Darling Duke

by Scarlett Scott

  Oh.

  “Of course not.” She paused, gathering her tumultuous thoughts. “I left because there was not room enough for me and all your ghosts both. I cannot be the sort of wife who does not want to own your whole heart. It isn’t in me.”

  “You do own my heart.” His husky baritone sent a frisson through her. “It is all yours. Only yours. If you will have it, that is.”

  You have my heart.

  Had she heard him correctly?

  “Spencer.” His name escaped her lips as a plea. She did not care. To hell with her pride. She was begging him to say the words she needed to hear most. The words she had been convinced he would never give her.

  “Boadicea, I love you.” He paused, his gaze plumbing the depths of hers. “I fell in love with you the moment you dared to kiss me in my library. I love your daring and your fearlessness. I love your incorrigible love of smutty books. I love that you make me laugh, that you ride better than anyone else I know, that you are bold and feisty and intelligent as hell. I love the freckles on your nose, the beauty mark next to your lips. I love your fiery hair and the way you smell so fucking good that I want to lick you everywhere like a candy. I love it when you say wicked words and when you wait for me in bed wearing nothing but stockings.”

  “Spencer,” she whispered, wanting to tell him the same.

  But he shook his head, intent upon his mission. “Let me finish. I love you so bloody much that it is a physical ache within me. This last week without you was hell on earth. It made me realize that I cannot live without you, that I’ve allowed my fears to rule me for far too long. It made me realize that I need to fight for you, to be a better, stronger man for you. To be the man you deserve. It will take time, Boadicea, and I cannot promise I will ever be worthy of you. But if you grant me this chance, I swear that I will do my utmost to never let you down.”

  She didn’t think twice. In a blink, she moved across the carriage, lifting her skirts, straddling his lap. She caught his beloved face in her hands, gazing down at him with all the love bursting inside her. “Oh Spencer, I love you too. I love you with everything in me, more than I ever imagined possible.” She kissed his nose, unable to help herself. “I love you exactly as you are. You are all I want, all I have ever wanted without even knowing it. I loved you the moment you stole my book to read for yourself.” She grinned at the last, removing his hat to tunnel her fingers through his soft, dark hair.

  His lips quirked into a smile, his hands sliding up her back in a hot brand she felt through her dress and undergarments. “I had no intention of reading it when I took it from you, minx.”

  “Of course not.” She kissed his cheek, his chin, the patch of skin on his throat where he smelled of shaving soap and delicious man. Bo inhaled. “Tell me this is real. Tell me this is not a dream and I won’t wake up alone and without you.”

  “It’s not a dream, love.” His fingers tangled in the hair at her nape. “I’m so sorry I tried to keep you at a distance. When I fell in love with you, I allowed the past and my fears to get the better of me. I was not honest with you about Millicent.”

  She stilled, her lips pressed over the pounding of his pulse. “I know you loved her, Spencer. I am so sorry for the losses you suffered.”

  “I didn’t love her.” His voice rumbled beneath her mouth. “I cared for her—ours was a match desired by our families rather than a love match. When the babe was born stillborn, something inside her altered, and she was never the same. And I—I feared that it was having the babe that caused her madness. The doctor at the asylum said he had seen other similar cases of puerperal mania. When she died, I vowed I would never again take such a risk, that I would never father another child.”

  Her heart ached for him, and at last she fully understood. “Oh, my love.” She caressed his cheek, a fresh surge of tenderness rushing through her. “I do not need children to make me happy. You are all I require.”

  He shook his head, gazing at her with such open adoration that her heart gave an answering pang. “There is something else, love. The day that Millicent killed herself, it was her intent to kill me. All the signs had been there. She had been raving, talking to herself, but I wanted to hope so badly that her time in the asylum had made her well.”

  He stopped, seeming to gather himself.

  Shock warred with horror within her. How much he had endured, more than she had ever imagined. “Dear God, Spencer. You do not need to say anything else. I understand, my love.”

  “I want to tell you,” he insisted. “I would have there be no more secrets between us. No more impediments or obstacles. Millicent found me in my study. She had a pistol that belonged to my father, and she had it trained upon me. She was going to kill me. I will never understand why she did not, why she took her own life instead. But she did, and I was spared. The trauma of that day…it remained with me.

  “I was like a traveler in a carriage with no destination, watching everything pass by me and too damn afraid to live again. And then you swept into my life, with your red dress and your beauty and your bawdy book and glorious impudence. You are such a force, Boadicea. You changed everything for me, and I did not know how to cope with it. It took me some time to understand that you were exactly what I needed—what I need—that you make me whole again, that you make me feel again, that you make me so bloody happy. All I want to do is spend the rest of my life attempting to make you as happy as you make me. All I want to do is love you. If you’ll let me.”

  The carriage stopped.

  Bo scarcely noticed. Tears were streaming down her cheeks by the time he had finished speaking. Tears of sadness for what he had gone through, tears of deep and abiding happiness, of gratitude and love.

  Above all, love.

  “Of course I will let you, my love.” She kissed him at last, and it was wild and messy and filled with passion and emotion, wet with her tears. A frenzied gnashing of tongues and teeth.

