Anything But a Duke

by Christy Carlyle

  “Do you like that?”

  “No,” she told him honestly, “I love it.”

  He smiled and kissed her again, the spot above her knee, the inner edge of her thigh. When her stockings were off, she expected him to stop, but he didn’t. His fingers found the lace of her drawers, and he slid them off as tenderly as he’d removed her stockings, adding kisses on every inch of skin he uncovered.

  Then he sat back on his heels, his fingers skimming the tender skin of her thighs, slipping higher as he looked into her eyes. “Do you trust me, Diana?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  He smiled at that, then he shocked her by sliding his fingers along her sex, stroking at the part of her that was slick and aching. Then he bent and replaced his fingers with his mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste. Her body tensed with the keen pleasure of it, almost too much. But a moment later she bucked against him, desperate for more.

  He lapped and suckled, and then she felt his finger slipping inside her heat, ratcheting up the pleasure. Her muscles tautened as he stroked her. The sensation was too intense, and yet she wanted more. She grappled for his shoulder and dug her fingers into his flexing muscles as her release shuddered through her. She held on to him as she gasped and cried out, and he kissed her through it, his mouth leaving a hot, damp trail along her thigh.

  “You’re incredible,” he whispered against her skin.

  Only when she sighed with a deep, languorous contentment did he stand, work the buttons of his trousers, and begin slipping them over his hips.

  “Let me,” she said, pausing him midslide.

  She’d read books, seen sculptures. She had a fair notion of what he was about to reveal, but she wanted to uncover him herself. Hooking fingers on each side of his hips, she inched the fabric lower.

  When the hard, smooth length of him sprang free, Diana inhaled sharply and licked her lips. Empirical knowledge was indeed far superior to crosshatch illustrations and the work of artists’ hands.

  She reached for him, shaping the length of him in her palm. His jaw tightened as his breathing turned shallow.

  Every touch, every stroke seemed to make him harder and his breath seemed to sync with the rhythm of her movements.

  “Diana,” he whispered. A plea but also a warning. “If you don’t stop—”

  “I know.” She released him reluctantly and reached down to lift her chemise over her head. She was completely bare before him, and there was no place else she wished to be. “Show me,” she demanded softly. “Show me everything.”

  “Diana.” Her name rasped out on a low, primal growl and he bent to draw her in for a kiss. He started slowly, tasting, and teasing, and all the while he urged her farther back onto the bed.

  He followed her, his hard, warm body sheltering hers as they settled onto the mattress. He braced his hands on either side of her, held his body above hers so that he wasn’t crushing her beneath him.

  It was far too polite. Far too practiced. Diana needed him closer. She wanted to make him lose every bit of control.

  “Closer,” she told him. “You’re too far away.” Reaching up, she laced her hands behind his neck and tugged.

  Aidan smiled down at her. “I do love your eagerness.” He placed a knee between her legs, nudged her thighs wider, and settled between them. “But we needn’t rush this.”

  The thick, hard length of him slid against her belly. Then he shifted and fitted himself against her, rubbing along her sex until she moaned for more.

  He watched her with the tenderest expression. The way he’d always looked at her had filled a space inside her. Made her feel warm and wanted. No one had ever looked at her the way that Aidan looked at her.

  “Aidan.” Even the merest whisper of his name seemed to affect him. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

  But when he retreated again, she gripped his shoulders to keep him close. “Wait,” she told him. “Stay close.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, Diana.” He rested his body against hers and finally let her take his weight. She spread her thighs, wanting him closer. He tangled one hand in her hair and then reached down with his other hand to slide a finger along her slit. Every nerve in her body drew to that single point where she was wet and desperate to feel him.

  He seemed to know that she couldn’t wait, but he still hesitated, sliding his length against her until she thought she’d go mad.

  “Please,” she whispered. Her mind might be pleasure-addled now, but she’d made this decision with a clear head, knowing the consequences.

  As he often did, Aidan seemed to read her thoughts.

  “You’re certain, Diana?” As soon as the question was out, he bent his head and took a nipple between his lips.

  It made it harder for her to speak, but it changed nothing about her answer.

  “Yes,” she hissed, and before she could take her next breath, he slid into her. Diana gasped at the sensation. She’d imagined how this night would go, everything that might happen between them. But not this, not how it felt to be so close to him. How right it felt when their bodies were joined.

  He began to move, building a slow, steady rhythm. But Diana didn’t want that; she lifted her hips, bucking against him, then lifted her head to pepper kisses along his jaw and take his lips.

  “Diana.” His thrusts quickened, deepened.

  “I want all of you,” she told him.

  Aidan kissed her then, hungrily, possessively, and when his release came, he spoke her name again on a ragged whisper against her lips.

  He lifted his body from hers and rested on his side, pulling her close. Diana laid her head against his chest and thought she’d never heard anything lovelier than the wild thump of his heartbeat.

  “You’re well?” he asked when his breathing had steadied.

  Diana laughed and ran her finger down his chest. “That is an insufficient description.”

  “Tell me then.”

  “Wonderful,” she told him quietly, though it was the kind of superlative she rarely ever used. But it was true as it had never been before. “And what are you?” She lifted her head to look into his eyes.

