The Duke’s Indiscretion

by Adele Ashworth

  Love, love, love. The French were always talking of love. And yet there was probably much truth in her words, Charlotte decided after a few seconds of consideration. She had just never thought about it in regard to her own complex feelings for her husband.

  “I just want him to be…pleased with me,” she admitted, hoping her voice didn’t make her sound as discomfited as she felt.

  “Pleased with you?” Olivia repeated, eyes wide. “Then you must first forget the silly notion that you are not Lottie English.”

  Charlotte groaned inside.

  “And then,” the woman continued before she could argue, “if you truly want to please your husband, be the seductress in bed that he adores when you bring that part of your personality out on the stage. And yes, that means wearing the costume he gave you and letting him know you want to please him.”

  Her mouth dropped open a little. “I’m not sure I—”

  “Of course you can,” the Frenchwoman interjected, reading her thoughts. Then she grinned crookedly. “I suspect you are already a good wife as the Duchess of Newark. Now you must take direction of Lottie, and let Colin know you can successfully combine the two parts of you into the lover he wants, perhaps becoming the one lady he can love completely, and cherish always.”

  Charlotte couldn’t deny the depth of satisfaction she felt as such an idea began to take shape in her mind. She wouldn’t say the notion confused or overwhelmed her, either, as she understood everything Olivia suggested, and knew rather instinctively how to go about seducing him. She just wasn’t certain if she could bring herself to play a seductress for him in the privacy of the bedroom. But would it actually be an act? Not, she supposed, if she stopped trying so desperately hard to draw a line between Lottie of the stage and the part of herself she presented to the outside world. She’d pretended to be two people for so long now it had become natural for her, but in truth, the seductress had to be inside of her, part of her, just as her singing was.

  Her greatest confusion, she decided, really rested with the delicate emotion of love. Her parents had never been in love, although they’d had as decent a marriage as anyone in the nobility could ever expect. She’d never had the time to think about love, really, and now, suddenly, it had been thrust to center stage in her relationship with her husband.

  Did she love Colin? She didn’t think so, and she felt quite certain he didn’t love her apart from the lust he felt for Lottie. In that regard, she supposed she also lusted after him, though just the notion distressed her. Ladies did not lust. Still, after last night’s remarkable interlude, she absolutely knew that she wanted him to bed her again, which complicated everything. Becoming closer, more intimate with each other could prove disastrous for her ambition and desire to work abroad. And what if she became pregnant? She’d told him she’d give him an heir, but after the fiasco of their wedding night, she’d changed her mind. He’d told her before their wedding that he wanted her to remain childless for a while, and yet he’d left his seed inside of her during their first time together. At this point the only thing about which she could be absolutely certain was that when it came to Colin and her as a couple, nothing was certain; clearly, neither of them knew what they wanted from each other.

  With a sigh, Charlotte ran a palm across her forehead, feeling the heated flush of her skin, realizing she probably looked as mortified by the entire conversation thus far as she felt. But she couldn’t leave yet, not when Olivia had been so cheerful and understanding of her complex problem. And so, with resolve, she reached for the slice of cake she’d been offered, planted a sunny smile on her face, and changed the subject to Olivia’s forthcoming baby—a much safer and thoroughly welcome topic that had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

  Chapter 16

  Charlotte stared at her reflection in the mirror, her heart racing with the knowledge that in just a few minutes, she would be attempting the seduction of her husband.

  She had little doubt that he would want her, or at least that was her hope, especially after taking the time to don the corset he’d given her on their wedding night. But now, eyeing herself objectively, she did have to give him credit for having something fashioned that fit her perfectly. Yes, it was tight, scratchy, and not very comfortable, but it made her body look quite seductive, barely concealing her breasts with lace, outlining her curves, which, she supposed, was the entire point of the outfit.