  A rap on the carriage door startled them both, and they broke off the kiss, staring at each other with what she was sure were matching smiles of dazed joy.

  “We are here,” he said, helping her to disentangle herself from him and move back to the opposite squab.

  “We are home,” she returned, and no word had ever felt more right aside from one.

  Love.

  It had been years since Spencer had stepped inside Bainbridge House, and so it seemed fitting that when he did once more, it was with his beautiful wife in his arms. Heart swelling with love, he stalked past a row of gawping domestics who had been assembled for the customary introduction to their new mistress. He had sent word ahead to expect him, and his butler and housekeeper had done their diligence.

  But introductions could bloody well wait.

  “Your Grace,” intoned his butler, sounding uncharacteristically flummoxed.

  “Not now, Leland,” he called, not even pausing in his stride. “The Duchess and I have an urgent matter to attend to.”

  “Spencer,” Boadicea protested, her tone scandalized. “Put me down at once. You cannot carry me past the servants like a ruffian.”

  He continued on, undeterred, finding the staircase.

  “I do believe that I just did.” Fancy that. He had shocked his wife, who up until that moment, he would have sworn was not even shockable. He grinned, happiness rising within him like an ascension balloon. “I will not be impeded, my love. Introductions can be performed tomorrow. Or next year. I don’t give a damn. All I want is you.”

  As he growled the last sentence into her ear, desire surged, joining the happiness and the love. Nothing was getting in the way of him making love to his wife, properly and thoroughly the way he should have done from the onset. He was ready. Confessing everything to her in the carriage had left him feeling lighter than he had in years.

  And, for the first time, not just hopeful but confident. Confident that he had found the one woman who was meant for him, that every risk he took in opening his heart to her was more than worth
it, that loving her was the best thing he would ever do.

  Up the stairs he carried her, leaving the astonished servants behind them. Exhilaration pulsed through his veins. He wasn’t even winded. Love was like a sun burning in his chest, and he felt invincible and strong, as if he could carry her up and down St. James’s all day long. As if he could fight a hundred battles. As if he could overcome anything as long as she was by his side.

  “I want you too,” she murmured, and then her mouth was on his neck, feasting on his skin, and he felt the hot lick of her tongue. “I have missed you so.”

  Two more strides, and he had found his chamber door. If he didn’t have her alone and naked soon, he was going to explode. With a bit of juggling, he opened the door and stepped inside with her, kicking it closed behind them. The bed was turned down, the room aired in preparation of his return.

  It was all so right. As right as the woman in his arms. He lowered her to her feet, and then his lips were on hers, open and seeking. Demanding and taking and giving. She licked into his mouth, her hands scrambling to remove his jacket. He found the fastening of her bodice and tore when it would not cooperate.

  The sound of rending fabric filled the silence. He didn’t care if he ruined her silk. He would buy her a hundred dresses to replace this one. She tasted sweet like honeyed tea, and he was drunk on her. He never wanted to stop kissing her. His waistcoat was gone, and then his shirt. Her dress fell to the carpet. He undid the knot of her corset strings, slid the hooks from their moorings. He gripped the embroidered décolletage of her chemise in both hands and tore it from her body. Her fingers opened the placket of his trousers.

  Dragging his lips from hers, he toed off his boots and shrugged his trousers and his smalls to the floor. He removed his stockings, her drawers. Bo stood before him, all creamy curves and brilliant beauty, wearing nothing but her lacy black stockings. His mouth went dry, a combination of love and need slamming him in the chest.

  “My God, princess, you are the most beautiful bloody woman I have ever seen.” He hauled her to him, claiming her mouth in a slow, possessive kiss before breaking away. “Get on the bed, love.”

  She reached for his hand, twining her fingers through his, and pulled him across the chamber, her forget-me-not eyes never leaving his. “I love you so much, Spencer.”

  They fell upon the bed together. He worshipped her as he had dreamed of doing this last week they’d spent apart. With his tongue, with his mouth, with his hands. He sucked her pretty peach nipples until she moaned. He licked the silken skin behind her ear until she bucked. His fingers dipped inside the warm, slick folds at the heart of her, finding her clitoris and working it until he dragged his mouth down her luscious skin and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

  He didn’t stop until the strength of her release raged through her body and she trembled beneath him, the sweet nectar of her spend flowing over his lips and tongue. And then he rose, settled himself between her thighs, met her gaze, his rigid cock probing her slick cove.

  “I’m going to spend inside you,” he gritted. “Nothing else will do.”

  “Spencer,” she whispered. “You don’t have to. I can wait. I will wait.”

  “No.” He took her left hand in his, aligned their palms. “It will not wait. Not ever again. You are all I want. You are everything.”

  “As are you, darling man.” With her free hand, she cupped his face, and he pressed a kiss to it. “I’m ready.”

  “So am I, my love.”

  He notched himself to her channel, canted his hips, and slid home in one thrust. They discovered their rhythm together, raining hungry kisses on each other, moving as one. When she found her second release and her pussy clamped on his cock, he followed right behind, burying deep to empty himself inside her.

  Good. Sweet. God.

  This woman. She had rescued him from himself.