  He smiled at her and stroked a hand through her hair. Then he frowned and his eyes widened, as if he’d come to some realization. “I’m content.”

  “You sound far too surprised.” She pushed at his chest playfully.

  “I am,” he said earnestly. “I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it before.”

  “Why?” She thought perhaps she understood. She too felt a sense of rightness in his arms that she’d never imagined feeling with anyone. But she sensed there was more, and she knew instinctively that it led back to his family.

  So she waited and laid her head against his chest. He took a breath as if to speak, but no words emerged for a long while.

  Finally, he said, “I’ve never known where I belong.” The words came out rough, as if his throat had gone dry. “To be honest, I’m not even sure of my name. The workhouse may have given it to my sister and me for all I know.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I try not to.” He shifted, his hand tensing against her back. “I made a mistake that I can never fix.” On a whisper, he said, “My sister Sarah. I left her behind. She was quite young when I ran away. I didn’t want her to sleep on the streets, but I promised I’d come back when I found a place for us.”

  Diana swallowed back the sting of tears. The pain in his voice was raw, and part of her wanted him to stop, if only to keep him from the pain. But she had to know, and she suspected he needed to tell someone too.

  He drew in a long breath and said on an exhale, “The workhouse burned. I lost my sister, or so I’d thought until a few days ago. A man at the lodging house where I was born says she’s alive.”

  “Do you believe him? Has he told you where to find her?”

  “I don’t know what to believe, and he has no information. The envelope I gave you is the only lead
I have.”

  Diana lifted her head again. “I’ll help you if I can.”

  “You already have.” He kissed her, a slow, tender caress of his lips against hers. Then he cupped her cheek against his palm. “I love you, Diana.”

  Her heart swelled, nearly burst inside her chest. They were the words she longed to hear. And yet her tongue felt thick and she offered him nothing in reply.

  His gentle smile faltered, and she hated the disappointment that flickered in his eyes. But he stroked her back and pulled her closer, tucking her against him again. He kissed the top of her head but said nothing more.

  Diana closed her eyes and fought the sting of tears. Something inside wouldn’t allow her to give the words back to him. She’d told him they wouldn’t think of the future.

  Just this one night. That’s all they could have.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Walking into Lyon’s often required Aidan to reacquaint himself with its sounds and scents. He’d never spent as much time at the club as Tremayne, who oversaw it with all the worry of a mother hen, or Huntley, who spent as much time there drinking and gaming as its most devoted members.

  He smelled roasted ham and the distinct aroma of kippers and guessed that breakfast hours had been extended, as they sometimes were on Saturdays. The gaming tables were less crowded this early in the morning, but there were some inveterate risk takers still leaning over the green baize, hoping to make fortune their friend.

  The club was just as impressive in daylight as lit by lamplight in the evenings. The gilded walls and crystal fixtures sparkled in the sunlight pouring in from the enormous multicolored glass dome overhead.

  A few members recognized Aidan and lifted glasses in salute or offered nods of acknowledgment. Most didn’t give him a moment’s notice.

  He scanned the upstairs balcony, where he knew Tremayne liked to hide, but he could see no one beyond the polished balustrade.

  Aidan made his way down to the office and noticed a difference he never had before. A few paintings, mostly watercolors, had been added to the walls. He suspected Tremayne’s wife was to blame. Or to thank. The art enlivened the grim space, and he was grateful his friend had found a woman who continually challenged him, both in business and in life.

  Now that Aidan was contemplating marriage for himself, it was precisely what he wanted too.

  Nick stood donning his overcoat when Aidan stepped into his office.

  “You caught me,” he said with a less than guilty smile curving his mouth.

  “Are you on your way to an appointment?”

  “No.” Nick shrugged. “Not if you need to speak to me. I was simply going to go for a walk, if you must know. The air in the club begins to feel stale after a while. I thought a walk might improve my mood.”

  Slipping his coat off again, he indicated one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “Sit. Tell me what’s brought you here so early.”

  “What brought you?” Aidan asked in all seriousness.

  Nick spent more time at the club than he and Huntley combined, but he was often the last to depart in the evening, which meant he rarely managed to be the first in for early morning hours.

  “If you must know, I was going to attempt a meeting with Lockwood on your behalf.”

  “Nick—”

  He held up a hand. “Before you thank or chastise me, just know that the meeting never took place. I indicated the time and place, but I’ve received no reply to my correspondence.”

  “I do appreciate your effort,” Aidan told him sincerely. “But I haven’t come regarding the exhibition or my desire to win Lockwood’s favor.”

  Nick nodded. “Good. It’s better not to be too focused on one singular goal that might turn to disappointment.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Nick drew his head back in surprise. “I can’t believe I just advised you not to be single-minded.”

  Aidan chuckled, and the lightness of it eased a bit of the tightness that had been riding his chest all morning. “You are quite the most bullheaded and single-minded man I’ve ever known.”

