The Duke I Once Knew

by Olivia Drake

  Pleased by his infatuated tone, she undulated her hips and his manhood twitched, hot and heavy against her thigh. “Perhaps you should have joined me in the water.”

  He sucked in a breath between his teeth, then lightly slapped her bare bottom. “Nymph. And to think I stayed away from you all these years.”

  Because you don’t love me.

  The unwelcome thought flitted into her head as he pressed her back against the grass to kiss her throat and breasts. Abby arched her neck, wanting to lose herself in the heated haze of desire. She was glad that he hadn’t expected a reply. The last thing she needed was to spill out her heart to an experienced rake. The love that dwelled within her must remain a secret. Let him return to the city none the wiser.

  Winding her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with all the fervor that she dared not put into words. The world slipped away, leaving only the two of them, entwined in passion. Timeless moments passed in which they explored each other’s bodies. He knew a dozen ways to make her moan with pleasure, a dozen more to enhance the mounting tide of her fervor. His hand slid down between them to caress the place that burned so exquisitely for his touch. Now that she knew what awaited her, she rolled her hips against his in an effort to quench the fire.

  When the tip of him probed her center, a shiver of keen readiness rippled through her. Yet still he teased her with kisses and caresses until her skin felt slick and hot and she lay panting beneath him. Only then did he enter her with a smooth, inexorable thrust.

  A twinge of pain made her stiffen, her nails raking down his back. Surely he was too large, too thick. But any discomfort swiftly faded away into a superb sense of fullness. Nothing in her experience could match the marvel of feeling him embedded so deeply inside herself. She closed her eyes and sighed, the better to savor the perfection of their joined bodies.

  When she opened them again, Max was braced over her, his muscles taut as if to hold his passions in check. His eyes were dark, his lashes half lowered as he stared down at her. He bent his head to brush a warm, almost reverent kiss to her brow. “Abby…”

  A fierce tenderness vibrated in his voice. Awash with emotion, she reached up to trace his beloved features. She couldn’t have spoken at that moment, for her throat felt too taut. He completed her; they were meant to be together like this. It felt gloriously right to be ravished by him, as if this were the moment for which she had waited her entire life.

  He began to move inside of her, drawing back slowly to her entrance, only to press inwardly again. The deep, steady friction of his actions carried her to breathless heights. All the while, he scattered kisses over her face and whispered rough endearments about her beauty, her perfection. His every utterance enhanced the mounting fire of her passion.

  She arched her hips, finding the rhythm of his thrusts until it seemed they were one person, caught up in wild harmony. The enticing torment chased away all coherent thought. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist in an effort to become ever closer to him.

  Uttering a low growl in his chest, he quickened his movements to a frenzied pace, driving into her harder, faster. Her breath came in labored gasps and his skin felt hot against hers, slick with sweat. Each thrust transported her higher on the climb to that indescribable pleasure …

  And then she was there, falling into heaven, released into the radiant waves of paradise. In the midst of the ecstatic glow, she was aware of Max lunging into her one final time before his powerful body shuddered from the vigor of his release. Groaning her name, he settled over her and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

  They lay entwined for a time as their breathing eased and their heartbeats returned to normal. Awash in pure happiness, she savored the feel of him still inside of her, though he was not as fully engorged as before. He seemed as if he’d fallen into a doze, and she could think of no more wonderful gift than to hold him like this.

  By slow degrees, Abby grew aware of the chirping of the birds and the lapping of water. The whisper of a cool breeze against her exposed skin tugged her back to an awareness of their surroundings.

  Her eyes snapped open. The dawn sky had brightened considerably. She could see leafy branches swaying overhead and the sunlit luster of the marble temple. The hard ground felt cold beneath her back.

  Heaven help her. She and Max were sprawled naked in the grass by the lake. Outside in the open where anyone might come upon them.

  Chapter 19

  He drifted in a fog between wakefulness and slumber, too drained of strength to move or think. His every breath held the alluring scent of woman. And not just any woman. Abby.

