EPILOGUE
It’d taken Piers exactly two years to get to this moment.
“Are you sure?” he asked one last time, remembering her blanch as the Polynesian midwife had instructed her to make love with him like this to hasten the birth of their child.
He might have known something like this would happen, but when Alexandra had suggested that she give birth halfway around the world with a midwife she’d met while excavating an ancient aquifer, he’d readily agreed.
Neither of them had wished to suffer the boredom and isolation of an English confinement during her pregnancy. And her lively stories of paradise, of a tribe where pregnant women were respected, revered, and pampered—not to mention scantily dressed—sounded like a most capital idea.
For months now, it had been paradise. They slept in a raised open-walled hut, made luxurious by fluttering curtains and plush rugs. The ocean lulled them to sleep every night and bade them awake every morning.
They feasted on exotic fruits and coconuts, fresh fish, pork, and hearty grains harvested or butchered that day. They swam in crystalline coves and played beneath waterfalls. And, as she became weighted down by the child in her belly, he rubbed her feet while she floated in salt water.
A few days a week, Piers would hunt with the men, learning their skills and teaching them a few of his own. The tribe often had visitors from many foreign places, and they welcomed each with broad, beautiful smiles and vigorous trade.
Paradise.
Regardless of where they were, every day with her was a utopia. And every night was heaven.
Though they’d always been blessedly compatible lovers, her pregnancy granted her an insistent and, at times, rather ferocious libido.
If he had his way, he’d keep her as pregnant as she wanted to be. They’d sire an entire litter of dark-haired, amber-eyed darlings. If only he could enjoy the rapacious glint of hunger in her eyes.
Alexandra was in bed, as in all things, a curious, enthusiastic lover who’d eventually become a master, her skill unparalleled by the most celebrated of courtesans. They’d bonded as husband and wife, and Piers had been able to push the boundaries of even the most salacious acts.
Except for this. Never this.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “There are other ways.”
“I want to.” Alexandra padded to their bed, and he lifted her upon it, gathering the pillows to support her belly as she bent over. “I trust you.”
Those words were like a balm to his heart, and a tinder to his cock.
“You tell me if you’re afraid,” he said.
“I’m never afraid. Not with you.” She rested her forehead on her arms. “This is the last memory I want to be rid of. The last barrier I want to shed. How better to do it than this?”
He both heartily agreed and obsessively worried. Thus far they’d been lucky enough to avoid a negative sexual experience. With communication, humor, and understanding they’d been able to breach her fears and bury many of her memories. What a treasure it would be, to free her of every pain. He knew she’d never completely forget, but perhaps she could release as much of her burden as was possible. Relinquishing the hold of the past on her present existence.
He moved behind her, caressing her spine, savoring the feel of her hip in his hand, fuller than before, sensual and soft.
The sight of her was almost too beautiful to bear. The plump globes of her ass extended toward him, the luscious trove below already dewy and damp.
Piers split the folds with a probing finger, hunger knotting in his belly as he bent to feast. When his tongue slipped along the lovely pleats and pliant petals he reveled in her little mewls and hitches of breath. He teased her with little darts of his tongue, coaxing the folds to become full and hot, engorged with desire. He searched her sex in all the intricate places, delving inside with his tongue, wanting to drink at the well of wanting he found there.
He’d never cease hungering for her flavor. Never would he be satiated.
Tormenting her with slow, swirling motions, he made her give up her dignity to him as she writhed and wriggled and pressed her hips backward, rocking against his lips. Finally, he centered all his attentions on her clitoris, flicking it in feather-light strokes, knowing that was all it would take to send her over the edge.
She arched and cried out, dousing his tongue with her release. Her body clenched and trembled, her hips jerking until he brought her down slowly, disseminating her climax into soft-spun shivers that bloomed goose pimples over her naked flesh.
Piers pulled back, wiping his beard and licking his lips like a cat who’d been caught in the cream. He’d never tire of her gratification, of the satisfaction it granted him.
Rising to his knees, he drank in the sight, loving the glow of her pregnancy, the luminescence shimmering beneath her skin.
“I love you,” he growled, when he meant to murmur.
“I love you,” she replied dreamily.
Reaching down, he palmed himself, rubbing the head of him against her vulnerable opening, expecting her to tense. To stiffen.
She didn’t.
