In answer, Jonathan reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a handful of coins. Silently, he placed them upon a wooden stool near the hearth.
“Why didn’t you leave with your mother and sisters when the house caught fire?” he asked Victoria.
Her gray eyes met his. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. Perhaps a part of me wanted to die with it.”
The thought disturbed him deeply. He reached out and pulled a pin from her hair, freeing a long lock of burnished gold hair. Then another. One by one, he loosened all the pins until her hair fell below her shoulders. “You’d rather die than be my duchess?”
“That isn’t what I said.” She knelt beside the fire, staring into the flames. “But without you with me, I couldn’t bring myself to go. The smoke was so terrible and the fire so hot…” She lowered her gaze, shivering at the memory. “It was impossible.”
“This isn’t the wedding night I had planned for us,” he said quietly. “But I’m glad we’re both alive.”
She nodded, lifting her eyes to his. Her face turned crimson, but she seemed to gather her courage. “Will you help me undress? There’s something I-I want to show you.”
Chapter Fourteen
HIS HANDS moved to the buttons on the back of her gown. One by one, he opened them, while his mouth descended upon the back of her neck. Victoria was unprepared for the violent shivers that poured through her or the way her body responded to him.
“Satin,” he breathed, running his hands along the laces of her corset. She supposed she could have worn nothing at all beneath the gown, but… she’d wanted to wear one of her own creations. To see if it pleased him.
But instead of turning her around, he let the gown fall against her waist. From behind her, she heard the soft sounds of his own clothing being removed. When she turned to sneak a glimpse, she saw him remove his wedding tailcoat, laying it upon a chair. Then he lifted his shirt over his head.
The sight of his bare chest fascinated her. His golden skin was lean, with a light down of hair between his pectoral muscles. There was not a trace of softness upon him, and when he saw her watching him, his hands reached for the top button of his breeches.
“Wait,” she pleaded, not at all ready for what was to come next. She didn’t know what to expect from him, but she was unprepared for the sight of his body. “You—you might get cold.”
It was a ridiculous thing to say, but she’d blurted it out without thinking. Jonathan’s hand caught hers, and he guided it to touch his chest. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the rapid beating of his heart. The firm muscles reminded her of smooth marble, and without meaning to, she traced the outline of his body, moving lower to his ribs.
“Do I feel cold to you?” he demanded.
She couldn’t answer, for his skin was quite warm. Only when she felt the heat of his mouth against her throat did she admit, “No. You’re not cold at all. But—”
“Don’t be afraid of me.” He reached behind her, lifting away her gown, leaving her to stand in only the satin corset. “Turn around.”
Her breathing was unsteady, but she managed to obey him. In the dim light of the room, she turned slowly, revealing her chemise and corset. His sharp intake of breath was audible. His green eyes centered upon her, drinking in the sight of her bared skin and the creamy wisps of embroidered satin.
“You took my advice, I see.” There was a hunger in his voice as he reached out to the sheer lace that covered her breasts. The touch of his knuckles upon her erect nipples sent a wave of aching between her legs. “I like this very much.”
His hands moved to her back, finding the ties of her corset. “Do you remember what it was like the first night I touched you?”
She couldn’t breathe when he untied the stays, loosening the panels. Yes, she did remember. Such wickedness was a taste of sin itself. But as he caught her mouth with his, she found herself helpless to protest. His mouth was unraveling her senses, pulling her into dark temptation.
“Look at me,” he demanded, framing her face with his hands. She felt so exposed in the firelight, and yet he held her spellbound. “I will never hurt you. Not this night, or beyond it.”
He removed the corset, his green eyes burning into hers as he studied the chemise. With his hands, he cupped her breasts through the lace. But instead of baring her skin, he bent and took one nipple in his mouth.
The sensation of his tongue and the light abrasion of the lace sent a shock of heat through her. His mouth suckled gently, his tongue swirling over the erect tip she could not hide.
“You’re perfect, Victoria,” he breathed. She could do nothing except clutch his head as he bent to the other breast, laving it with his tongue. The contrast of the cold air and the heat of his mouth was deeply erotic, sending a thrill of wetness between her legs. Though her mind was frightened of the raw sensations, her body wanted more.
He lowered the chemise, and this time his hands moved to cup her bare breasts, stroking them until she could not stop the moan that broke from her. “I wanted to touch you like this, from the first time I kissed you. And this time, I don’t intend to stop.”
She dared to touch his chest, her body aching with need. “Are you certain you want to remain wedded to a woman like me?” The words needed to be said, though a thickness rose up in her throat. “You might as well be a prince, and I, a washerwoman.”
“There’s nothing I want more,” he murmured. In the cool air, her skin prickled with gooseflesh. “If I hadn’t come for you, would you have stayed in your room while the house burned?”
She took a breath and regarded him. “Probably.” Though he likely believed that she was mad to risk burning alive rather than go outside, she wanted him to hear the truth. Taking one of his hands in hers, she turned back to face the fire, drawing his arms around her from behind. “I almost died five years ago when we first traveled here.”
