A Duke in Time--The Widow Rules

by Janna MacGregor

  Christian climbed the stairs to the second floor, where the sitting room’s door was ajar. Christian stopped for a quick gander. This was Katherine’s domain, and a delightful place it had turned out to be. It was a bright, airy room with colorful chairs and sofas upholstered in red and pink brocades and silk. But what caught his eye were the pillows and bolsters. He couldn’t count them all. There had to be at least fifty in various colors decorating the room.

  He turned on his heel with a smile. The colors resembled the crisp, deep colors of the gardens at his ancestral seat. He wanted to take her there when everything was in the first bloom of spring. He could imagine her face at the sight of the gardens overflowing with ruby, scarlet, and crimson roses.

  In his entire life, it was the first time he’d ever wanted to take a woman to Roseport. It was a special place where he’d spent the happiest times of his childhood. His mother had made certain of that. They’d spent hours in the fields and in the conservatory tending to the roses.

  It was the only place he’d ever considered home, and he wanted to share that part of himself with her.

  He continued down the hall, then stopped in front of her office door. Through an opening, he could see the bright light of a candle and Katherine bent over her desk, writing. Her cheeks resembled ripe peaches, as if she blushed from the candlelight kissing her face. When she finished, she carefully lifted the quill from the paper and placed it back in its stand.

  That was his cue to enter. He gently knocked on the open door.

  Katherine lifted her gaze and, immediately, her eyes widened. For a sweet eternity, neither moved nor said a word. Christian drank in the sight of her. A man could easily surrender his soul by staring into the deep pools of golden green that shimmered in the light. If that man were lucky, he’d drown in such a vision. What good was a soul anyway when he could find the promise of heaven in her gaze?

  Such was the power of Katherine Greer.

  Today, she was no longer Lady Meriwether. She deserved better than his profligate brother.

  But the question that still gnawed at Christian’s conscience was whether he deserved her. There was only one way to find out.

  “Hello, Katherine. May I come in?”

  * * *

  Katherine’s smile froze when she saw who stood in the doorway. She’d thought it was Willa. Instead, it was Christian who stood before her, looking more handsome and powerful than she’d ever seen him. She shook her head slightly. She had to stop thinking of him that way. Not after today’s humiliation. The best course of action was to put distance between them. To even think of him as anything other than an acquaintance was a surefire way of having her heart stomped on once again by another Vareck man and her own past.

  The duke’s gaze never left hers. As the seconds rolled by, his stare slowly intensified until she could feel layer upon layer of her well-honed defenses being peeled away by his sharp, all-knowing brown eyes. He was too intelligent not to deduce that she’d been dealt a blow that had leveled her confidence.

  It was akin to being examined from the inside out. She swallowed slightly but refused to glance away. The exquisite cut of his coat enhanced his aura of power. He was the perfect specimen of a man.

  Yet, the dull ache in her chest refused to quiet. Slowly, she rose from her chair, then as casually as possible, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Your Grace, I wasn’t expecting you. Is there something you need from me?”

  She kept the words polite but without any infliction that would lead him to think she was upset or offended by the letter. It was a skill she’d mastered over the years when others had asked about her father.

  “Yes.” One side of his mouth tilted upward. “I need to tell you something. Something very important.” The effect of his half smile and his eyes flashing with warmth made him appear years younger.

  She huffed a breath at the sight.

  He closed the door and locked it, then soundlessly crossed the distance between them. “I meant to mention this earlier.” He studied the carpet as if gathering his thoughts, then raised his gaze to hers. “I was in awe of what you did for Isabelle.”

  Her eyes slowly searched his face. “Comforting a little girl who was crying?”

  “Yes,” he hummed in that deep voice that reached inside and squeezed her heart. “The attention you gave her was lovely. I saw everything.” He smiled gently in the afternoon light. “You took time from your day to make a little girl happy.” He deepened his voice. “I enjoyed watching you with her. You made her feel wanted.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced at her desk before returning her gaze to his. Heat marched up her cheeks.

  He held up the packet of papers. “I thought you might want these.” He placed her cloak on a nearby chair, then slid everything across the desk. “I tucked Meriwether’s letter into yours.”

  She closed her eyes at the sight, then forced herself to look at it, though it took a monumental effort. She was a survivor, a fighter, and wouldn’t let a piece of foolscap defeat her—not today.

  “You found it. I thought I’d lost it on the street.” She stared at the folded letter written by her husband—if she could even call the trigamist that. She pulled the missive out and then walked around the desk to the small fireplace where a warm fire blazed. She moved to flick the offending paper into the fire.

  “Wait,” he said softly. “Before you destroy it, let me speak.”

  She turned and regarded him. The overpowering desire to crush the letter into a ball was something fierce.

  “Your marriage wasn’t your fault, but his.”

  “I take it that you read it?” she asked softly.

  He glanced at the letter before returning his attention to her. “No. That’s between you and Meri.”

  Her vision blurred in a haze for a moment. She would not cry. To do so would be her ultimate humiliation and give Meri’s words the power to hurt her.