  His semiconscious state rejected any more lucid thought than that. It was so much finer to luxuriate in the feel of her body beneath him, to relish the pillow of soft breasts and the cradle of feminine hips. Those long legs had been wrapped around his waist in the throes of passion. Who would have thought she could be so damned seductive as to make him lose his mind? Or that such an amazingly sensual woman could be hidden beneath prickly primness—

  Her hands rudely shook his shoulders. “Max! Get up! We mustn’t tarry here any longer.”

  Yanked from his reverie, he raised his head and his chest clenched at the sight of Abby. Damp cinnamon hair feathered around her face and flowed downward to coil around her bare breasts. Her flushed skin and reddened lips gave testament to her well-satisfied state. Those expressive blue eyes stared up at him in urgent supplication.

  In an effort to rise, she was squirming rather delightfully beneath him. Despite his sluggish state, his body made a valiant attempt to revive. It was surely impossible, yet he craved her again. That was when he noticed a fact that jerked him fully awake.

  He had not withdrawn. He had spilled his seed inside of her. It was a reckless mistake he hadn’t committed in years, not since he was a callow youth, and a courtesan had taught him that means of preventing the siring of illegitimate offspring.

  “Max, are you even listening? Pray, move off me at once. We must hurry and get dressed.”

  He stared starkly at her for another instant before springing to his feet. He ran one hand through his mussed hair, while extending the other to pull her upright. She arose nimbly, a wealth of untidy locks cascading around her shoulders and down to her slender waist. Her wide-eyed gaze flicked over his naked body, then lowered demurely as she hastened around him, going to the neat pile of her clothing on the steps of the temple.

  Realizing the source of her agitation, he found himself unexpectedly amused. “Why so shy all of a sudden? We’re no different than Adam and Eve.”

  “Don’t be absurd. Anyone might come upon us.”

  “Bah. It’s just after dawn. The gardeners are still at their breakfast.”

  “Well, we had better not take that chance.”

  Watching her bend down to snatch the top garment, Max was certain he had never seen a lovelier sight. The early light painted her feminine curves with a pearly glow. As she straightened up to shake the wrinkles out of a spare shift, her shapely body held his attention. He mourned the prospect of her covering it again.

  Several long strides took him straight to her. Reaching underneath the curtain of her hair, he skimmed his hand down the smoothness of her spine and over the pert curve of her bottom.

  She started, whirling around to face him. “Do stop! Really, Max, there’s no time for us to … to…”

  “Make love again?” Grinning, he dangled a dry oak leaf in front of her face. “You’ll be pleased to know I was merely brushing off a few leaves and blades of grass.”

  A blush tinged her cheeks. “Oh. Thank you, then.”

  He found himself both charmed and irked by her reversion to modesty. Watching her pivot away to don the shift, he crumbled the dry leaf between his fingers. She wasn’t like other women, who tended to spout praise for his prowess or tried to wheedle gifts out of him. He was exceedingly glad of that. He didn’t need gushing commentary to know that Abby had enjoyed their coupling every
bit as much as he had.

  Yet she wasn’t truly going to end this affair without making any demands on him, was she?

  At the very least, he expected recriminations for stealing her maidenhood, perhaps tearful accusations that he’d seduced her, then a plea for the immediate posting of their wedding banns. But she didn’t even seem inclined to scold him for tempting her into sin.

  The fact of the matter was, he didn’t know what the devil she was thinking at all. She had closed him out. It was as if now that she’d experienced the joys of sex, Abby no longer needed him.

  She tugged a pale blue gown over her head, thrusting her arms through the cap sleeves and letting the hem fall to her feet, then discreetly adjusted the fabric over her bosom. Her hasty manner disgruntled him. Clearly, she couldn’t wait to don the trappings of civilization and make her escape.