Just mentioning that time sent a cool chill over her body. She shivered, and Jonathan drew both arms around her. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
Victoria knew that, and yet, she needed him to understand why she’d retreated from the outside world. Perhaps then, he would realize why she was utterly unprepared to be his duchess.
She leaned against him, and the heat of his body seemed to shelter her. “We were traveling here, from England,” she said. “I was seventeen, and I hated the thought of leaving London. My father wanted us to live here, in Scotland. He never liked the city, and he wanted to be away from his brother. They were always quarreling.”
Especially after their uncle kept falling further into debt. Although her father had been careful with his own funds, his brother had squandered most of the inheritance.
“Since it was doubtful my sisters and I would ever have a Season, I suppose he wanted us to be away from society,” Victoria finished.
Her skin grew icy, as she admitted, “We traveled in two coaches. On each night of the journey, we changed coaches, sometimes to be with my mother and father. We stayed in different inns along the way, and one afternoon, Juliette begged my father to stop. The land around us was beautiful, and she wanted to walk around for a while. He indulged her, and we ate our luncheon outdoors that day.”
Though Jonathan’s arms were around her as she spoke, he never interrupted or asked questions. “It was a beautiful day,” she whispered. “I went walking on my own and somehow, I must have fallen asleep in the sunshine. When I awoke, the coaches were gone. My parents and sisters both thought I was with the other.”
Her skin had turned to ice, but she forced herself to continue speaking of that day. “I was outside for the rest of the day and through the night. I tried to follow the tracks of the coach, hoping they would turn around and find me. But somehow, I went the wrong way. I-I got lost and there were endless green hills and forests around me.”
She closed her eyes, drawing his arms as tightly around her as she could manage it. “I don’t remember when they found me. It must have been sev
eral days.” Even now, she couldn’t forget the aching in her stomach and the stale taste of the water she’d drunk. She’d survived the ordeal, but only just.
“And you never went outside again,” he finished.
“No. I couldn’t.” She turned slightly in his embrace, feeling even more awkward with her chemise around her hips, her upper body bared. “Every time I tried, I remembered how cold and frightened I was. How the days passed until I believed they weren’t ever going to find me.”
“But they did.” He leaned his face against hers. “And I swear to you, I’ll keep you safe. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”
She wanted to believe it. The duke was a strong man, demanding and steadfast in his pride. Because of his confidence, she’d made it this far. But would she have the strength to enter his world and assume all the responsibilities and duties of a duchess? She didn’t know, for the very thought overwhelmed her.
“You’ve forgotten something,” he said. “I won our wager. You did go outside within the fortnight. And you traveled far more than a few steps.”
Though the urge came over her to deny it, she managed to say, “I was afraid I never could.”
He framed her face, forcing her to look at him. “The courage was always there, Victoria.”
She couldn’t quite bring herself to smile, though he was right. She had taken the first steps to free herself from this prison.
“What reward will you claim?” she asked. In answer, he guided the remainder of her clothing off until it pooled upon the floor.
“I’m claiming you, Victoria.”
Tangled thoughts clouded her mind, but Jonathan guided her to lie upon his wool topcoat. His bare chest pressed against her, and she shifted beneath him. The hard length of his arousal pressed against her, as if to remind her that she was now his wife.
“You’re still afraid of me, aren’t you?” He was poised above her, still wearing his breeches.
“No,” she whispered. “But I wish my life could be the way it was. I fear it will never be the same again.”
“You’re angry at me for not telling you the truth.”
“Yes.” By keeping it from her, he’d made her feel like a fool. Her cheeks burned to think of the conversation they’d had when she’d guessed he was nothing more than a baronet. Oh, she’d known he had wealth—but not this.
It was like a fairy tale, with the prince wedding the servant girl and expecting her to somehow transform into a princess. But her fears weren’t going to disappear now that she was a duchess. It might take years before she was comfortable leaving his house, attending a ball where everyone would stare at her. God help her, she didn’t want her weakness to humiliate him.
“I can’t change my title,” Jonathan said, his hands resting on either side of her. “But I’m still the same man who spent those weeks with you.” His hand slid over her bare shoulder, moving over her breast and down to her ribs. As he began to unbutton his trousers, a shiver of anxiety crossed over her. “Try to forget that I’m a duke.”
His hand slid through her hair, drawing it over one shoulder. He traced down the length of it, drawing a silky lock over her breasts.
“I’m going to spend the rest of this night pleasuring you. Until you beg to have me inside you.” His promise, to evoke those feelings of delicious release, sent a wave of warmth flooding through her.
“You belong to me, Victoria. And have, ever since you dared to sew me up with pink thread.”
The sight of her slim body took his breath away. Though he’d coerced her into marriage and they’d had a rough beginning to their life together, Jonathan wasn’t about to let her retreat into herself. He wanted her to kiss him back, damn it all. He wanted her arms around him, their bodies skin to skin.
He kissed her, testing her response. If she truly didn’t want him, she would push him back. Her lips held firm for a moment, before she began to yield. She was returning the kiss, her hands coming up to his face. It pleased him to know that he was the one causing her to arch, to break out in gooseflesh as she surrendered her body to him.