  “I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he said. “However, I can imagine what it said. You see, I take great offense that someone would hurt you. It’s doubly infuriating that it was my half brother who wrote those words.”

  “Why would you care?” She turned her back on him and faced the fire so she could finish her thought without being distracted by his presence. She didn’t want to see his response. The truth was, she’d hurt herself by being gullible and not fighting harder in her own defense. “Your opinion is so poor of your brother … undoubtedly such disdain must extend to me as his wife.”

  “Is that what you think?” The astonishment in his voice ricocheted around the room. While she couldn’t see him, she could hear the movement of air as he rushed forward. He stopped so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Look at me,” he demanded gently.

  She turned and immediately was caught like a moth in a flame at the intensity of his regard. She couldn’t move. He hovered over her, one hand on his hip. His expression and everything about him spoke of an iron will and steely determination.

  The breadth of his shoulders, his trim waist … God, it was unhealthy to think of his body in such terms. Oh, he was a dangerous man, one no woman could keep from admiring, a war hero duke. But to make matters worse, he was a man who oozed masculinity.

  A troubled sigh escaped under her breath. How in the world could she resist him?

  She couldn’t.

  “There are two people in this world who I trust enough to call me Christian. Only two, a dear friend and you.” He lowered his voice and fisted his hands. “It pains me that because of my half brother’s foolish words, distance would come between us. Do you know why it gives me pleasure to hear my name on your lips?”

  “No,” she said. His gaze locked hers in place. She couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to.

  He leaned closer. “I value you and your good opinion. I trust you, which puts you in rare company. It makes me furious to think Meriwether could destroy our friendship. He is … was an imposter.”

  Wh
ich made Meri a perfect husband for her. She blinked twice, fighting against the swell of shame.

  “He pretended to be someone honorable, but we both know the extent of his lies.”

  His deep voice surrounded her in a warmth that reminded her of the finest velvet in her warehouse. The low cadence was comforting and arousing at the same time. To hear such a sound every morning upon waking and at night before drifting off to sleep would be a gift. To feel his heartbeat next to hers every night would be heaven. But that would never happen—not with her own lies. She exhaled, hoping to keep her wits after such thoughts.

  “It’s beyond infuriating to think that his worthless opinion could hurt you and make you doubt yourself. You have more integrity and decency than any other person I’ve ever known. I can see those traits in how you care for your employees and their families, not to mention your Willa. I can see it in your action when you took in the other wives.” He stilled for a second, but his eyes never blinked. “My half brother was a fool. Any man would be honored to call you his wife.”

  His words broke a renegade tear free, and she closed her eyes in a sorry attempt to keep it contained. His knuckle wiped it away in the tenderest of touches. Never before had a man touched her with such care and respect. Another rogue tear escaped, and in response, she clasped the fine wool of his lapels in her fists and rested her head against his chest. His arms encircled her, protecting her from the harshness of the world. For the rest of her life she’d remember this moment.

  “Have you ever felt shame?” The question broke free before she could think otherwise.

  He didn’t say anything immediately, then his deep baritone filled the air. “When I was younger. After my mother died, my family became what can only be described as a somewhat unorthodox circus. They were a constant source of shame for me.”

  Christian’s gaze drifted to the London street below, where dusk flirted with the evening. The only reflection in the window was of her holding his lapels as if he were a buoy keeping her afloat.

  He turned his attention back to her. “I expect you might feel some shame in my half brother’s words. But it’s a reflection of his failure, not yours. He didn’t do the work necessary for the marriage to succeed.” He smiled gently. “There are no guarantees that any of us will experience or even find love in this life. But if we’re lucky enough to obtain it, we must protect and nourish it, much like a seedling until it can stand on its own and weather the elements. Love, if allowed to grow, develops deep roots, whether from a father, mother, husband, wife, or even our own children, that will last for a lifetime and beyond.”

  “Your Grace. If I didn’t know you better, I’d believe you’re a romantic, much like Lord Byron, or perhaps Shelley.”

  “Byron only thinks of himself, while Shelley only loves himself,” he scoffed. “Neither are romantics in my opinion.” He shocked her by bending down and pressing his lips against her skin where a tear stood suspended, refusing to fall down her cheek. Still holding her, he leaned away and grinned like a wicked rogue. “I admit I surprise myself sometimes.”

  Underneath his gruffness was a man who possessed the ability to feel deeply. Whoever married him would find herself in a love affair that would last a lifetime.

  But she couldn’t think of that now. She’d not think of another woman in his arms. Not when he held her so close. He was giving her a moment in time, one she’d cherish forever. A brief respite from the ugliness that shadowed her.

  This time when their gazes met, something changed. It was as if they were building a path, stone by stone, between them. Kat had no idea where it would lead them, but she wanted to follow it.

  Unable to resist, Kat tugged his coat gently, urging him toward her. When he complied, she balanced herself on the balls of her feet to meet him. His eyes never left hers as she tilted her mouth. With the gentlest of touches, she brushed her lips against his in the same manner as he’d done in the conservatory that very afternoon.