  Smoothing her hands over the skirt, she frowned at him. “Max, for heaven’s sake, your clothes,” she said in a stern governess tone. “If we’re found here like this, you’ll be obliged to…”

  “To offer for you, Abby?”

  Her eyes fixed on him for a moment. They were big and blue and eloquent, and he cursed himself for bringing up the topic of matrimony. Why had he done so? He surely couldn’t be considering …

  She gave a brisk nod. “Yes, so do make haste. Not even the Duke of Rothwell could escape a leg shackle under such circumstances. My brothers would force you to the altar with a fowling piece loaded with buckshot. I’m quite certain that is the last predicament in which you would wish to find yourself!”

  Her emphasis on the word you rubbed Max the wrong way.

  Scowling, he snatched up his breeches, yanked them on, and buttoned the placket. He could have done without her unvarnished denunciation of his character. Especially since she had already told him a few days ago that his greatest accomplishment in life was seducing women. Did she really think him such a cad that he would abandon her?

  Obviously, she did.

  He shrugged away the fact that his dissolute reputation had never given her any reason to think otherwise. She ought to know he’d been racking his brain to find a way out of this dilemma. He hadn’t, after all, planned to make love to her. For a man who prided himself on levelheadedness, this was new territory for him. What was he supposed to do now? He knew how to handle actresses and opera singers, randy widows and courtesans and a host of other experienced women. But never before had he seduced a virginal lady, let alone one whose past was so entangled with his.

  Seeing Abby strain to fasten the back of her gown, he went to lend assistance. He pushed aside the silken heaviness of her hair, still damp from her swim, and started at the bottom of the long row of buttons.

  “You needn’t bother,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ve done without a maid before, so I’ve become quite adept at buttoning myself.”

  His fingers paused on one of the tiny white buttons. “I see,” he snapped. “You’re so independent you’ll refuse my help even with this?”

  She halfway turned her head to give him a contrite look. “Oh, Max, I’m sorry. That was terribly abrupt, wasn’t it? I only meant that you’ll be wanting to start back to the house. It won’t do for us to be seen walking in together.”

  Instead of mollifying him, her apology only further abraded his temper. He focused his attention on the buttons. As his fingers brushed the lovely curve of her waist, he found himself brooding over the prospect of never again having the right to touch her.

  “It doesn’t matter if we’re seen together,” he said testily. “I intend to marry you, of course.”

  The words slipped from his tongue. Max hadn’t made a conscious decision to voice them. He hadn’t thought ahead to the consequences of his actions at all. From the moment he’d spied her from the window, his brain had been addled by desire for her. Now, he suffered a moment’s panic before he used logic to cudgel his emotions back into a box.

  The fact was, he had to make her his wife. It was the only honorable choice of action for a gentleman in such a situation.

  Abby stood motionless, her fingers frozen on the top button of her gown. Then she slowly lowered her arms and turned to stare at him, one eyebrow lifted in a graceful arch. “You’ll marry me of course? If that was a proposal, it was shoddily done.”

  “Forgive me, but surely you can see that wedlock is the only answer.” He glided the backs of his fingers over the soft skin of her cheek. “I’ve ruined you, Abby. I owe you restitution for that.”

  Pursing her lips, she regarded him inscrutably, and he had the uneasy sense that he was handling this all wrong. Then she combed her fingers through her tangled hair and began to wind it into a loose coil atop her head. “You are prepared to give up all your other women, then?”

  Her cool question knocked him off kilter. It was something he’d never even considered with any other female. Which was perhaps why he’d never spared a single thought for the topic of fidelity. In society, wives generally looked the other way when their husbands took mistresses.

  “I see,” she said, before he could articulate a reply. “Your hesitation tells me my answer. Well, I refuse your dictate. I believe that wedding vows are to be taken very seriously, and if you cannot promise to do the same, then we’ve nothing more to say on the matter.”

