by Eva Devon
But she was also burning with need. Need to know what all this pleasure business was. Because as marvelous as his kisses were upon her body, she knew that wasn’t the climax of the pleasure. It was more like a slow burn or the first tendrils of heat when one lights a fire. The true flame had to come later.
As she stared between her thighs, it took a good deal of restraint not to snap her legs shut. No one had seen her there. In fact, only curiosity and a mirror had meant that she had seen herself. It should have been most alarming. It wasn’t. It felt right, letting him see her so vulnerable.
Somehow she knew he wouldn’t betray that vulnerability. Oh, no. He’d reward it.
Proving her point, he bent his head until she could see naught but his dark hair teasing her thighs. She waited, breath caught in her throat for what he was about to do.
The first touch of his tongue caused her to yelp. Her entire body tensed and he grabbed her thighs, wrapping his hands about them, holding her still.
It was ridiculously exciting and shocking. He traced her softly. So softly that she found herself lifting her hips of the bed.
“Y-You’re kissing me there?” she gasped.
A deep, pleased rumble of a laugh was her only answer.
Then he was indeed kissing and licking and before she knew what was occurring he seemed to find some particular spot on her body that she’d had no knowledge of before.
A cry of need wrenched from her lips. It was so wild and stunned her so deeply that she stuffed her fist into her mouth, biting down.
Free she might wish to be, but she didn’t want anyone in the castle hearing her either.
He didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he seemed to increase his efforts, varying the pressure and speed but never relenting from that maddening place.
Her breath came in short rises and falls. She wanted to stare at him and just as she was about to yield to the desire to let her gaze drift to the ceiling, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.
The whole world seemed to explode around her. In all her life she’d never felt anything more powerful than his eyes locked with hers and his mouth upon her body.
She cried out against her hand and suddenly, she couldn’t think or breathe or do anything except hold his gaze. She had to or else the pleasure pulsing through her again and again would send her into a thousand pieces.
Still, he didn’t stop. He teased and stroked until the very last wave of her pleasure had ebbed.
Gently, he kissed the inside of her thigh, then crawled up her body.
Wordless, he stared down at her and stroked her cheek.
The beat of her heart slammed against her ears. This was intimacy. My God, in all her life she’d never known such closeness to a person. He’d taken her somewhere she hadn’t even known existed and she had neither brain, nor breath, to thank him.
“We can stop,” he said gently. “We don’t have to go further.”
His voice was deep and strained.
His offer, she realized was noble, but she lifted her hand to his and turned her face into his palm. Kissing that hand ever so lightly she then whispered, “I don’t want this to ever stop.”
And she didn’t because this was possibly the most beautiful and awakening moment of her life.
Nicholas kissed her. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and she wrapped her arms around him as if she could hold on and never let go.
Somehow it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
Sensing her need, he took one of her hands and guided it down between their bodies.
His breeches were undone and she touched hot, hard male.
She didn’t even know what to call it. She knew what it was and what it was for. But before she had sense to think, he was positioning himself at her entry. Her fingers touched right where they were almost joined.
He seemed to hesitate and she realized he was waiting for her to fully give him permission. She’d given him words. Now, it was time for action.
She moved her hand away and hooked a leg over his hip, urging him closer.
Nicholas groaned and rubbed the tip of his shaft up and down along her wet heat. It was delicious and maddening at once.
He thrust forward and her eyes widened.
It was the strangest feeling she’d ever known. Pressure. There was far too much pressure.
He paused.
She shook her head and lifted her other leg, now hooking them about his back, determined that he should continue.
Rocking against her, Nicholas eased deeper.
It hurt. Her entire body felt stretched but then in one deep penetration he pushed through. Her body released its tension and what had begun to feel like pain began to feel like pleasure as he thrust in and out of her body in a slow rhythm.
He cupped her face with his hands and rocked forward.
That wild feeling she’d just known began to build again and once again, she found her gaze locked with his. She’d never seen such intensity on a face as she saw on his now.
She bit down on her lower lip, shocked by how different this was than her pleasure before, how much better this was. They were joined and it was beyond imagining.
As his movements deepened and her body began to move in harmony with his, he placed a hand between their bodies and stroked her in that spot he’d found before.
Again, her world shatter as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. With one final deep thrust, Nicholas let out a wild groan.
Slowly, they both stilled.
Her body felt liquid and perfect.
She held him against her chest and, for once, she felt as if it was she who was taking care of him. It was a bizarre and wonderful feeling.
In all her life, she’d never imagined taking care of a big, powerful man like Nicholas. She’d never imagined a man such as that would allow it, let alone wish it. Yet here they were, her arms around him, his face pressed gently against her chest, now that he’d collapsed down on top of her and the bed. She smiled. If she’d been at all afraid of the unknown that taking Nicholas to lover would bring, she wasn’t now. Whatever was to arise would be marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.
Chapter 11
Holding his breath, he slid his arm out from under his Alfred’s neck. As soon as he was free, he stared at the stone wall of his turret room and felt the terrifying echo of his own thoughts boom in his head. His Alfred.
