Her breath came in gasps, and his tongue drew its own rhythm over her body. She didn’t want this slow burn, not when it was driving her past the brink of sanity.
Tell him what you want, her mind ordered, though she faltered at the fear of what he would think of her. The longer he tormented her, the more frantic her body became.
“Please, I need—” Her words broke off, as she reached for his face. He stopped instantly, brushing a kiss against her thigh.
“What do you need?”
She tried to guide him higher, and he balanced his weight upon his forearms, his face still resting against her stomach. There was wariness in his eyes, and she had no idea how to ask for what she wanted.
“Show me.” His voice was gruff, and she took his hand and guided it between her legs. He found the rhythm immediately, and she arched against him, her body throbbing as she grew closer to release. Without knowing why, she began to touch her own breasts, and it only intensified the movement of his hand.
The aching unfolded inside her as he kept up the rhythmic stroking. She felt herself reaching harder, needing more.
“Take it, Victoria,” he breathed against her skin. “Let me give this to you.”
The fiery release struck her in a shuddering eruption, and she couldn’t stop the cry that she released. Jonathan covered her mouth with his, and guided himself to her slick center.
When he hesitated, she eased herself against him, pulling his hips forward. His rigid erection slid within her wetness with a friction that made her gasp. Although it took a moment for her body to adjust, there was no pain this time.
He remained inside her, watching. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, opening her eyes. “Don’t stop.”
This time, he moved slowly. He withdrew and penetrated again, making her gasp at the wave of pleasure that struck. “Again?”
“Again.” The rhythm of his thrusts was both a surrender and a conquest. She took him into her body, lifting her knees to grant him deeper access. And when she kissed him hard, sliding her tongue into his mouth, he let go of his control.
He took her mouth like a ruthless warrior, echoing the plunge of his body with his tongue. She felt the barriers crack apart as he joined with her, his pace relentless. Another fist of pleasure struck her hard, and she moaned when he pumped inside her. He never ceased his tempo, pressing harder, and her hands came up between them, helpless to do anything except drown in the fierce pleasure that filled every part of her body.
Jonathan withdrew and changed her position. He pulled her to the edge of the bed, rolling her onto her stomach. She lay upon the sheets, her backside facing him, while her legs touched the carpet. His hands came up beneath her pelvis, cantilevering her hips up until he plunged inside her wet depths. Having him enter her from the new position was staggering, and his hands filled with her breasts as he quickened his pace. Her fists dug into the covers as he took her roughly, his hot length penetrating over and over.
Victoria couldn’t stop the cry that released from her as he took his pleasure, and when at last he was spent inside her, she shuddered with aftershocks.
She had never experienced such madness in all her life. Her body was deliciously used, and he pulled her to him, his heartbeat pulsing fast as he lay atop her. Without speaking, she sensed the thoughts that tormented him. Softly, she kissed his mouth, touching his hair.
It’s not your fault.
His body was tense, his head lowered. But he wouldn’t look at her, nor would he speak.
Jonathan left in the middle of the night. He dressed quietly and walked downstairs, the darkness encompassing his mood. He felt exposed by the way Victoria made him feel. Touching her had become an addiction, and he doubted if he’d ever be able to stop.
With every moment he spent at her side, he felt his control slipping away. The carnal needs had superseded his sense of reason, and he was afraid of what was happening to him. Victoria was ripping apart his expectations, weakening his willpower.
He stood by the window of the library, staring out into the midnight darkness. He’d wanted his marriage with Victoria to be based upon mutual respect and his ability to provide for her. But instead, his mind was consumed with images of this night, of being so close to her, their bodies were merged into one. Her yielding flesh had accepted his, and her shudders of ecstasy haunted him with the desire to return to her at this moment. He wanted to spend his nights watching her arch her back and sigh with pleasure.
He wanted to love her. And he wanted her to love him back. But when he was with Victoria, he lost command of himself. His lovemaking tonight had held a violent edge, a possessive need that he didn’t understand. The feelings he held for his wife were too strong, too unpredictable.
He lit a taper and sat at his desk. His footman had brought the post earlier, and he’d ignored most of it. But when he eyed it again, he saw a letter from the Earl of Strathland. In it, the man denied any involvement in the fire, and he promised to question the crofters to learn who was responsible and sentence the guilty parties.
It wasn’t Strathland’s place to do so. The clans had been invited to lease the land at Eiloch Hill, and the earl had no authority there. If he brought his factor there, he was blatantly trespassing. And Victoria’s parents would be caught in the middle of it.
The last time he’d ignored danger, his family had died. And though he didn’t want to leave his wife, he owed it to her to protect her mother.
And that meant returning to Scotland.
Colonel Henry Andrews, Baron Lanfordshire, trudged through the snow and stared at the half-built house before him. He’d traveled hundreds of miles to come home, hoping for a glimpse of his wife and daughters. Instead, it appeared that a fire had ravaged the structure.
Cold fear iced through him at the thought of his family suffering. He hastened his pace, and a slight note of relief eased him when he saw his wife, Beatrice, carrying a pile of charred wood outside one of the doors.
