My Favorite Duke (The Duke Hunters Club Book 2)

by Bianca Blythe

  She turned and nestled against his chest, and he gasped. His hands stroked hers, seemingly in reverence.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  Pleasure moved through her. People had complimented her symmetrical features before, but they’d never done so with quite so much enthusiasm. She’d always had the feeling when her tutors had praised her that they’d done so just as much to admonish her peers. Margaret Carberry was never complimented for her beauty, for instance, and even though Daisy’s face was pretty, her tutors seemed bewildered at what to do with her. Most students did not have wheelchairs.

  But when Lucas told her she was beautiful, Juliet’s heart simply glowed, confident he did not have any bad intent.

  Lucas trailed a finger from her sleeve up to her neck. He moved slowly, as if each stretch of skin, each curve of flesh, needed to be worshipped, as if he were on a pilgrimage in a holy place.

  Her body sang, and she moved closer to him, snuggling against his firm muscles. She inhaled his masculine scent with more delight than she’d ever experienced while wandering even the loveliest garden, recently refined by Capability Brown.

  “I’d like to kiss you now,” Lucas said, his voice deep and appealing. “Would you mind?”

  Juliet’s throat dried. Her heart seemed to have turned into a drum, the sort intent on being heard above an army of men.

  “First, I shall kiss your neck.”

  “My neck?” Her eyebrows rose. A neck seemed a most odd place to kiss. She rarely thought about her neck, except when her lady’s maid hung the odd necklace about it.

  “The curve of your neck is most enticing,” Lucas said, and he traced a finger against it.

  Juliet shivered. Lucas grinned, and in the next moment, he pressed his lips against it, and, in the moment after that, he sucked on her neck.

  “Lucas,” she murmured.

  “Did you like that?”

  She nodded, then groaned. Words were difficult to form. Her whole mind concentrated on the delightful sensation of Lucas’s lips against her skin.

  Lucas feathered kisses from her neck to her ear, then nibbled on her ear. She didn’t know she could feel such sensations there.

  Her heart thrummed, and she squirmed in delight. An odd energy continued to tighten in her core.

  And then he kissed her.

  He truly kissed her.

  He danced with her lips, then he danced with her tongue.

  Gliding in Almack’s clothed in her finest ballgown did not compare to this sensation. He moved his hands about her, holding her close, as if the least bit of space between them would be forbidden.

  He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her.

  And she kissed him back.

  He groaned and pulled her closer to him, then he wrapped both arms about her and lifted her easily over him, so she lay against his body.

  Her arms touched his arms, her legs touched his legs, and her bosom was crushed against his chest. They continued to kiss and continued to touch. She explored his neck, his ears, his mouth. She grew acquainted with the feel of stubble of his cheeks. The rough sensation was not unpleasant.

  “There’s another place I haven’t kissed you yet,” Lucas said. For some reason, his voice seemed warm.

  “I find that highly doubtful,” Juliet said. The man had even kissed her fingers. Obviously, he’d kissed everything possible. Most people confined their kisses to lips, or, on occasion, simply to cheeks.

  Lucas unbuttoned her dress.

  “Oh,” she murmured.

  He grinned.

  Underneath her dress was a vast array of places for him to kiss, and that strange sensation in her core tightened again. The rowboat rocked as he undressed her, splashing water every which way.

  Juliet didn’t mind at all.

  She didn’t mind the wooden boards on which they rested, and she didn’t mind the uncomfortably strewn pillows, ineffective barriers against the hull.

  Energy swirled through Juliet.

  “I believe this is quite naughty,” she declared.

  “As in everything, my dear,” Lucas said, “you are absolutely correct.”

  Her dress was freed, and Lucas helped her slip from it.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. She couldn’t be cold when her skin was pressed against his. The concept was impossible. She’d never been so warm in her life. She’d never been filled with fire before.

  “The problem with women’s clothes is that they have many layers,” Lucas declared.

  “It’s to make my dresses look nicer.”

  “That is an admirable purpose, though it is doubtful they could ever not look nice,” Lucas said.

  Something strained in his trousers, and she realized it must be his masculine instrument. His hardness fit against her core, relieving some of the tension, and she continued to move against it, continued to concentrate on his kisses, continued to concentrate on the feel of his hands against hers.

  JULIET WAS THE MOST amazing woman in the world.

  It was a fact that he had come to long before, but he found that somehow he’d managed to underestimate the full extent of her marvelousness.

  Her lovely silky locks spilled against his hands, and her slim, curved form fit easily over him. The woman was an angel, a goddess.

  And my wife to be.

  The thought filled him with emotion. He hadn’t thought he’d find love again, he hadn’t pursued it. He’d danced with debutantes out of politeness, making light conversation but never feeling a connection.

  But there was no doubt there was a connection with Juliet. He couldn’t refrain from kissing her, from exploring her body, from making it abundantly clear just how much he adored her, just how much he loved her.

  He loved every curve in her body, every freckle on her face. He loved how her emerald eyes sparkled, and the way her auburn hair gleamed. He loved the way in which she strode, and he loved the easy expressions she made.

