Duke I’d Like to F…

by Sierra Simone

  “Do not move, Mademoiselle Employer,” he replied, strolling past her toward the kitchen.

  “Good gracious,” she blurted. “That backside. You are equally impressive advancing or retreating.”

  Jasper snorted with laughter as he returned and placed several wrapped items on the bed. “Why thank you. Same to you, although I’ll never look as good in spectacles, alas. What would you care to eat?”

  “An almond pastry to start,” said Ada, suddenly ravenous.

  While he ate the bread and butter, she made a mess devouring two delicious flaky pastries and a glass of wine, but the ripe peach was also irresistible.

  When she bit into it and juice sprayed across her bare breasts, she groaned in dismay at her clumsiness. Until she saw Jasper staring at her with undisguised hunger once again.

  Ada put down her wine glass and tentatively cupped her breasts. “Hmmm. I need a man experienced in cleaning. Perhaps you might know of someone?”

  “I may,” he said, collecting a drop of peach juice with a finger. “Do you have time? Don’t want anyone sending out a search party for you.”

  “I have all afternoon,” Ada whispered, although now that sounded disappointingly short. She offered the fruit to Jasper, whimpering as he trailed it across her breasts and anointed each nipple with juice.

  “Good. I can be thorough,” he replied, slowly dragging his tongue across one taut, sticky peak.

  But even as she reveled in the sensation, the part of her brain still capable of rational thought sounded a warning. Ruth and Martha had spoken of this, the danger of emotions tangling with lust.

  This was a one-month contract. Nothing more.

  She absolutely could not fall for her hired duke.

  Chapter Four

  He’d not seen Ada in three days.

  Three bloody days!

  Jasper refrained from scowling at the looking glass only because his valet was in the process of shaving him, and he preferred a smooth rather than hen-pecked chin.

  God knew he and Ada had tried to meet after that lusty and incredibly satisfying afternoon in the cottage that would remain imprinted in his brain forever. But the following day, her father had decided every rug in the vicarage required cleaning, and the day after that, he’d insisted she accompany him to a parish meeting to discuss road maintenance, charitable efforts, and the election of a new churchwarden. Thankfully the vicar could not prevent them seeing each other today to arrange a second tryst; it was the August fifth fair in Cheltenham, one of four each year, and St. Mary’s would have a stall selling lemonade, preserves, and baked goods.

  No one would question his presence. In fact, they would applaud the major landowner in the area buying goods from local farmers and merchants. As long as he could avoid any matchmaking mamas and their daughters. Or worse, the fervent members of the Cheltenham Pigeon Appreciation Society, who believed the birds had not been adequately recognized for discovering the famous Royal Well and deserved a ten-foot bronze statue in the town square.

  “How is that, Your Grace?”

  Jasper rubbed a hand across his jaw and nodded at his valet. “Exemplary, as usual.”

  “And your clothing choice for the fair?”

  For the first time in his life, he hesitated. Usually he muttered something like “blue” or “black”, and his valet raced between dressing room to armoire to create an ensemble. But his attire seemed to matter more than usual. “Let me see…”

  His valet’s eye’s widened. “Your Grace? Is something amiss?”

  Jasper nearly snorted. Anyone who had known him longer than a week would say yes. Making a bed, dusting, and permitting a vicar’s daughter to hire him for fucking were hardly run-of-the-mill activities. “Not at all. Er…brown.”

  Ada’s eyes were brown.

  He gritted his teeth. One afternoon in an abandoned cottage, and he’d lost his damned mind. Yes, it had been spectacular bedsport and he needed more without delay, but that was no excuse for his increasingly unhinged behavior. Hell, he’d nearly hugged Ada when she had become tearful after coming so hard. Tristan and Tabitha hugged. The Duke of Gilroy did not. That was a degree of softness, of intimacy, that he would never be comfortable with. He was too much his father’s son for that.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Jasper said brusquely. “Hunter-green jacket and black trousers.”

  “Very good, Your Grace.”

