Her Night with the Duke

by Diana Quincy

  “I never intended for you to be hurt or humiliated. I am so sorry.”

  He did not seem at all moved by her apology. “If you truly regret your actions, go away and don’t ever come back.” He turned from her. “I never want to see you again.”

  She trailed after him into the wooded area. “Please don’t ask me to do that.”

  He spun around, fury written all over his face. Dappled sunlight dotted his cheeks. “What is it that you want from me?” he practically shouted. “Haven’t you done enough? Why are you even here?”

  “I came to make certain that you are well. I am worried about you.”

  “It’s a bit late for your concern.” He spread his arms wide, palms up. “But, as you can see, I am fine. Now you can go.”

  She couldn’t bear to leave matters between them in such a terrible state. “Can we just go back to the house and talk calmly?”

  “About what? There’s nothing left to say.”

  Leela felt a sense of rising panic. He truly wanted her gone. The idea of never seeing Hunt again, and, worse, knowing he hated her, was unthinkable.

  “Can we not be friends?”

  “Friends.” He laughed without mirth, an ugly, harsh sound. “No, we cannot be friends.”

  “I miss you.” Her voice caught. She took a moment to gather herself. “The thought of leaving here and never setting eyes on you again is unbearable.”

  He shook his head. “Stop talking like that,” he said angrily. “It is too late. I no longer feel the same about you. I have no tenderness left in me. I might hate you.”

  She stepped closer. “You don’t hate me. You’re afraid of me.”

  He reflexively moved back, maintaining a certain distance between them. “Think what you will. Just go and leave me in peace.”

  “It is too bad that golf ball missed its mark. Maybe it would have knocked some sense into you.”

  “For God’s sake, Leela, what do you want from me?”

  “I want you to have the courage to be honest. You could never hate me any more than I could hate you.”

  His eyes darkened. The air between throbbed with expectation. “I don’t want you here.”

  “Why is that? Is it because you still desire me?” Attraction arced between them. She felt the pull of it. Hunt must sense it as well.

  Anger lit his face. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck you right here?”

  “Is that what you want?” She would not let him drive her away with crude words.

  His face changed. Surprise certainly, but she also registered the desire in his gaze. “Go away, Leela, before we both do something we will regret.”

  “There is no obstacle between us now. Nothing to stop us.” The words spilled out of her before she even knew what she was saying. “We are both adults without any attachments.”

  “Is that what you think?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Imagine what the broadsheets will say when they discover I’ve taken up with my runaway bride’s stepmama.”

  “I don’t care what they say.”

  “Why are you doing this?” He stared at her, conflicting emotions warring on his face. “This is madness.”

  “I cannot help what I feel. Can you?”

  With a groan, he practically lunged for her, pressing her back up against the rough surface of the old oak. Cradling her jaw in his large hands, he angled her mouth up toward his before his lips came crashing down on hers, rough, insistent, uncontrolled. His tongue invaded her mouth, giving her no quarter, hungrily tangling with her tongue.

  Leela almost sobbed with relief. Tears squeezed from her closed eyes as she soaked up the feel of him, the taste of him, coffee and something minty. His heat flowed over her and mingled with her own.

  “Elliot,” she murmured as he blazed a trail of kisses and love bites down her neck. Her knees almost buckled when he urgently sucked the tender spot where her neck melded into her shoulder.

  He caught her in a ruthless embrace, his unrelenting body pressing into every soft curve in hers, fiercely claiming her. “Are you certain you want this?” he growled.

  She reached for the buttons of his breeches, the backs of her fingers brushing the prodigious bulge she found there. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  “So be it.” He lifted her skirts and shoved them out of the way. His fingers found the wetness between her thighs. He circled the bud where so much sensation throbbed. “You’re ready.”

  He kissed her hard, plundered her mouth, taking everything that she willingly gave. He laid her onto the thick carpet of leaves and moved over her. She spread her legs to receive him. He positioned himself between her thighs and the feel of him at her entrance was like a bolt of electricity. He pushed into her in one sharp motion, filling her completely. “Is this what you want?”

  Her body clutched him, urging him farther inside of her. “Yes.” She sighed with relief. She was finally where she was supposed to be. “Hurry.”

  He began to move inside of her. Quick, urgent motions that were delicious in their pointed deliberation. Not gentle exactly. But he wasn’t hurting her. His eyes were on hers as he stroked into her. “Tell me that you like it.”

  She grabbed his hair with both hands and stared into his blue sea eyes. “I love it.” I love you. She kissed him hard. Hunt groaned and something inside him released, that cold control gone. He stroked into her with relentless urgency. Her heart slammed, her blood pumping through her veins. Shivers sprinkled down her spine as the exquisite pressure built inside of her, sending her spiraling headlong into a shattering bliss that made her cry out.

  He made a guttural sound as he froze deep inside of her, releasing into her, shuddering as the pleasure of the release rocked him. He lay there for a moment with his face in her neck. She embraced him, relishing his warmth and strength.

  He pulled away and she immediately felt cold. He came to his feet, buttoning his breeches. Leela followed his movements in a contented daze, the sublime sensations of their coupling still flowing through her like a lazy river. The pulsing between her legs still delivering glorious pleasure.