He bent over her, pressing heated kisses to her spine, whispering love words as he pushed into the velvet cove of her body. Once he’d locked himself as deep as he could go, he stayed there, enjoying the wet, tight feel of her around him. The little pulses and aftershocks of her climax a heavenly feeling around his sensitized flesh.
“God, this feels so…” He stopped, drawing back. “Are you all ri—”
“If you finish that question, I’m going to geld you.” Her threat held no real heat, and Piers grinned as he felt the impatient wriggle of her hips.
He flexed inside of her, and then began to move. The position afforded him the most wicked sight. His cock, slick with her desire, impaling her again and again, joining them in strong, rhythmic thrusts. Her delicate pink skin, soft yet tight, exerted the perfect pressure, welcoming his thrust, clenching upon his withdrawal.
Her sweet sex was shaped to accommodate only him, and by God did it ever.
After his first initial thrusts, she began to rock back against him, opening herself to him, matching his rhythm in little demanding nudges. Urging him deeper.
He obliged, reaching between them, beneath himself, to flick at the beaded nub he knew would respond. His other hand spread her ass, his curious fingers twirling wet circles around the tight opening he found there.
Her astonished gasp was followed by a pulse of her inner muscles, goading him onward. He breached the gathered place only slightly with his fingertip, delighted when a swift and unexpected orgasm ripped through her, clamping her flesh rhythmically around his, milking him until he could stand it no longer.
His breath caught, then ceased as his release broke his rhythm, locking him in clutches of liquid fire. Her name poured from his lips in several broken syllables, the pulses of ecstasy so wildly overwhelming he almost yearned to escape them.
It was all he could do not to collapse upon her afterward, but he controlled a descent that somehow found their limbs tangled together. Her belly nestled between them, he cocooned her body with his, caressing the places he’d grown to recognize as her favorites. The undersides of her breasts, her clavicles, the swell of her stomach.
“You didn’t seem to mind that,” he ventured, wickedly.
“It was the best,” she panted, slick from exhaustion and exertion. “The best … ever.”
He chuffed. “You say that sentence so often, I’m starting to suspect its verity.”
She lolled her head to the side. “You doubt me?”
Sweeping above her, he pressed a kiss to her nose. Her eyelids. The corners of her soft mouth. “No. I don’t. I trust you.”
It was a terrifying thing, to trust someone so entirely. It did not come easily at first. But as their marriage grew, he came to accept that her penchant for honesty wasn’t merely an endearing trait, but an inexhaustible virtue. She had to be the most loyal person he’d ever me
t, and that loyalty was returned by those who loved her in kind.
Sighing, she wrapped her arms around her middle, nuzzling into him as he rested beside her.
“You can come out now,” she prompted the baby before huffing away a strand of her hair. “So many people are eager to meet you.” They each stared for a moment, though he wasn’t certain what they expected.
“Probably is a boy,” she muttered. “One as stubborn as you are.”
“I hope it’s a girl.”
She lifted her brows. “Oh?”
“A little girl with black hair and amber eyes. Someone who calls me ‘papa’ and trails rivers of ribbons all through the castle.”
Her smile could have lit the night sky. “You’ll spoil her, terribly.”
“That’s the idea. She’ll be the new Terror of Torcliff. A more fearsome creature than I could ever be.”
“Don’t you dare!” She jabbed at his ribs with a cruel finger. “If you create a monster, you’ll have to deal with the raising of her. I’ll have none of it.”
His happiness flickered. “Do you think she’ll fear me? Looking as I do?”
Alexandra caressed him with all the tenderness the world contained. “She’ll love you, as I do. Your face will be the dearest sight, because to her it will represent home and love and safety and acceptance. Our children will be proud to have such a handsome, fearsome father.”
Piers cleared a gather of emotion from his throat, deciding to lighten the moment. “We can call her Katherine,” he suggested. “Kitty. After the animal who changed the course of my life for the better. Without him, I’d have married Rose.”
He caught her jab this time, not that it wasn’t deserved. “Don’t even speak like that,” she admonished him. “I can’t fathom it.” Her features fell. “I almost pity her. She’s lost everything. Her reputation, her title, what little fortune she had.”
He made a face thinking that Rose could rot in the drafty dowager house she’d been relegated to in some cold corner of Blighty. Just so long as he never had to see her again.
Freeing her hand, Alexandra ran a finger down the scar on his jaw, distracting him. “The beast that put this here was more than a mere kitty.”
“You’re right, as always,” he acquiesced. “Would you allow me to name our child Panther? Or Jaguar?”