Her blond hair held glints of gray, and she was more slender than he’d ever seen her. But God above, he wished he could run across the yard and take her in his arms. He wanted to hold tightly to the woman who had stood by him all these years, to breathe in the warm scent of her and forget about the harsh memories of war.
But he wasn’t a young man of twenty, and he’d sensed a coldness in her letters. He didn’t know what she felt for him, if anything. Although he wanted to mend the breach, he’d never been a man who could say the right things at the right moment.
He watched her for a moment, taking in the sight of her profile. Still beautiful, after all these years. He took another step, waiting for her to see him. She turned at the slight sound, and the burned wood in her hands went crashing to the ground. Her hands flew to her mouth in shock, but she didn’t move.
Henry waited for some sign that she was glad to see him, but there was nothing except the flush of surprise upon her face. He shuttered his own disappointment and closed the distance between them. Though he wanted to embrace her, his arm was bandaged in a sling.
Would she show some sign of joy that he’d returned? His heart beat faster, waiting for something… anything.
“Beatrice,” he said, nodding to her. It was the only word he could manage, but it didn’t capture any of the words inside him. It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.
“Henry.” She nodded in return and wiped her hands upon the apron she was wearing. It surprised him to see her dressed almost like a servant. Once, she had prided herself in wearing lovely gowns of all different colors. But despite the serviceable dark blue wool, it didn’t diminish her looks. “It’s been a long time.”
He kept waiting for some sign that she wanted him to embrace her, but she kept her hands at her sides as if she weren’t truly glad to see him. “It has” was all he could manage.
Glancing up at the charred roof and the stone walls, he asked, “What happened to our home?”
“Someone set fire to it a few weeks
ago.” She lifted her chin and nodded at the crofters, who were carrying out the debris from inside. “I wrote to you, but I suppose you never got the letter. We’re still in the process of rebuilding.”
“And the girls?”
She softened at his mention of them. “They’re fine, and all of them are staying in London. Victoria got married a few weeks ago, to the Duke of Worthingstone.”
Had his wife told him that Victoria had sprouted wings and flown, he’d not have been more surprised. “A duke? For our Victoria?” Ever since his daughter had been lost, he’d seen her retreat within the four walls, no longer the quietly mischievous girl she’d been. So much had changed.
A genuine smile spread over Beatrice’s face. “It was a shock to me, too. I never dreamed she would ever find a husband at all, much less a duke.”
He wanted to tell her how good it was to see her smile, that he didn’t care anything about the house, so long as his family was safe. But the words wouldn’t come, trapped beneath years of his own awkwardness.
“I’ve missed a great deal, it seems.” And though he’d written a handful of letters, there had been little time to write more than a few words. The fighting in Spain had occupied most of his time, and when he’d had a spare moment to write, he’d never known quite what to say.
There was a sheen of brightness in his wife’s eyes, and she was holding back tears. “You have, yes.” She touched the front door as if she wanted to leave his presence, and the harsh ache of loneliness swelled within him.
“There’s a lot of damage inside,” she admitted. “I’ve been living at Eiloch Hill for the past fortnight, but I believe the roof is sound now.” She opened the door, continuing to talk about who they believed might have started the fire and how long it would take to restore the rooms and the furnishings.
He didn’t hear a word of it. All he could do was stare at his wife, memorizing her features.
“Henry?” she asked, pausing at the doorway to the parlor. “Are you all right? Does your arm pain you?”
He wanted to say so much to her, to ask a thousand questions and somehow make her realize that he did still love her, even after so many years apart. But in the end, his reticence made it impossible to do anything except shake his head. “It’s nothing.”
He reached out to take her hand, but at the same moment, she turned away to lead him to another part of the house. For a moment, he kept his hand motionless, frozen in midair. But she didn’t turn around.
In the end, he lowered his hand, swallowing back the regrets and vowing that he would somehow make things right between them.
“Your Grace.” Brandon Carlisle, the Earl of Strathland, entered the drawing room at Eiloch Hill where the Duke of Worthingstone awaited him with his other guests. “Colonel Lord Lanfordshire,” he greeted, “and Lady Lanfordshire.” He bowed to them in greeting, before sitting across from them.
Though he kept a friendly smile on his face, he knew the purpose for this gathering—to confront him. He didn’t delude himself into imagining it was for social reasons.
“I was flattered to receive this invitation,” Brandon said, thanking the maid who poured him a cup of tea. “It’s kind of you to think of a neighbor.”
Lady Lanfordshire’s face was strained. “We have some matters to discuss.”
“Some of your men tried to question the crofters,” the duke began. “But trespassers are not welcome on my property.”
“The Scots were my tenants for years. I know them better than anyone, and I thought it best to investigate the fire. You would not want a criminal dwelling among you.”
“I will do my own investigation,” the duke finished.
Brandon sipped at his tea and changed tactics. “Have you thought about my offer, Lady Lanfordshire?”
At Colonel Lord Lanfordshire’s frown, he elaborated. “I’ve offered to buy your land on several occasions.”
“It’s not for sale,” the Colonel responded.