  “Agreed.” Nick stared at the carpet as if trying to sort out his fresh change of perspective. “But I also know that there are some pursuits that are futile. If Lockwood can’t be bothered to answer a duke’s letter for a simple morning meeting, then I’m not sure he’s the sort of man you should wish to plan any event with.”

  Aidan smiled. “My main interest is in the industrial equipment and inventors who’ll present at the exhibition rather than hobnobbing with Lockwood.”

  “Of course,” Nick agreed. “But sit. Tell me why you’ve come today if not about Lockwood.”

  Aidan lowered himself into the chair and wiped a hand across his mouth. He still found it difficult to think of anything other than Diana, the night they’d spent together, and the fact that she’d been gone when he awoke in the morning. No note. No early morning good-bye. Just a cold, empty space in his bed.

  The rightness of being with her. That was what he held on to. She had chosen him and that moment, and he didn’t regret any of it. All he truly wanted was to find a way to have her in his life every day and his bed every night. His ambition, his hunger for success—that was a shadow of how much he wanted Diana.

  “I need your advice.” The four words were nearly impossible to get out and he felt a weight in the pit of his stomach the moment they were.

  Aidan was comfortable with Nick. He trusted Nick. But coming to Nick, to anyone, for personal advice was something he’d never dreamed he’d find himself doing. Aidan had once advised Nick on how to survive. Perhaps, in some way, Aidan was now asking for the same in return.

  “How can I help?” Nick asked, and then steepled his fingers to rest his chin on top as he assessed Aidan. “This is about a woman?”

  “Is it so obvious?”

  “To me. I doubt others would see it.” Nick picked up and tested the heft of a paperweight in his hand. He kept his gaze focused on the polished stone, almost as if he sensed how difficult this was for Aidan and was giving him space to find the words. “Go on. Tell me everything and I’ll help you in any way I am able.”

  “When did you know?” Aidan asked him. “When did you know you’d fallen and would give up anything to be with your wife?”

  Nick lifted his head and stared at the back wall of his office; a smile tipped the edge of his mouth as if he was seeing the moment clearly in his mind’s eye. “I met her the day I arrived at the estate. We clashed instantly, but I knew then that she would change everything.”

  “Yes,” was all Aidan could manage. He too knew what it was to meet a woman in unexpected circumstances and know almost immediately that she would remain on his mind.

  “So you’ve found your noblewoman, but you’re not certain if she’s the right one?” Nick prompted when Aidan fell silent.

  “No.” Aidan stood and began pacing Nick’s office, struggling to gather his thoughts. “She’s not a noblewoman.”

  “I don’t understand.” Leather creaked and the springs underneath his chair groaned as Nick settled back and crossed his arms. “Your intent was to woo a blue-blooded bride, was it not? Who is this woman who has you virtually speechless?”

  For the first time, Aidan realized Nick might find some impropriety in his relationship with Diana. Not that either of them had ever worried much about propriety before. But nor had either of them had much to lose for most of their lives. Since Diana was one of the inventors to present before the Den, and the first woman, Aidan hesitated to explain more to his friend.

  “She’s an extraordinary woman, unlike any I’ve ever met before.”

  “But she cares for you and you for her? Which is enough to make you overlook your goals?” Nick sounded dubious as he drew out the words, as if he was attempting to piece together a puzzle and none of it quite made sense.

  “She doesn’t wish to marry.” Aidan turned back to face him, hands braced on his hips. “Any advice on how to woo a woman who dis
dains the very notion of wedlock?”

  Nick’s furrowed brow and confused frown indicated he did not. “Iverson, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

  Aidan closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Diana was there in his mind, and deeper, in his cold, walled-off heart. She’d proved all of his planning and strategies to be absolute nonsense. She’d proved that all the walls he’d thought he’d built were nothing but paper thin.

  When he opened his eyes, he found Nick had stood. He wore an expression of such concern, Aidan let out a chuckle.

  “I’m not sure because I’ve damned well never felt it before, but I think what I’ve gotten myself into is love.”

  The smile that broke over Nick’s face came slowly, but finally spread into a beaming grin. “I’m trying so hard not to say I told you so.”

  “Not that hard, apparently.”

  “Don’t lose her,” Nick told him in a serious tone. “Don’t apply your rules and strategies to this and attempt to turn it into some kind of fair exchange.”

  Aidan was on the verge of confessing that he had done precisely that.

  “If this is right, you’ll know and she’ll know. Nothing will need to be forced or arranged.”

  “I know it’s right. I’m not certain she agrees.”

  Nick crossed the room until they were face-to-face. “Then that, my friend, is where you begin.”

  Diana pressed gently as she rubbed the graphite over the envelope Aidan had given her. She’d vowed to help him, and she meant to keep her word.

  A chemical test had revealed a nearly unnoticeable depression in the paper, and she prayed this simple technique would cause whatever might be imprinted to emerge. She used a brush to sweep away some of the dark flakes and gasped when a few faint letters became visible.

  A J and an S with a space between them that she soon realized was an O. A man’s name. Joseph. No, there was more. An I was almost indistinguishable but made an undeniable mark at the end. Josephi might be part of a surname or Josephine, a lady’s name, which meant nothing to her. She hoped it might mean something to Aidan.