  He looked at her with no expression on his face. “You got what you wanted.”

  Oh yes. She nodded. “I certainly did.”

  “Good. Now that you got what you came for, you can leave and never come back.” He turned and strode away without looking back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was all Hunt could do not to break into a run as he left Leela behind.

  If he looked back, he would be lost. The truth was that he was too weak to stay with her and too weak to leave her. He wanted to hate her. In fact, he’d been convinced he hated her until she’d chased him down and demanded to be heard.

  She was magnificent. Her eyes flashing. Her bearing proud. Leela was passionate and unafraid. Unlike him. She was right to brand him a coward. Hunt was afraid. He feared the man he became when he was with Leela. In her presence, he would willingly throw everything away just to see her smile, or to experience the way those sultry eyes lit up when she saw him.

  The double doors opened immediately as he approached the entrance. Hughes met him at the door.

  “Is all well, Your Grace?”

  Hunt brushed by the man. “Have a bath prepared for me immediately.”

  “Yes, Your Grace, right away.” He hurried after Hunt. “I did inform Lady Devon that you weren’t receiving visitors.”

  They’d been in full view of the house out on the green. No doubt the entire staff had witnessed Leela hurling a ball at his head. For the first time in more than a week, Hunt felt the urge to smile. Few people, man or woman, dared to take a duke to task the way she had.

  “Don’t concern yourself. I know better than most that Lady Devon can be difficult to dissuade once she sets her mind to something.” He took the stairs two at a time.

  “She did not return with you.”

  “I’m sure Lady Devon will be along shortly.” Remorse twisted in his chest at the way he�
�d left her. She’d never looked more beautiful with her flushed cheeks and soft curls that had escaped their pins. The warm scent of her skin still clung to him. She’d given herself to him completely. He had not done the same. He’d slaked his lust and left her. “Prepare a bath for Lady Devon as well.”

  Hughes stopped on the landing. “Very good, Your Grace.”

  Hunt threw open the door to his bedchamber, startling his valet, who stood by the dressing room folding Hunt’s cravats. “They’re preparing my bath,” Hunt informed the man, eager to be alone with his thoughts and roiling emotions. “Please see to it.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Once Hunt was alone, he stalked over to the window and stared out over the green. There was no sign of Leela. Was she still in the woods? He cursed loudly.

  He owed her an apology. And much more. That was certain. Once he bathed and got ahold of himself, he would seek her out and issue his apology before she departed. His gut hollowed at the thought of Leela leaving Eaton Park. In the short time since her arrival, Leela’s presence in his house had made the old pile of bricks feel more alive.

  Once he’d bathed and dressed, Hunt called for Hughes. “Where is Lady Devon?”

  “The countess is preparing for her departure, Your Grace. Her coach just pulled up to the front entrance.”

  She was leaving. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

  Hughes blinked. “Your Grace? Your instructions were that you did not wish to see her.”

  “Never mind,” Hunt said irritably. He strode down the corridor and trotted down the stairs, eager to speak with Leela, to apologize. He found her manservant waiting by the coach, but no sign of Leela herself.

  “Where is Lady Devon?”

  The old man shrugged his shoulders. “No English,” he said apologetically. Hunt strode back through the entrance. His heart lifted when he spotted Leela coming down the stairs.

  She paused to speak with his butler. “Thank you, Hughes. And please express my regards to the rest of the staff for their excellent care of me.”

  “Certainly, my lady. It has been my pleasure. May I wish you a safe journey home?”

  “You may, thank you. Goodbye.”

  She marched toward the entrance with her head held high, staring straight ahead as if Hunt wasn’t present. He intercepted her before she reached the open door.

  “Lady Devon.”

  She finally met his gaze, her eyes filled with hostility. She was so magnificent that his chest hurt.

  “I must apologize—”

  “Get out of my way.” Her hand swung out to slap him hard across the face, the force of it almost knocking him off-balance. The butler gasped and behind Hunt the footman uttered a sound of surprise.

  Hunt held a cool hand against his burning cheek. “I deserved that and much worse.”

  “Don’t I know it. Get out of my way.”

  “At least give me a moment to apologize.”

  “No.” She moved to go around him.

  He followed, getting ahead of her and dropping hard on his knees on the marble floor facing her. “I beg of you. Grant me just three minutes of your time.”

  “What are you doing?” She flushed, darting a look from Hughes’s astonished face to the rounded disbelieving gaze of the footman standing sentry at the entrance.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Hunt asked. “I am on my knees begging for your forgiveness.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” she snapped. “Get up.”

  Behind her, Hughes, who’d recovered his usual inscrutable expression, motioned for the footman to exit. The front doors clicked shut behind Hunt. The butler turned away from the drama playing out before him, deliberately staring up at the ceiling.

  “Yikhrib baitak,” she said. “Stop this silliness at once.”

  Hunt’s knees hurt from kneeling on the hard surface. “I’m prostrating myself, embarrassing myself in front of my staff. And you know how much I abhor making a scene.”

  “Get up,” she hissed.