  They’d taken dinner together in the dining room, though she’d been too nervous to eat much. He didn’t seem to notice, however, as he’d been engrossed in his own food. She’d retired after the meal, taking a long, relaxing bath in the rose-scented oil Olivia had given her. Then she’d brushed her hair to a sheen and waited a good forty-five minutes before she heard him enter his own room just a short time ago. That’s when she finally squeezed herself into the corset and applied only a touch of rouge to her cheeks for an appealing flush. And now the time had come to startle the man.

  Shoulders back, pulse racing, stomach tight with apprehension, she donned her white silk robe and loosely tied the sash, deciding to forego wearing the ridiculous shoes. It would make his surprise all the more palpable when she removed her covering for his view.

  With a deep breath and a long exhale, she shook her hair loose and walked quietly to the adjoining door. Without knocking, she turned the handle and silently opened it.

  All but one light on the night stand had been dimmed, and it took her a second or two to find him, as he wasn’t on the bed. And then as her eyes adjusted, she caught sight of him, sprawled nude as the day he was born across his small sofa, his head perched on the armrest, eyes closed, a brandy in his left hand, his right laying on top of his most private area, his thumb brushing back and forth across the tip of his—

  She gasped and her palm flew to her mouth. But to her horror, he’d heard her. He sat up abruptly and glanced in her direction, confusion crossing his shadowed brow.

  “Charlotte?”

  She couldn’t move. God help me…

  “I was just thinking about you,” he admitted in a low, husky murmur.

  She couldn’t close her eyes, couldn’t avert her gaze. The fascination at seeing him like this—nude and muscular and strong—caused a quick rush of heat to flow through her.

  She swallowed, and lowered her hand from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, backing up a step.

  Slowly, he stood, without any shame whatsoever, and her eyes couldn’t help but wander down to the most powerful, intimate part of him, now long and stiff with arousal, surrounded by thick dark curls and hard, chiseled thighs.

  For a second she thought she might faint.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice deep and speculative.

  Play the part.

  Shaking herself of as much trepidation as possible, she replied, “I wanted to bring you a gift.”

  He placed his hands on his hips, facing her fully, and it took all that was in her to drag her gaze up to his face.

  “What gift would that be?” he asked with a trace of amusement.

  God, had he no shame? He had to know how embarrassed she felt to find him like this, doing…what? She shivered just to envision it.

  “Come here,” he whispered as he began to saunter toward her.

  She hesitated, but the appeal of his physical form coupled with his unique blend of humor and caring became far too ardent of a pull for her to deny. She could feel her heart pounding in her temples, a dangerous sense of her own need building within, but she knew without doubt that she could be what, or who, he wanted.

  “Do you desire me, Colin?” she asked in a deep, husky tone.

  The amusement faded from his face; his eyes narrowed. “Why are you here, Charlotte?” he asked again, this time with dark intensity and even a trace of suspicion.

  “I’m here to give you Lottie,” she revealed as she began to move toward him.

  He stopped walking in mid-stride, his hard gaze traveling from her face to her bare feet, then
back again, his expression one of pure calculation.

  Charlotte realized at once that he didn’t trust her intent. And with that sudden thought, she instantly, and recklessly, became the Lottie English of his dreams, the Lottie that was her, no longer hesitant in approaching him.

  Smiling provocatively, she reached down and began to slowly untie the sash at her waist, noting how his gaze fell to her hands briefly before he raised it back to capture hers again. His jaw tightened; the muscles in his chest bunched as all remaining humor escaped him, replaced by a fresh surge of sexual hunger. She felt it. Just as she felt awash with a new appreciation of her power over him. And it was at that moment that all lingering doubts and trepidation evaporated.

  Pulling the tie apart, she allowed her silk wrap to open as she continued to close the distance between them. His gaze remained locked with hers until she reached up with both hands and lifted the silk from her shoulders, allowing it to fall in a feather-soft heap to the floor.

  He didn’t move, but she heard him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of her in his specially made corset.