  Leaving his side, Abby glided to the steps of the temple. She leaned down to pick up a few pins, pushing them one by one into her hair to anchor the soft curls in place. In profile, she appeared serene and unruffled in contrast to his own agitated state.

  Feeling as if he’d been poked by one of those pins, Max snatched up his shirt and dragged it over his head. She had rejected him, by God. She would not be his wife, after all. He ought to be relieved at his close escape, yet his gut churned, making him feel on the verge of exploding.

  He stomped toward her. “You aren’t thinking this through,” he said aggressively, stuffing his shirttails into the waistband of his breeches. “You can’t just walk away and pretend that nothing happened between us.”

  “I’m not pretending any such thing. I enjoyed what we did together, Max. Very much so. It was truly a wonderful experience.” Her eyes glowed in such a way that his heart leaped; then the light died as she glanced toward the path to the house. “But I mustn’t linger here any longer. Your sister will be expecting me to breakfast with her.”

  “Not yet. We haven’t settled certain … matters.”

  “Matters?” She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. “I do hope you don’t think to persuade me to continue our dalliance. That’s impossible, you know.”

  “Of course I know! You needn’t lecture me on how to treat a lady.”

  “Then what?”

  She looked genuinely puzzled, and he thrust his fingers through his hair again. It was difficult for him to force out the words. “You’re forgetting that there may be consequences. I might have impregnated you, Abby.”

  She caught her breath. Softness shone in her eyes as she slipped her hand down over her midsection. Then the radiance of emotion faded and she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t believe that’s very likely.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “Because…” Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink. “I’ve heard my sisters observe that a woman seems most likely to conceive at the midpoint between her monthly courses and, well, mine have just ended.”

  He certainly hoped she was right. Or did he? There was something curiously appealing about the fantasy of Abby suckling his son or daughter at her breast. He had to firm his jaw against a soppy smile.

  Good God, had he gone completely mad?

  Frowning moodily, he watched Abby lift her hem to slide her bare feet into a pair of dainty leather shoes. Even that simple action fascinated him. The sweet curve of her neck looked tempting enough to kiss. Now that he knew how beautiful and responsive she was underneath all those clothes, he wanted to turn back the clock and make love to her all over again.

  But she was right, b
last her. They must not indulge their lust anymore. Not ever again. It was over.

  Unless she was with child. Would she marry him, then?

  He caught hold of her shoulders. “You will promise to tell me at once if you do find yourself in a delicate condition.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, “of course.”

  Time seemed suspended as they gazed at each other. He felt the need to say something profound. But the glib phrases he usually employed on parting from other women seemed all wrong. He couldn’t think of how to frame the words to express his impossible wish to prolong their liaison.

  All of a sudden, she smiled at him with heartfelt warmth. Arching up on tiptoe, she brushed a butterfly kiss over his lips. “Thank you, Max, for the finest birthday gift anyone has ever given me.”

  With that, Abby pulled away from him. She collected her wet towel and shift, then darted lightly up the path that led through the trees. Though he watched until she vanished into the woods, she did not look back.

  A knot stuck in his throat as he paced to and fro along the shore of the lake. He felt obliged to allow her a head start of at least ten minutes. After all, she had been adamant about them not being seen together.

  Max took umbrage at the thought. He was accustomed to being the one to walk away, the one to make the decisions and issue the orders. First and foremost, she ought to have accepted his proposal. Then he wouldn’t have been left with this bedeviling sense of guilt and loss.

  Maybe he’d handled the matter all wrong. Maybe she’d have been more receptive if he had dropped to one knee, clapped his hand to his heart, and declared—what? Undying love?

  Not Abby. Surely not. She was too sensible, too mature, too prim to expect mawkish romance—though she’d been none of those things today. In his arms, she had become a giving, sensual, passionate woman.

  Love is the most important part of a marriage.

  Max stopped pacing. She’d said that to him two days ago, when they’d ridden to the glade. Was that the real reason she’d refused him, then? Because she believed him capable of feeling only lust for her?