The night he’d touched her so intimately was branded within his mind. Jonathan sensed that there was no way he would ever get enough of touching her. For she had known him as a man, not a duke. She’d revealed her deepest fears to him, and he now fully understood her hatred of the outdoors. It wasn’t about the cold air or the physical environment. It was her fear of being lost and abandoned.
He drew back to study her, while he moved his hand over her ribs to her narrow waist. She averted her eyes, but shifted her legs when he pressed against her.
God above, he wanted to be naked, to feel the soft triangle of hair pressing against his arousal.
In the firelight, her hair held a darker cast. Her breasts were small, less than a handful, but her nipples were a pale pink, inviting him to taste them again. And taste them he would.
She’d closed her eyes again, as if to shut him out. “Look at me,” he demanded. He didn’t want her pretending he wasn’t there, remaining still as if to endure his touch instead of reveling in it. “I want to see what you’re feeling when I touch you.”
Her gray eyes fluttered open, but there was apprehension within them. Even so, he intended to win this challenge. By the time this night was over, he wanted her mindless with ecstasy, her body writhing with need.
He slid his hand down her hip, moving between her legs. Gently, he parted them, though she hesitated to obey. His hand moved to her womanhood, and he cupped her, pressing the heel of his hand against her flesh.
A broken breath caught in her throat, and he moved his hand again, changing the slight friction. He could feel the dampness of her own reaction, though she might protest. As he took one nipple in his mouth, he stroked and caressed her intimately. Her fingers dug into his hair as she shuddered.
“I don’t care what title I might have inherited,” he swore. “The only title that matters right now is husband.”
He slid two fingers into her wetness, asserting his domination. He wanted her slick and hot, needing him desperately. She leaned in to his touch, moving in counterpoint to the thrusts of his hand.
Then, without any warning at all, he withdrew. He let her lie there, her breasts taut and rosy from the way he’d suckled them. She was wet, while she struggled to catch her breath.
She raised up, slowly letting her legs fall open for him. It pleased him to see her this way, but he wanted far more. He rested on his stomach, lifting her bottom with his hands until he guided his tongue to the place where he wanted to penetrate her.
She jolted at his sudden move, crying out as he used his tongue and mouth to arouse her more. Her breathing came in quick gasps, her body straining against him. He increased the pressure against the hooded flesh above her center, and she arched harder. She was so close, he slowed the pace, gently nibbling at her.
“You want me inside you,” he murmured against her slit. “You want to feel me stretching you, until I’ve filled you.”
She gave no answer, her face twisted away. He saw her wild shiver, the glistening arousal upon her sex. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. And yet, she would not speak the word.
His erection was so hard, he didn’t doubt it would be a brutal night unless he could finish inside her.
“I can’t even put my thoughts together,” she pleaded.
He drew back again, waiting for her to grant him permission, to let him join with her.
“Say it,” he ordered.
Instead, she reached for his hand, guiding it back between her legs. She used him to touch her more roughly, and she let out a cry as the release rushed through her. Against his hand, he felt the moisture of her, and he cursed as she shuddered, rubbing his hand against her.
When she had finished, he guided her hand to his breeches, forcing her to touch him. Her expression was languid, but she stroked him through the fabric. He increased the pressure of her hand, and when her hands curled around his length, f
isting him in a rhythm, he lost his own control. His body seized up, a growl emitting from his throat as his own release struck.
She tried to move her hand away, but he trapped it in place. When it was over, he stared at the fire, feeling so angry with himself. This wasn’t at all the sort of night he’d wanted.
“Go and use the bed,” he ordered. “I’ll sleep here on the floor.”
“There’s room for both of us,” she offered. “If you don’t mind sharing.” She was on her knees, trying to put on her chemise. At the sight of her rosy breasts, he suppressed a groan.
“You need your rest tonight. And if I come anywhere near you, I won’t stop touching you.” He didn’t mention that he intended to bring her out of Scotland and back to London in the morning. It would only give her nightmares.
In the end, she walked toward him and drew him down for a single kiss. The gesture undid him, and it took the greatest act of control not to follow her into that bed.
“You’ll be safe here for the night.” Paul Fraser took the reins of the horses, leading them away while Lady Lanfordshire and her daughters entered the duke’s house. He lowered his head against the cold, his brain infuriated by what had happened. But which of the crofters had a reason to start the fire? Why would they risk harming the family who had granted them sanctuary? He didn’t doubt that the Earl of Strathland was somehow involved.
Near the house, he saw Mr. MacKinloch ushering the ladies inside. Though perhaps none of the others had seen, he stared at the man. He’d been gone from the wedding, looking after his sister who was supposedly ill. But since then, he’d heard other talk about the girl.
Before the door closed, he hurried forward and caught up to the man. “We need to talk.”
“I must look after Lady Lanfordshire and her daughters,” Mr. MacKinloch protested. He paled, trying to free himself from Paul’s grasp. It made his guilt even more transparent.
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