  “Only if you agree to hear me out. You don’t have to accept my apology, but please at least hear me out.”

  “Oh, very well.” She rolled her eyes. “Just get up.”

  “Thank God.” He stiffly stood, his hands rubbing his sore kneecaps. “This marble floor was killing my knees.”

  She avoided looking at him. “Kindly speak your piece so that I may leave.”

  “Perhaps we can go someplace a little more private?” When she did not object, he escorted her to the nearest drawing room.

  “I have been a complete idiot,” he began, closing the door behind them.

  “Wrong,” she interrupted. “I’m the fool. Thank goodness Victoria escaped you. Unlike me, she was clever enough to see the real you. But I won’t be making that mistake again. I finally see you exactly for who you are.”

  “I have no excuse for my shabby treatment of you.” He tried to explain himself. “It’s just that you overwhelm me. I don’t know how to handle the intensity of my feelings for you. My brother followed his emotions and—”

  “Oh, spare me. I’ve heard quite enough about this stupid family curse of yours. You are in control of your own life. And of your contemptible actions.”

  “Intellectually, of course, I realize that.”

  “This is the second time you’ve run away after we’ve made love. You deserted me at the inn and just now in the woods. You make a habit of abandoning me precisely when I am at my most vulnerable. What kind of a woman keeps coming back to a man who treats her so poorly? I’m a fool.”

  “I’m the fool and we both know it.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and rested her hips against the back of the sofa. “That’s indisputable.”

  “It was because I felt so strongly about you that I pursued a betrothal with Victoria, against my own instincts.”

  She held up a hand. “By all means, castigate me for forcing a poor, powerless man into a betrothal. Do not worry, I shall depart shortly and will never bother you again.”

  “I was wrong to blame you. I was wrong to leave you at the inn. And I was an absolute bastard to leave you the way I just did.”

  “On that we both agree.”

  “You were right back there. I am a coward. When we made love, it was the happiest I’d ever been. And that scared me. I do reckless things when I am around you. I lose control.”

  “How fortunate that you and your control will be completely safe now that I am leaving for good.”

  He stepped closer. “I want you to stay. I promise never to treat you so shabbily again. You have no reason to trust me, but if you give me another chance, I promise I shall never disappoint you.”

  She looked away; a tear slipped down her cheek. “You hurt me.”

  “I know.” His heart squeezed. “I realize I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am desperate for it.”

  She finally looked at him. “I am afraid to give you the power to hurt me again.”

  “You once told me I was like the moon.”

  “That seems like a long time ago.”

  “If I am the moon, then you are my sun. The sun can shine on its own, but I cannot shine without you.”

  Her eyes softened. “That’s an old Arabic proverb. It’s in my book.”

  “I know.” He stepped closer and reached for her gloved hand. “My life is dull and lusterless without you. I want nothing more than to bask in your sunshine. Please let me.”

  She gave a reluctant smile. “That sounds rather poetic.”

  “Does that mean you accept my apology?”

  “I don’t know,” she said stubbornly. “You don’t deserve to be forgiven so easily.”

  “While you are considering the situation, may I demonstrate how sorry I am?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How do you intend to do that?”

  “It involves me getting back on my knees.”

  Her breath caught. “Does it?”

  He moved closer and set his hands on
the tops of her thighs. “Yes.”

  “What else does it entail?” she asked breathlessly.

  He spread her legs wider with his hands, massaging the tops of her thighs. “Expert use of my tongue.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks were bright. “I happen to know that you have a very clever tongue. At times,” she added.

  He leaned forward and angled in to press his mouth to hers. Keeping his lips relaxed, he kissed her long and slow, taking his time, savoring the sweet sensation. She smelled clean and warm from her recent bath. Her breath had the aroma of cloves from her tooth powder.

  He nipped her bottom lip and then the top. His tongue brushed between her lips. Then dipped inside the warm smoothness of her mouth. She was reluctant at first, allowing the kiss without actively participating in it. He was in no hurry. He coaxed her gently, sipping delicately from the nectar he found there, moving his tongue in lazy strokes, tempting her until she relented, hesitantly at first, and then more enthusiastically, moving her tongue in tandem with his until they were practically sparring in the most sensual way of his experience. Heat and pleasure built inside of him.

  She abruptly broke the kiss and turned her head to the side. “I hate myself for being so weak.”

  “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know that.” He dropped to his knees. “But please let me worship you as you deserve.”

  Lifting her skirts, he bared shapely calves in fine white silk stockings. When she did not object, he ran a hand up her leg, caressing her calf. He pushed her skirts higher, revealing the garters that held up her stockings and the smooth bronze skin at the top of her thighs. The weight of her skirts disappeared from his hands. He realized Leela held the crumpled dress high up against her chest, baring her clean, smooth private place to his hungry gaze.

  Adrenaline pumped through him. But Hunt forced himself to go slow. To make it good for her after how he’d hurt her. To pay this delicious penance. The scent of her arousal filled his senses as he pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh. Leela moaned and widened her legs, improving his access to the treasure of her most intimate place.

  He licked his way up her thigh, sucking at the crease between her thigh and her mons, where her leg met her hips.