When the hell had that happened? Why the hell had it happened?
The stone wall blurred as the terror set in. His. Alfred. And he meant it. Something deep inside him was absolutely bound and determined that she belonged to him. It might have something to do with their night together, but he’d never before felt such an incredible emotion after a night with a woman. Usually, he was pleased to kiss his lover and sally forth into the world. Pleased, of course, but mostly unchanged.
This dawn he felt as if he were Magellan, discovering new worlds entirely.
In fact, whatever the hell had seized his wits was also demanding that he get out of bed, wrap Alfred in swaths of linen and demand to know what the Devil had possessed her to trust someone like him?
He’d damn well manipulated her into being his servant and into staying in his chamber. No matter what she might say, he’d seduced her in the beginning. He’d arranged this whole thing and why? Because he’d needed some amusement? Because she’d intrigued him?
What kind of man did that?
A blackguard. That’s what kind.
If he could have, he’d have called himself out on the spot for being a despoiler of innocents and selfish beyond compare.
Fighting a groan, he quietly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed advice and there was only one place that he was going to be able to get it.
He also wanted to ensure Alfred had a good breakfast. Someone had to take care of his young woman. Clearly, no one else was. He wanted to throttle whoever previously had her in their responsibility. Whoever they were, they’d utterly failed in protecting her.
He glanced at her sleeping form. Her entire body seemed to emanate relaxed contentment and no sign that she would awaken any time soon. Still, he didn’t want to be gone overly long. If he could, he would be back before she’d had a chance to awaken.
Making as little noise as possible, he slipped his clothes on and headed down toward the kitchen.
It had been bloody difficult when he was five, cut off from anyone who would tell him what was what. Not many people had the guts to tell him the truth, not even the other dukes in the Dukes Club. They all ribbed each other, raised hell, and pontificated on the ills of society but they were all careful not to point out their fellow peer’s shortcomings. Stones and glass houses and all that.
So, there was really only one person for it.
As he strode down the long hallway, he had a sinking feeling Mrs. T was going to be most disappointed in him.
Thank God the poor woman wasn’t Catholic. If she had been, she never would have gotten up from her knees with all the praying for his soul she would have had to do.
He headed for the panel at the end of the hall, pressed a leaf in the carved woodwork, and the hidden door swung open revealing a spiral stair. He took the servant’s steps quickly, used to the steep, winding descent.
At last, he came out just behind the kitchen and strode into the long hall, clamoring with the bangs of pots and pans and kitchen staff going about the daily business of making food for dozens of people.
Mrs. Thackery stood whisking something briskly in a large bowl. Her silver hair was tucked neatly under her perfectly starched white cap. She was speaking to a young undercook, no doubt, instructing her in the importance of a firm wrist.
Once, as a boy, he’d come to the kitchens as often as possible and Mrs. T had taught him several things. He was no foolish male that couldn’t boil a pot of water. Not only could he boil water, he could make a perfectly light and flaky pastry. This was something that no one besides Mrs. T and his kitchen staff knew. God only could imagine what the dukes would have thought of his culinary skills.
“Mrs. Thackery,” he called, half feeling a boy again, afraid to tell her he’d been sent down from Eton.
She immediately snapped her gaze away from the young woman and a warm smile tilted her wrinkled face. “Your Grace!” she exclaimed with pleasure. “You’re up quite early this morning. Off for a ride?”
“No, Mrs. Thackery. I need a moment of your time.”
Her silvery brows drew together in momentary distress as she eyed the mixture in her bowl. The timing of cooking was exact but then she gave a nod and handed her accoutrement to her helper.
She wiped her hands on her apron. “Tea?”
Tea. Tea solved everything, so claimed Mrs. Thackery. On the day his parents had died, she’d had a look of a kindly dragon as she’d dispensed tea into a cup for him. It had been the first time he’d ever had the beverage and she’d said gravely that such an occasion warranted him drinking such an adult drink because tea healed the soul in a way milk simply could not do.
Ever since, he’d loved the brewed leaf. But he had a feeling tea wasn’t going to soften Mrs. Thackery’s disapproval or make him feel at ease with his present circumstances. “No. Just a chat.”
“My office then.” She marched off toward the hall, her skirts whipping behind her.
He followed. Unsure as only she could make him. But he cherished that feeling. She was the only person he could be entirely honest with.
As soon as they were safely ensconced in her small, but cozy office, she shut the door firmly behind them.
Her smile had dimmed and a worried expression creased the fine lines of her forehead. “It’s about Alfred, isn’t it?”
He gaped. “Have you taken to reading the tea leaves you spoon out?”
She tsked. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been thinking on it all night and this morning.” She folded her worn hands. “You know, don’t you?”
Nicholas winced, but he wasn’t quite ready to expose Alfred if what he supposedly knew wasn’t what Mrs. Thackery knew. “Can you be more specific?”
“Specific?” she huffed. “I ought to deny you sweets for a year. You knew Alfie wasn’t what. . . You do know, don’t you?”
He sighed. “That he is a she?”