  His heart soared.

  He’d thought she could never be his. He’d thought she would marry Sherwood, and that whenever he thought of her, his heart would pang, until he decided not to think about her at all, not to visit any balls she might attend, not to stroll in Hyde Park when she was in town, lest he see her.

  But now she was here, in his arms, telling him that she loved him.

  Life had never been so wonderful.

  He brushed his fingers about her, feeling her curves.

  He’d dreamed about them.

  He drew his fingers over the luscious curve from her waist to her hips, then he swept his fingers to her bosom and glided his fingers over the curve of her mounds.

  He wanted to see them again.

  He wanted to taste them. He pulled her chemise down, revealing her bare bosom.

  And then he was silent.

  Utterly silent.

  “Lucas?” she asked.

  “They’re so beautiful.”

  Her cleavage was magnificent.

  He knew it would be.

  Pink buds decorated her ivory bosom.

  He traced his fingers along them in reverence, then drew his gaze back to her face. He brushed his fingers against her globes gently, and she moaned and pressed them against his hands, as if longing for more sensation, more force, more Lucas.

  Lucas obliged.

  In the next moment, he dipped his head down, and placed a breast in his mouth. Energy thrummed through his body, as if a great concerto were playing inside his chest.

  Then he sucked on her breast, and everything in the world was wonderful

  He returned his mouth to her bosom, moving to her other breast, as if eager to show both equal consideration.

  His manhood strained against his trousers. Juliet moved against his body.

  Heavens, he wanted to plunge into her. He wanted to lose himself in her tightness, her wetness, her Julietness.

  “There’s another place I can kiss you,” he said.

  �
��Oh?” Her voice shook.

  “Yes.” He lifted her in his arms, then rolled her over, placing a pillow below her head. She clung to him still, as if not wanting any distance between them.

  He smiled. He didn’t want any distance between them either, even the distances that could be measured by rulers, but he had the distinct impression she was going to enjoy this.

  He moved his hands along her figure, wanting to memorize every curve. It didn’t matter that he was going to spend a lifetime with her. He needed to know her now. He moved his hands over her underclothes, feeling the cotton texture. Heavens, he wanted to feel her flesh.

  No barrier existed between that space in her pantaloons and the air, and when he placed his lips against her center, she writhed.

  “Lucas?” she asked.

  “Do you like it?”

  “That...is...a...lovely...kiss,” she said between gasps.

  He chuckled, and moved his tongue against her core as she groaned, holding his hands about her fragile waist.

  Then she arched her back and shuddered, screaming into the still night.

  “That was—” she swallowed hard. “That was—”

  “A good beginning to the rest of our lives?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “The very best beginning.”

  “I’m glad.” He settled beside her, ignoring the manner in which his manhood strained about his trousers.

  Perhaps his manhood decided to become a rock in her presence. Perhaps it swelled and swelled. None of that meant he had to take her virginity, no matter how appealing the thought of entering her might be.

  He stretched his arm out, and she snuggled against him again. He stroked her back gently and stared at the stars. He hadn’t thought fate would be so wonderful to him again, that there might ever be another woman for him.

  She brushed her hand against his chest, seeming to find pleasure in discovering its dimensions. He sighed contentedly. He was going to ignore his stone appendage. He had a plan, no matter how much it ached, how much he longed for more Juliet.

  Then Juliet’s hand lowered, moving from his chest to his stomach to the area below his stomach and finally halting at his manhood.

  “This wasn’t here before,” she said.

  “Er—no.” His voice was oddly husky, even though he hadn’t had any sore throat, any cough in recent days.

  She moved her hand to his appendage lightly, tracing it with her hands.

  “Juliet!” he whispered.

  She stopped. “Is that painful?”

  “It is bloody marvelous,” he grunted.

  “Shall I keep on going?”

  “Yes,” he managed to utter, then the delightful sensation began again. She glided her hand against his manhood.

  “Take it out,” he grunted, and heavens, she did so.

  His manhood jutted from his trousers, and for a moment he worried he might have frightened her. In this respect, men’s bodies were quite different from female bodies. It was a fact one might need to become accustomed to.

  Juliet touched his length. “The skin is velvety. But hard.”

  “So I can enter you,” he said. “Not tonight, of course.”

  “Why not tonight?”

  “Because we’re not married yet.”

  “So we will marry?”

  “Absolutely.” He grinned. “The answer to that question is easy.”

  “Then don’t you dare stop.”

  His heart thudded. “Are you certain?”

  “I want to experience everything,” she said. “And we’re alone now.”

  That, certainly was true. No other boats were on this lake, and he doubted a fisherman would decide that now was the best time to go fishing. Fishermen were sometimes known for catching fish at dawn, but they’d never lauded the practice of catching practice in the middle of the night.

  This was very late at night.

  The stars still shimmered, the moon still glowed, and he kissed Juliet again. He rolled her gently to the floor of the boat, taking care again that her head was elevated and she was comfortable.

  Then he guided his manhood toward her entrance. “I’m going to go inside you. It might hurt, but I’ll try to be gentle.”