  “Do you want me, Colin?” she breathed, nearing him at last, focusing on his beautifully masculine features, his tightened lips, knowing his erection stood between them as the only barrier to her touch. “Answer me,” she insisted in a husky whisper, her mouth curled into what she hoped was a tempting smile.

  His nostrils flared, his lids fell heavy over his eyes. And then he murmured, “Yes.”

  Confidence growing, she reached out and placed her palm on the hot skin of his chest. “How much?”

  She felt him stiffen, and with that she began to draw a line with one finger down his stomach to his navel.

  In a flash of a second, he startled her by grabbing a handful of lace at the top of her corset, between her breasts, and yanking her hard against him.

  She gasped and clutched his shoulders as he lowered his face to within inches of hers.

  “What game are you playing with me, Charlotte?” he asked, his tone coarse and hard.

  She blinked. “I’m not playing any game.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? How you make me feel? How you look in this?” He shook his head negligibly as he glanced down at her figure. “I don’t need you to tease me if you’re not here because you want to be.”

  The strain in his voice took her aback, and it immediately dawned on her that she was a very real weakness in him, that he refused to be baited if she had no desire of her own to give him pleasure. That he was vulnerable.

  Trembling inside, she replied, “You made me want you, Colin. I want you to make me feel like you did last night. I want to be your wife, your lover, and the only mistress you’ll ever need to satisfy you.”

  For a long, tense moment, he said nothing, barely breathed as he peered into her eyes, searching for falsehoods imbedded in her honest claim of longing.

  Then his cheek twitched. “The mistress you tempted me with the night we met?”

  She melted inside, and with a determination she didn’t know she possessed, she moved her hand between them and grazed the hot flesh of his engorged member with her fingertips, making him flinch.

  “The woman you desire from me now,” she replied in a silky murmur.

  He swallowed hard as his gaze roved over her face. And then he grasped the back of her head with one hand and crushed his lips to hers so hard she cried out, stunned.

  He was everywhere on her at once, one hand at her breast, pinching her nipples over the lace, tongue exploring, searching, sucking as he lowered his palm from her head to her bare bottom, massaging her there for seconds before pulling her forcefully against his hips.

  His erection seared her between her thighs, and a marvelous new surge of longing sliced through her, causing her to whimper, to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him tightly.

  In one smooth action, he lifted her off her feet and carried her, still joined at the mouth, to the edge of the bed. Dropping her quickly, he fell on top of her, bracing himself with his hand on the mattress to keep from crushing her with his weight.

  He kissed her hard and long, one leg between hers as he fumbled only a moment with the buttons on the corset before giving up and ripping them apart with one strong hand. She inhaled sharply when he lowered his head to her breasts, sucking one nipple, then the other in a frenzy.

  “Touch me again, Charlotte,” he said, his voice muffled, pained. “It felt so good.”

  The delight she felt in arousing him so thoroughly pushed all hesitation from her mind. Reaching down between them, she closed her hand over him, whimpering from a new and exciting touch, relishing in the feel of his desire, brushing her thumb across the tip as she’d seen him do so erotically to himself.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, jerking his hips back a little as he moved his mouth to her neck.

  His passion inflamed her, her erratic breathing mingled with his, and just as suddenly as she began to instinctively stroke his hard flesh, he reached down and pulled her hand away.

  “Not yet,” he said, his voice raw with need. “You’ll make me come too soon.”

  “I want to please you,” she murmured, lifting her hips to meet his.

  He groaned, pulling back a little. “God, sweetheart, everything about you pleases me.”

  The sincerity in his voice made her crazy for him, made her desperate for him, as Charlotte, as Lottie—

  “I want to touch you there,” she said breathlessly. “I want—I want to feel you climax, Colin.”

  He stilled above her, inhaling an unsteady breath, and she closed her eyes, afraid she might have gone too far. Ladies never said—

  “God, Charlotte,” he whispered, cutting into her thoughts, “you are a dream come true…”

  She raised her lashes, and the look of pure, untamed lust he emitted from his startled gaze, meant only for her, flooded her with an intensity that struck her hard.