  Once dressed, he called for his carriage and was soon on his way to town. As always when traveling in the area, Jasper leaned forward and admired the rolling landscape as it flew by. No scenery could compare to this; there was just so much space, and only in heaven could the pasture be richer or greener. Everyone knew the finest beef, mutton, wool, and game in England came from Gloucestershire; indeed, today’s fair would see a great deal of money change hands as farmers sold fat cattle and lambs, and tinkers hawked their goods.

  When his carriage approached Cheltenham High Street an hour later, it slowed to a crawl. Hundreds of people had gathered for the fair, and already there were wooden stalls selling food and wares, animal pens, a pavilion for musicians, and a temporary stage for dancing and puppet shows. Understanding it would be infinitely quicker to walk, and eager to stretch his legs, Jasper tapped on the carriage roof to bring it to a halt. His driver would proceed to a popular spot for gentry vehicles in a wide avenue nearby before settling in to play cards and eat pasties with the other drivers.

  Jasper stepped out of the carriage and absorbed the activity around him. The air was alive with excited chatter and applause, loud bargaining, restless cattle and sheep, and musicians tuning their instruments. He walked on, nodding in greeting as men doffed their hats and women curtsied, knowing as soon as he passed by the townspeople would be whispering about him. While he was held in high esteem as a landlord and employer, they tutted rather pointedly over his bachelor status.

  Well. Everyone except Ada.

  “Good morning, Your Grace!”

  Jasper turned at the feminine hails and smiled at the sight of Ada’s friends Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch. They had done him several great services after all, assisting Ada in her quest and acting as note messengers between them.

  “Ladies,” he said warmly. “How are you this fine day?”

  Miss Lacey grinned. “Faring well at the fair. We’ve been watching a troupe of Londoners perform tricks on horseback. My word, such talent! If I attempted to stand up, or lean down and fetch a sack, I would be on my backside in the dust, wailing for a physician. But we’ve also contributed to the local economy; I sampled a great deal of wine, and Martha purchased enough red and white ribbon to circle the cottage thrice.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he replied. “I also have purchases to make.”

  “Have you just arrived?” asked Miss Kinloch, stepping closer to avoid a passel of shrieking children with sticks of toffee in their hands. “We were helping Ada at the St. Mary’s stall, but there was a lull in customers, so she told us to take a stroll.”

  “Yes, I’ve been here ten minutes or so. Is Miss Blair…well?”

  Miss Lacey smirked. “Quite well several times over, apparently. I salute the effort.”

  He somehow stifled a laugh. While Ada’s own household might be rather miserable, it was easy to see who encouraged the hidden streak of pert minx in her. “One can only strive.”

  “Indeed,” said Miss Kinloch merrily. “But you won’t have had time to donate to St. Mary’s yet. Why don’t you accompany us back to the stall, Your Grace?”

  “You’ll find exactly what you’ve been seeking,” added Miss Lacey. “A nice, tall, refreshing…glass of lemonade.”

  Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Bold.”

  “As sin,” she replied with a wink. “By the by, if you walk with a sweet old lady on each arm, far less chance of being accosted by young misses with suspiciously weak ankles.”

  “A clever plan. If only I could find some sweet old ladies…”

  Miss Kinloch giggled. “Naught
y man. Come along, Your Grace, and loosen those purse strings. There is a cart up ahead with the finest apple tarts in the county; we’ll need sustenance to find our stall, as it is way down the other end of High Street.”

  “It would be my honor,” Jasper replied, offering each woman an arm.

  In truth while he liked them both, far more importantly, they seemed to like him and had proven steadfast in their assistance. Even today, offering to escort him back to the stall. If he walked straight up to Ada by himself it would cause gossip or catch the eye of her dastardly father, but with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch accompanying him, all small-town proprieties were being observed.

  He needed to arrange a second tryst with Ada. Those stolen hours in the cottage hadn’t been nearly enough for his recently neglected cock. Logic also promised that once he’d had her several more times and the novelty of fucking a tall, plump, innocently bold minx wore off, all his bizarre thoughts and behaviors would cease and he would return to his old self. He didn’t actually require more than bedding from a woman; he just had months of unspent lust to slake.

  Pleased and relieved he had a watertight plan to proceed, Jasper relaxed.