She made a face “You’re right, Kitty is perfect.”
“You’re perfect.” He kissed her.
“We both know that’s a lie. I’ve been an absolute beast to you for a month.” She struggled to turn over, to find a comfortable spot.
“Only two weeks by my count,” he teased, chastised when her brow pinched into that endearing frown. He reached up to smooth it away. “You’re an adorable beast.”
She leaned her cheek into his palm. “When the baby can travel, where would you like to take her?”
He pulled her in tightly, fitting her lovely bottom in the crook of his body. “Let’s go home for a while. Let the staff meet our child and invite your parents from Hampshire. I’d like to take some time to see Mercury’s new foals. Besides, the Redmayne remains will be returning from the museum.”
“I love that idea,” she readily agreed. “I think I’ll miss a Devonshire summer by then. Less hot.” She brushed a damp curl back from her brow.
She shifted again as the distinct outline of a foot rippled above her navel and he pressed his hand to the little thing, wishing he could meet its owner more than anything in the world.
“I think I’ll go find Cecelia.” Alexandra yawned and stretched her naked body with an indolent grace. “We’re both going to swim beneath the waterfall today. The feeling of weightlessness is indescribable. It’s the only time my back doesn’t cause me conniptions.”
“I’ll come with you.” He heaved his body from the bed with great effort.
She threw him a saucy smile. “You weren’t invited. What if it’s just a swim for us ladies?”
“Do you really think Cecelia’s domineering, insufferable husband will be any farther than ten paces away?” He rolled his eyes. “If not coiled around her like a sea serpent?”
Another brilliant smile nearly blinded him with happiness as she scooted off the bed, her full breasts bouncing in such a way his mouth watered.
“And you’re any better than he?”
“Of course I’m better,” he snorted. “I can make it a good fifteen paces before I miss you and have to return.”
“There you go,” she teased. “Turning everything into a competition.” She kissed him, wriggling into a colorful little shift in such a way that made him glad they’d be at the water again, where she’d be wearing as little as possible.
“Before we return to Castle Redmayne, we’ll have to stay long enough for Cecelia to give birth. She could be as much as a month behind me. Perhaps she’ll have a girl, as well.” The idea seemed to thrill her. “They’ll be great friends. A second generation of Red Rogues.”
“Is the world ready for such a thing?” Piers slid his arms around his wife, humbled at the simplicity of their happiness. The all-encompassing entirety of it. “I shan’t mind remaining in paradise with you as long as you want to be here.” He cuddled her belly. “Besides, I’m anxious for Kitty to meet her Ramsay cousin.”
Also by
Kerrigan Byrne
The Highwayman
The Hunter
The Highlander
The Duke
The Scot Beds His Wife
The Duke with the Dragon Tattoo
Praise for Kerrigan Byrne
“Byrne weaves in such undeniable thrills and a sweeping sense of all-consuming passion that you may just end up falling for the story against your better judgment.”
—Entertainment Weekly on The Duke with the Dragon Tattoo
“Another winner in a stellar series.”
—Library Journal (starred review) on The Duke with the Dragon Tattoo
“Deliciously dark and dangerous historical romance … done to perfection.”
—Booklist
“Readers who feel guilty about craving the thrill of a Victorian bodice-ripper will appreciate the moral reassurance of Byrne’s sensitive characterizations.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Exceptional and compelling.”
—Library Journal
“The romance is raw, edgy, and explosive.… The path they take through adversity makes the triumph of love deeply satisfying.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Highwayman
“A truly mesmerizing series that highlights dangerous heroes who flout the law and the women who love them.”
—Library Journal (starred review) on The Hunter
“Dramatic, romantic, and utterly lovely.”
—BookPage
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Whether she’s writing about Celtic Druids, Victorian bad boys, or brash Irish FBI agents, Kerrigan Byrne uses her borderline-obsessive passion for history, her extensive Celtic ancestry, and her love of Shakespeare in every book. She lives at the base of the Rocky Mountains with her handsome husband and three lovely teenage girls, but dreams of settling on the Pacific Coast. Kerrigan loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at www.kerriganbyrne.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Sev
en
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Also by Kerrigan Byrne
Praise for Kerrigan Byrne
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Paperbacks, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
HOW TO LOVE A DUKE IN TEN DAYS
Copyright © 2019 by Kerrigan Byrne.
All rights reserved.
For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 9781250318855
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / September 2019
How to Love a Duke in Ten Days Page 38