She pinned him with a disappointed stare. “Indeed, Nicky.”
The use of the intimate version of his first name told him he was in for it. She only called him Nicky when exceptionally irritated or feeling very affectionate.
“How could you do it, my boy?” she asked, her voice low with recrimination.
“I don’t quite know,” he confessed. “It was meant to just be a diversion. A bit of fun. . .”
Mrs. Thackery frowned. “I know you’re a man, but I had thought you more honorable than that.”
It was true. Usually he was. He didn’t despoil debutants or ruin people’s lives. He was far from a saint, enjoying pleasure as often as he may, but he didn’t hurt people. Somehow, Alfred had awoken in him a willingness to do anything to have what he wanted.
Suddenly, he was quite disgusted with himself. “It got out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” she echoed. “You’ve taken that young lady into your room. You’ve slept together in the same chamber. You’ve been alone with her. She’s ruined.”
“Only if someone finds out.”
“Finds out?” She threw up her hands then smacked them against her apron as she stared him down. “Everyone knows!”
He blinked. He hadn’t considered that his young lady’s ruse might be entirely ineffectual. “That Alfred is, well, not an Alfred?”
“For a supposedly intelligent and high and mighty duke, you are acting the dunce. If I was able to deduce it and you were, how many others might have their suspicions? And the servant’s hall is agog with your latest project. I warned you not to take her as your personal servant.”
He scowled, unwilling to be entirely taken to task. “But you didn’t say why. You simply said, ‘leave Alfie in the stables’. I do believe those were your exact words.”
“I was trying to protect you both. From what you tell me now, you may have already known. You never would have asked Alfie to be your servant if she’d been a he, now would you?”
He folded his arms over his chest, tempted to deny it, but he couldn’t. The moment he started lying to Mrs. Thackery was the day he was an entirely lost cause.
“Fine. I knew,” he admitted. “She fascinated me.”
“So, you felt it perfectly acceptable to ruin a young woman for your own amusement?”
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, feeling another wave of self-disgust. “No. Not exactly. I didn’t think beyond the moment, if you must know.”
In truth, there were things that he did away from Rothton that he never gave a second thought about. After all, Mrs. Thackery would never know about them. This time. . . This time, he’d made a damned muddle. “Look, I know I’ve done wrong but Alfred is not a child. She knew the risks of her situation.”
Mrs. Thackery folded her arms over her pressed, white apron. “And you took advantage.”
“I know,” he said so quietly, he wondered if he’d actually spoken.
Mrs. Thackery narrowed her eyes. “You do.”
He looked askance. He felt guilt for maneuvering her into close quarters with him but once she’d known he knew her true sex, he had not done anything she hadn’t wished. In fact, she’d downright demanded.
Nicholas refused to feel guilt on that score. Somehow, he felt that he’d done the right thing there. But now, he had to keep doing the right thing.
“It was what she wished,” he finally admitted, shocked he could say such a thing to the woman who had raised him.
An exasperated cry burst from Mrs. Thackery’s lips and she threw her arms into the air. “It doesn’t matter if she did or didn’t wish it. She’s ruined. However, I am glad to hear you’re not an entire rogue.”
“Just a bit of one?” he tease
d, hating that Mrs. Thackery was saying what he already knew. He’d made a dreaded error with Alfred. No matter what, she was ruined. . . The simple act of keeping a lady in a room alone with himself meant such a thing. And he didn’t ruin young maidens. It was simply beyond the pale. Even for the likes of him. And there was something else driving his actions. In all his life, he’d never been drawn to a single soul the way he was drawn to Alfred.
“Oh, Nicky, you can’t keep going on like this. It’s making you dreadfully unhappy.”
He was silent for a long moment. “I quite like my life.”
“Do you?” she challenged. “Then why are you here now? Discussing your rotten behavior with me? I am not your conscience.”
A sad smile tilted his lips. “Aren’t you?”
“No.” She dropped her hands to her sides but there was no air of defeat about her stoic person. “You already know what must be done.”
“What if she’s the daughter of a baker?” he asked, just for good measure, wondering if Mrs. T would follow him in his new determination.
Mrs. Thackery arched a silvery brow. “That one? Hardly.”
“You never should have let me take her up to my chambers,” he said, but a rueful smile was playing at his mouth now. Truth be told, he was damned glad she had said nothing because it meant that, finally, a certain aspect of his life was to be settled.
“Let, my boy? When have I ever let you do anything? You wanted this and now you have it. Either do the right thing or don’t. But know if you do the wrong thing, I shall be deeply disappointed and despairing of you.”
“The wrong thing?” he quipped. He’d been doing the wrong thing for ages but he could well and truly say he’d never done irreparable damage to anyone. Ruining a young woman would end that. And when it came to Alfred, he knew he’d never do the wrong thing again. She was simply too remarkable.
He waggled his brows at Mrs. T. “And be denied your pastries from now until death?”
“Do be serious,” she sighed.
“Well, then,” he said, amazed how his life had changed so quickly and all from one impulsive act. “I suppose we should prepare the staff for the future duchess.”