  It was time to enjoy the fair.

  “Where are those jars of preserves I told you to fetch? Good heavens, girl. Your head is away in the clouds today. A son wouldn’t be so much trouble.”

  As always with her father, Ada kept smiling even when she wanted to hurl something and unleash several choice words. Of course, the moment she’d sent Ruth and Martha away to see the sights of the fair, half of Cheltenham decided they wanted a jar of berry preserves or marmalade, and the other half wanted a cool glass of lemonade to ease the late summer heat. While the money would boost the church coffers, she’d been run quite ragged, and her father reprimanding her every few minutes for even the slightest infraction did not help. Nor did talking to every man in the county except the one she wanted most to see.

  “I’ll get them now, Father,” Ada replied, turning away from the temporary stall they’d constructed of three long wooden trestle tables and retreating into the tiny white canvas tent where they were storing their remaining supplies. But her hands were clumsy, and she halted for a moment to calm her agitation.

  Had an estate emergency prevented Jasper attending the fair? Was he injured, or ill? Her mind couldn’t help leaping to the worst possible reason, for the brief unsigned note she’d received in his distinctive handwriting stated he would be here. And he’d proven to be a man of his word.

  Not knowing was a torment. She needed to see Jasper.

  Apart from Ruth and Martha, he was the only person she didn’t have to pretend with. In his company she could laugh, be bawdy, and eat what she wanted, and now she’d had a taste of pure pleasure to boot, her body craved him as much as her spirit did. How utterly frustrating for her father to have unwittingly wrecked their plans twice. She was a woman requiring orgasms, blast it all!

  Scowling in annoyance—something she could do only when alone—Ada wiped the perspiration from her brow with a linen handkerchief from her reticule. Next, she began loading the tray with full jars of raspberry jam and orange marmalade, all made and donated by St. Mary’s parishioners. They had long since sold all the cakes and pies, and only had two jugs of lemonade remaining, so she had fond hopes of being able to stop soon for a rest or perhaps to even stroll the High Street.

  Voices outside the tent made her pause.

  “Reverend Blair! We bring a most illustrious guest to sample our church’s far superior lemonade. Are you acquainted with His Grace, the Duke of Gilroy?”

  “Not personally,” said her father coolly. “I understand, Your Grace, that you choose to attend St. Mary’s here in Cheltenham rather than Charlton Kings. A great shame, I’m sure you would find my sermons beneficial.”

  Ada inwardly groaned at the peevish words then quickly added a fresh jug of lemonade to the tray before carrying it out to the stall. “Here you go, Father…oh, Ruth, Martha, you’re back.”

  Jasper’s glittering gaze seared into her soul. “Hmmm. Is this the wonderful Miss Blair I’ve been hearing about?”

  She bit her lip as her mind helpfully provided explicit recollections of their last meeting. Their wicked talk as they’d signed an erotic contract. Jasper holding her thighs open and insisting she watch him pleasure her. The way he’d stuffed her pussy full until she screamed in bliss. His naked saunter to fetch afternoon tea.

  Setting down the tray so she did not drop it, Ada curtsied with unsteady legs. She didn’t even trust herself to speak.

  “Indeed it is,” said Martha. “Ada is such a treasure—”

  “Now, now,” said Reverend Blair. “Excessive compliments turn a woman’s head away from the virtuous path of modesty. Far better to offer advice on how she might improve herself—”

  “I know how I might be improved,” said Jasper crisply. “With a glass of that lemonade Miss Lacey swears is the best. How much are you asking, Miss Blair?”

  Ruth beamed. “A shilling, perhaps?

  Ada coughed to halt a wayward laugh. “A shilling does purchase the best, and our fundraising efforts would certainly welcome such a generous donation, Your Grace.”

  “As I’m very, very thirsty, I’ll take two glasses,” said Jasper, digging into his money purse and placing the required coins on the trestle table. “Here you go.”

  “Ada!” said her father impatiently. “Don’t stand there like a henwit, pour the duke a drink.”

  When she handed Jasper his first glass of cool lemonade, their fingers brushed. At the sensual jolt her hand shook slightly, spilling a few drops. “My apologies.”