  A deep groan vibrated in his chest at her touch, but she wouldn’t give him any quarter. She wanted to kiss him repeatedly until he understood what he meant to her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Say my name,” he demanded softly. “Don’t let that intimacy be stolen from us.”

  “Christian.” Her voice had softened with desire, and she repeated it. “Christian, let me kiss you.”

  “Yes.” His whisper buried deep within her, unleashing a want she’d never felt for another before.

  She pressed her lips against his and allowed the kiss to evolve on its own. He pulled her tighter into his embrace, all the while holding her steady. In turn, she wrapped her hands around his neck. His long hair was softer than she’d ever dreamed. Unable to keep from touching him, she played with his locks as they slid through her fingers like black silk.

  Emboldened, she gently nibbled on his full lower lip. It was like the finest velvet. She licked the seam of his mouth. In response, he exhaled, and she swept her tongue inside.

  As they explored what each liked, they held each other tighter, both unwilling to let the other go. Unhurried, he mated his tongue with hers. His hands skated down her back much like a waltz. Two slides down, and one slide up. This continued until one hand rested on her lower back.

  He leaned back and his gaze drank in her features, slowly and methodically before he closed the inches between them. It was his turn to kiss her. At first it was gentle but grew demanding and possessive. Her thoughts whirled, and she realized that for the first time in her life, she was experiencing real passion with a man who wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  It was seduction at its finest. And she didn’t care that it was her doing the seducing. Or was it him? It didn’t matter. Only this moment mattered.

  Christian pulled her close, pressing her lower body against his. Through the layers of clothing, she could feel his hard length where heat pulsed. Pure male power surrounded her. He wanted her. A familiar wetness grew between her legs, and she moaned. It always happened when she thought of them embracing like this.

  His kiss turned urgent, as if he were claiming her, marking her as his. Just as she’d imagined doing the same with him. Honestly, she imagined lots of things besides kissing Christian. She fantasized about them in bed making love. It would be glorious to kiss every inch of his body while she explored. His body was like a tapestry, and she’d take her time admiring every inch of him.

  His hands continued to roam her body until she put her hand on top of his, then slowly pulled her skirt up. He broke the kiss, and his gaze turned tender. She smiled in answer, all the while pulling her gown up.

  “No one will intrude. Willa’s warned everyone to stay away when my door is closed.”

  “I hope you pay that woman enough for her sound judgment. However, I locked the door behind me,” he murmured, then stole a kiss.

  Katherine laughed gently against his lips. Without warning, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to a slipper chair that sat in front of the fire. With her gown bunched around her hips, she should have felt like a harlot; instead, she had never felt more beautiful.

  The look on his face confirmed it. He dropped to his knees between her legs. His hands gently traced the curve of her calves. When he reached the top of her knees, he stopped. “What are your intentions toward me?”

  “I’m not certain I understand.” She wiggled, wanting him to continue touching her.

  “I don’t think we should do anything the other is not comfortable with. I must be honest, I’ve imagined all sorts of wonderful things between us.” He swept his fingers across her cheek, the touch tender and caring. “But I don’t think we’re ready for that yet, do you?”

  She chewed her lip. His gaze darted to her mouth. He was right. She wasn’t ready to make love with him, no matter what her fantasies were. “You’re right, but I’d like to explore this attraction between us.”

  “I would also, but I want you to be comfortable with me.” With his thumb, h
e traced her bottom lip. “May I touch you?”

  She nodded.

  He took her mouth with his in the gentlest of kisses as his hands skated across her thighs. She widened her legs. Katherine gasped at the heavenly sensation. But Christian didn’t stop either his kisses or his seduction. His lips trailed down her throat, and Katherine was helpless to do anything but tilt her neck for his ease. He tongued the indentation at the base of her neck, then kissed the top of her cleavage.

  Her breathing became even more erratic. She closed her eyes when he slipped his tongue between her breasts. But he made no moves to strip away her gown. She moaned again, thinking of him touching and kissing her bare breasts and nipples.

  But he turned his attention elsewhere. With infinite slowness, he pushed her skirts even higher. His rapid inhalation at the sight of her clocked stockings pulled all sorts of feminine strings that made her heart jangle in her chest. His hands against her thighs was a study in contrasts. While her stockings were ivory, his hands were colored by the sun, and the hair on his wrists was jet black. She laid her hands on his, bringing them to her most intimate place, encouraging him to continue his caresses.

  Soon, he parted her cleft, then stroked her with two fingers, his touch sure but gentle at the same time. The languid rhythm of his movement kept time with his kisses.

  His lips trailed to the tender spot below her ear. One finger circled the nub where all sensation seemed to have settled. “What would you think if I put my mouth here and tasted you?”

  Christian didn’t move as he waited for her answer.

  She tongued the same sensitive spot below his ear, then whispered, “I’d like that.”

  With a wicked smile, he bent down, then kissed her there. A soft growl erupted from his throat and vibrated through her. The sound was so masculine and primeval, she trembled in response. His tongue wove itself back and forth across the sensitive peak, drawing a need within her for more. With another groan, he lapped at her wetness. She shamelessly tilted her hips, demanding more.