  Breathless, boneless, mindless, he rolled to his side, taking her with him, not about to miss the heady sensation of her bare flesh on his.

  “And then?” she asked, her voice breathless.

  He smiled, kissed her delectable mouth. “And then he realized he could never be happier than he was in this moment, with the woman he loved in his arms.”

  o was late getting back to Bainbridge House.

  She had not meant to linger for so long following her speech, but the rapidly expanding membership of the Lady’s Suffrage Society meant that the hall she and Clara had booked for today’s meeting had been filled to capacity, with ladies spilling out into the vestibules and streets. They would need to find a larger venue. Their little group had swelled to include not just ladies of the ton, but working women among its ranks as well. Bo was hopeful that together, they could affect change.

  But as she made her way to the nursery, the rush that filled her emerged from a different origin than her pride at the hard work she and Clara had put into their cause. Rather, it was a rush of love and awe, the twin emotions that washed over her whenever she thought of her husband and her daughter, her two most precious loves.

  When she slipped into the cheerful confines of the nursery with its pale pink and ivory striped wallpaper and dainty child-sized furniture, her eyes instantly went to the most magnificent sight in the world. The tall, beautiful man seated on a rocking chair across the chamber, holding a blanketed bundle in his arms, met her gaze and smiled.

  How she loved her husband and daughter. Her heart filled, a deep sense of contentment unfurling within her.

  “Your mama has finally returned from her speech, little princess,” Spencer murmured. “She is determined that you will have the right to vote when you are old enough.”

  Bo reached his side and trailed a hand over her sleeping daughter’s soft, rosy cheek, before pressing a kiss to her silky auburn hair. “I am sorry that it took me so long this evening,” she said, careful to keep her voice hushed lest she wake Elizabeth.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  She leaned in to kiss him next, a quick press of her lips to his that sent the languorous slide of heat straight through her. “My speech was quite well-received. I do think we may be able to drum up enough support to get another resolution before the House of Commons.”

  “Wonderful, my love.” His green eyes glowed into hers, shining with love. “I am so proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed him again, unable to help herself. “Mmm. You smell so wonderful. I missed you terribly.”

  “You were gone for all of three hours, darling.” Amusement laced his voice.

  “Three hours too many,” she said, caressing the slash of his cheekbone, loving the abrasion of his whiskers on her skin. “How did I get so fortunate to have the best husband in all England and the sweetest, most beautiful daughter?”

  “You trespassed in my library to read a bawdy book one day.” His grin deepened. “And the rest is history.”

  Her heart ached looking at Spencer cradling Elizabeth with such loving protection in his arms. Bo was so happy, so ridiculously, wonderfully happy. Their love had grown over the last year and a half, and they were closer than ever. Spencer’s ice was long melted, and in its place burned a steady, magnificent warmth. Even his dragon of a mother had softened, ceasing all attempts at drowning Bo in fish.

  It was almost too good to be true, this life she lived.

  She could not seem to stop smiling or drinking in the sight of her husband. “Thank heavens for bawdy books.”

  “Thank heavens for you, my love.” He caught her hand and raised it to his lips for a worshipful kiss. “You saved me, and you have given me the most precious gifts a man could ever ask for: our daughter and your heart.”

  She stared at him, love bursting in her heart, and the news she had been waiting to impart would not be contained a moment more. “There will be one more gift to add to that list soon.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Surely not another pocket watch from my favorite horse thief?”

  Bo shook her head. “No. This is
the sort of gift that takes many months to arrive.”

  “Another babe?” he asked, hope lacing his voice.

  “Yes.” She studied him, pressing a hand to her abdomen where the new life they had created already grew. “Are you happy, Spencer?”

  “My God.” He rose to his feet, taking care to bounce Elizabeth in a soothing motion lest she wake, and then hauled her to his side with one arm. “I am happy beyond words.” He kissed the crown of her head.

  She slid her arm around his lean waist, cuddling nearer to him as his pine scent enveloped her. “As am I, my love. I could not ask for more.” She paused and for old time’s sake, she could not resist asking him one more question. “And then?”

  He smiled down into her eyes. “And then they put their daughter down to sleep for the night, and they went to their chamber and spent the rest of the evening making love.”

  Bo raised a brow. “That sounds like the sort of story I would like to read.”

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading Darling Duke! I hope you enjoyed the latest installment in the Heart’s Temptation series. From the moment Bo and Spencer first met in his library, I knew these two were going to lead each other on a merry chase on their way to happily ever after, and they didn’t disappoint.

  If you’d like to keep up to date with my latest releases, sign up for my email list here.

  As always, please consider leaving an honest review of Darling Duke. All reviews are greatly appreciated!

  If you’d like a preview of the new stand-alone historical romance in the Wicked Husbands Series, Her Deceptive Duke, available here, do read on.

  Until next time,

  Wicked Husbands Book 4

  Georgiana, Duchess of Leeds, hasn’t seen her husband since he left her on their wedding day for an extended hunting expedition and never returned. But she isn’t the sort to wait around pining for an arrogant oaf who can’t bother to recall he has a wife, no matter how sinfully handsome he may be.