  Jasper shook his head and finished the drink, then another, watching her the entire time. “Delicious.”

  Reverend Blair frowned. “There must be many stalls you wish to visit, Your Grace. Don’t let us keep you.”

  “Oh, you aren’t. I must peruse these preserves. I am partial to marmalade on toasted bread, but have recently developed an insatiable desire for peaches.”

  Even in the heat of the noon sun Ada shivered, her nipples tingling at the memory of having peach juice smeared across them and licked off. She couldn’t take much more of this subtle teasing. “Over here on this tray, Your Grace.”

  “Run along, Ada,” said her father, glaring at her. “I will assist the duke.”

  Martha shrieked. “Good heavens. Look! Over there! Are those young lads smoking a cheroot? Oh, Reverend, we must stop such foolishness. You know the kind of dark criminal path that leads to. Ruth, Ada, you stay here and guard the stall,” she finished over her shoulder as she towed him in a manner only a devout grande dame could get away with.

  Ruth’s lips twitched. “I believe there are some more jars of peach preserves in the tent, but they are dreadfully heavy. Perhaps Your Grace would be kind enough to assist for a few minutes? I will serve any customers.”

  “Of course,” said Jasper.

  Near trembling, Ada turned and entered the small but blessedly private tent, and when Jasper stepped inside a few seconds later, she practically hurled herself against his chest. He didn’t stagger by so much as an inch. One hand clamped about her waist, the other gripped the back of her neck, and his lips captured hers in a hungry kiss.

  Oh. Even better than she remembered.

  Clinging to Jasper’s shoulders for balance, Ada opened her mouth for his darting tongue. He tasted lemonade-tart, and she kissed him back eagerly, unable to stop rubbing her aching mound against the hardness between his legs. Immediately, the hand at her waist moved lower to cup her backside and press her more firmly against him. She whimpered at the feel of his cock, the sweet torment of grazing her taut nipples against his chest, wanting to claw away the fabric preventing him from thrusting deep inside her.

  The sound of a small child’s wail outside the tent was like a bucket of cold water to the face, and Ada jerked away from him, struggling to catch her breath. Good gracious. Had she lost her wits entirely? Even wi
th Ruth standing guard outside, to kiss Jasper like that behind a church stall on Cheltenham High Street was exceedingly foolish. What if her godmother had been distracted by a customer and didn’t see the vicar return? What if someone else had seen them and reported the salacious gossip to the Cheltenham Chronicle?

  Society would insist on a wedding, and Jasper had already told her quite plainly that he wasn’t a marrying man. A secret affair carried out at a private location might be acceptable, but he would never forgive a forced marriage.

  Ada closed her eyes briefly. “Is this too risky?” she whispered. “Do we need to end our affair?”

  His gaze flared. “Is that what you want?”

  She stared at her hands. Certainly not.

  But they couldn’t behave so rashly again. Their affair had to remain secret.

  Had to.

  Jasper willed his heart to stop racing and his cock to soften after that scorching hot stolen kiss. His entire sexual history had been centered around discretion: detailed contracts, private rooms in pleasure clubs, arriving at a lover’s home late in the evening and departing before dawn, and never speaking to anyone about his affairs. Bedding Ada in an abandoned cottage with the door locked, safe in the confines of his country estate, was one thing. But an embrace in an old canvas tent barely six feet wide, on the goddamned Cheltenham High Street?

  So much for control. He’d never been so reckless in his life.

  This wasn’t London. Ada wasn’t a courtesan or widow with the freedom to indulge in an affair, but a village clergyman’s daughter. And Reverend Blair wasn’t a kindly vicar, but a prune-faced purveyor of criticism and judgment who treated her worse than a servant.

  Jasper exhaled slowly. “Ada. Is ending the affair what you want? I know we said a month, but the very last thing I want is for you to feel any distress. I can tear the contract up—”

  “No.”

  Much like the day she’d knocked on the cottage door, acute relief flooded him. For he wasn’t nearly ready to end their time together, even if he was running mad. “What are you thinking, then?”