Brandon had expected that and was ready with his proposal. “I’ve increased the herds of sheep, and they need more land for grazing. I’m sure you know how much the cost of wool has risen in the past few years. But I’ve thought of another alternative that might serve as a way of keeping the land within your family.”
He set his teacup down, adding, “You have three unmarried daughters. I am widowed, and I could easily provide for any one of them. Your grandchildren could inherit this land, thereby combining our holdings. Both of you could relocate to your house in London or another estate.”
From the shocked expression on Lady Lanfordshire’s face, she hadn’t anticipated the offer. “But the girls—”
“The girls will marry men of their choosing,” the Duke of Worthingstone interrupted. “I will sponsor each of them for a Season. They deserve better than to be traded for sheep.”
Strathland bit back a laugh. “I was not implying that, not in the least. But I have developed an affection for your younger daughter, Miss Juliette Andrews. Perhaps I could come to London and court her, along with her other suitors. She would have the choice of whether or not to accept me, of course. But it would be a solution for all of us.”
“No.” The duke’s answer was final, and he sent Brandon a look of his own. “I invited you here to be sure you understand my point. The lands at Eiloch Hill and at Ballaloch are not yours. Nor will you send your factor or any of your men to threaten our families or the crofters who have been granted permission to build their homes here.”
His autocratic airs irritated Brandon. Though outwardly he inclined his head in silent acquiescence, he wasn’t about to abandon his goal to achieve control over the western Highlands.
“Keep to your own lands, and our families can live in peace,” Worthingstone said, “or you will not like the financial consequences.”
In other words, Submit to my authority and do not dare to rise against me, Strathland thought. He understood the duke’s point perfectly, but it didn’t mean he intended to obey.
Every man had a price. Even Worthingstone.
Chapter Nineteen
SPRING 1811
“YOU CANNOT keep refusing invitations,” Lady Rumford remarked at luncheon. “Just because the duke is away doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go out and enjoy yourself. I would be glad to help you, should you desire to try it.”
Though Victoria appreciated the offer, the idea wasn’t at all appealing. “I accept my aunt Charlotte’s invitations, and it’s enough for me. But thank you, Lady Rumford.”
“I’m certain it pleases Charlotte. And because you’ve become so mysterious, everyone wants an invitation to her parties.”
“Which benefits my sisters,” Victoria pointed out. “The rest doesn’t matter.”
“Well, of course it matters.” Melanie straightened and slid her fork into an oyster. The strong scent made Victoria’s stomach wrench, and she swallowed hard. “With your husband gone, it’s your duty to be the duchess in his absence. Not to hide away in your rooms.”
Victoria couldn’t reply, for a wave of nausea passed over her. She hadn’t intentionally stayed away, but she’d grown so tired as of late. Though she’d managed to avoid most of the parties, since there were fewer of them in winter, now that it was spring, it was all changing. Already her sisters Margaret and Juliette had been presented at Court and would make their official debut.
But now, she had another reason to remain in seclusion.
“Has your husband written to you at all?” Melanie asked gently.
Victoria shook her head. He’d left her the night after he’d made love to her, and in the morning he was gone. There was only a note explaining that he’d gone to supervise the rebuilding of her mother’s house. She didn’t know when he would return or why he’d left.
You should go back, her heart warned. But the thought of journeying alone to Scotland was overwhelming. She forced herself to walk outside each day, and though it was easier, the fear was still there. The only reason she’d made it to
London was because she’d never let go of Jonathan.
Lady Rumford took another bite of oysters, and the scent was enough to send Victoria running. It was a sickening odor, cloying until she felt the bile rise in her throat. When she reached the stairs, the room spun, and she had to sit down to fight the dizziness.
“My dear, you look frightful.” Lady Rumford had hurried after her, the worry evident on her face. “Are you unwell?”
Victoria kept her head down, trying to keep herself from fainting. “I will be all right in a moment.” There was a roaring in her ears, and she added, “It was the smell of the oysters.”
Her husband’s aunt suddenly gasped. “Oh my. Oh my, oh my. You’re going to have a baby, aren’t you?”
“I think so, yes.” She’d missed her monthly ever since Jonathan’s departure, and all the symptoms were there. Though she hadn’t consulted a doctor, she felt certain it was true.
“Why, that’s such wonderful news!” Lady Rumford came to sit beside her on the stairs, patting her hair. “And so soon after your marriage bodes well for many children. I’d say this one will be born in the autumn, don’t you think?”
If I survive that long. Victoria swallowed back the sickness and managed to lift her head. “I hope the duke returns before then.”
Though she was both terrified and thrilled to be having a child, the months without Jonathan had been miserable. Her only consolation had been burying herself in designs for the undergarments. She’d sent the sketches to Mr. Sinclair, who had taken them to the crofters and brought her vision into reality.
Aphrodite’s Unmentionables had become a wondrous success, and Victoria was more careful than ever to maintain secrecy. It was enough that the crofters’ wives had work, and they were slowly earning their own fortunes.
She needed nothing for herself, but through the duke’s generosity, she’d begun a charity project of her own. Although the Poor Laws had provided aid to those who could not take care of their children, she’d made arrangements with a local parish to provide special assistance to women—particularly those whose husbands were cruel to them.
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