  She wrapped her arms about his back. “Enter me. I’m yours.”

  His heart beat unevenly. He pressed his manhood against her core, feeling wonderful warm silkiness.

  And then he pressed against her.

  He may as well have been opening the gates to heaven. It seemed impossible to be so near her, and yet, here he was.

  In the next moment, he slid inside her. The sensation was wonderful. Her entrance was tight, yet wet. She tightened her grip around his back, and her breath hitched in a most delightful manner.

  “Shall I stop?” he asked.

  He didn’t want to stop, but if there was a chance she was in pain, he would stop. If it was always too painful for her for him to enter, he would be happy to simply be beside her.

  “Keep...on...going,” she ordered.

  He grinned. He could do that. He could keep on going.

  And so he began to thrust.

  He moved entirely inside her, feeling her warm tight silkiness. He thrust inside her slowly, allowing her to get used to the sensation. Soon she began to move to meet his movements, as if she were every bit as eager to have him be inside her.

  They were joined.

  In every Biblical sense.

  In every naughty sense.

  Heavens, he adored her.

  “I love you,” he said.

  He couldn’t see whether she smiled, but when she spoke, her voice was warm and wonderful. “I love you too.”

  His heart sang, even though he wasn’t the least bit musical. Still, it crescendoed up, and finally, his body seemed to swell, and he pulled out hastily and spilled his seed on her belly.

  Exhaustion filled him, and he collapsed at her side. He cleaned her belly, dangling his hands in the water, then he pulled her toward him and wrapped him in his arms.

  In the next moment, he slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The next morning, Lucas rowed Juliet back to the cottage. None of Sherwood’s men were there, and Juliet strolled on the rocky shore while Lucas went to have the carriage prepared. They had agreed she would return home while the banns were posted, then he would marry her.

  Her heart filled. Joy had never seemed less abstract.

  Suddenly, the world became dark. Someone flung a sack over her head, and Juliet struggled to free herself. “Help!” she called. “Help!”

  “Be quiet, woman,” the voice replied.

  She strove to place the voice, but she didn’t recognize it. The voice was harsh, the vowels guttural.

  “Let me go!” she hollered and attempted to free herself.

  A voice laughed, as if Juliet were some jester sent to amuse him.

  “Come on, darling,” the voice said cruelly. “We’re going to take you away from here.”

  She stiffened, and soon someone jerked her forward. She stumbled on the rocky shore, but the person caught her before she could fall.

  “Oh, no,” the voice said. “We can’t have you falling. He’s not going to like it if you’re all scratched up. We have to keep you pretty?”

  “You work for Sherwood?” she asked in a small, trembling voice.

  “Yep,” the man said blithely. “Now no more chit-chat. Next thing, you’ll want my opinion on the weather.”

  The man pushed her forward, then pushed her up and into a carriage. Only after they’d driven for ten minutes did the man remove the sack from her head.

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved when she could see again.

  He smirked. “You don’t want to be thanking me.”

  “What are you doing?”

  ‘Taking you back to Sherwood Castle. You should just have stayed put. I don’t like looking for girls early in the morning. Cumberland is cold. It’s this blasted North Wind. It never stops.”

 
“I-I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t believe it,” he said. “Still, you’re polite. The duke will appreciate that. He did not appreciate you running away.”

  Juliet was silent. “I don’t want to go to Sherwood Castle.”

  “Darling, you don’t have a choice.” He shrugged. “The duke said you might say something like that. I’ve been warned.”

  He gave a smug smile, as if he’d learned all the secrets in the universe, secrets that promised good things for him.

  Juliet felt queasy. She glanced behind her, half-expecting to see Lucas galloping on a white steed to stop her.

  There was no white steed, just as there was no Lucas.

  Only a desolate, deserted road.

  Juliet’s heart ached. Her heart did not stop aching, even when the carriage arrived at Sherwood Castle.

  The duke greeted her outside.

  “Good job,” he murmured to his henchman, and the man strutted away proudly.

  Juliet faced Sherwood. “I don’t want to marry you.”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t have a choice.”

  “Of course I have a choice,” Juliet said.

  “Breaking an engagement with me will be a scandal.”

  “A scandal I can endure.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I believe you think that. Such naivety. It is almost sweet. One can see why some people place such value on innocence.”

  Juliet shifted her weight from leg to leg. Standing had suddenly become a complex task.

  Sherwood continued to scrutinize her. Juliet wondered how she could ever have thought he was an ideal match. She wondered how she could never have seen the coldness that emanated from him. She’d been blinded by her desire to quickly assure herself a happily ever after. Someone, perhaps Matchmaking for Wallflowers, had named him an eligible bachelor, and she’d taken that to mean he was actually a prize. She’d been proud when he’d proposed to her, after two very brief meetings.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

  Sherwood beamed. “We are going to have a wedding, my dear.”

  She frowned. “You were never eager to have a wedding before.”

  He gave a lackadaisical shrug. “I am a man of much importance, my dear. I am frequently busy. You wouldn’t comprehend. Still, circumstances are changed. You should be relieved to know that we will wed tomorrow.”