  He briefly touched her lips with the pad of his thumb, and then lowered his hand and placed it between her legs. She whimpered, her eyes widening as he began to stroke her. He watched her, his gaze melding with hers as he ran his fingers along her cleft, taking her nearer to the edge.

  And then he lowered his head and began to kiss her chest, her breasts, her stomach. She clutched the coverlet with both hands, lifting her hips again impulsively, matching the rhythm of his expert caress—until she felt his lips brush against the mound of coarse, curly hair at the junction of her thighs.

  Startled, she sat up on her elbows and looked down at him when he rested his body between her legs. Then he suddenly placed his mouth where his hand had been.

  “Colin—”

  He ignored her shock as he started teasing the nub of her desire with his tongue. She watched him, her initial fascination soon replaced by a rush of pleasure she could never have imagined, quickly taking her to the edge once more.

  He pursued her satisfaction, moving faster, harder, and she lost herself in the feel, leaning her head back, moaning, pushing her hips instinctively against his hard mouth, gasping when he drove his tongue into her, then back out again, pacing himself, driving her to the brink of insanity.

  She relaxed against the mattress again, clutching the coverlet with tight fists, pushing against him, needing, wanting. Desperate. And then she felt that wondrous explosion of pleasure. Body shuddering, she gasped for air, allowing herself to experience every tingling wave of sensation that roared through her, given her with the expertise of his mouth, the caress of his strong hands.

  Before she could reach for him, he released her, moving up and over her once more, staring at her through dark eyes glazed with hunger. She felt his hardness between her legs, and she braced herself for his entrance, welcomed it.

  “Touch me now, sweetheart. Make me come,” he pleaded in a husky, choked murmur, lifting his hips over hers.

  She did as he asked without question, reaching for him without restraint, holding his gaze as her hand closed ov
er his rigid erection. He groaned as the heat of her skin seared his own hard flesh, and she felt him jerk minutely in her hand, his emanating need for release forcing a low whimper of satisfaction from her throat. He sucked in air through his teeth when she brushed her thumb along the tip, and for a second or two she hesitated, unsure what to do next.

  Then as if reading her mind, he began to move his hips as he towered over her, watching her through glazed eyes, his features taut, jaw tense. The stroking came naturally as he moved, teaching her without words, his head rolling back as he neared his own crest of pleasure.

  She stared at his face, mesmerized by the beauty of him, swept up again in the passion of the moment.

  “God, Charlotte,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh, yes, make me come…”

  She’d never felt more powerful in her life, caught up in the wonder of him, feeling his strength in her palm, so touched by his need for her, so ready to watch him climax.

  “Colin…” she said through a soft moan.

  He opened his eyes again and looked at her. “Faster, Lottie,” he begged, teeth clenched, breathing erratic. “Oh, God, stroke me—”

  Suddenly she felt him twitch.

  “Oh, God—oh, God, Charlotte—”

  And then he jerked into her hand fast, twice, three times, moaning deeply, breathing through his teeth, the sticky fluid that pulsed from him spilling over her thumb and fingers and down onto her belly.

  Charlotte knew immediately that she’d never experienced anything so intense in her life. She licked her lips, closed her eyes to the feel, stroking him softly until at last he pulled back and slipped out of her hand.

  He fell onto the bed beside her and drew her close to him, holding her head against his chest until his breathing slowed, his body relaxed.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and fairly buried her body into the side of his as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, feeling confident she had finally made her peace with Lottie.

  Colin lay awake for a long time, on his back with only a sheet to cover his naked body, both hands stuffed up under his pillow as he stared at the darkened ceiling, seeing nothing, too edgy to sleep. Charlotte snored faintly beside him, something about which he’d later get profound joy in teasing her. She’d dozed off after he’d insisted she stay with him for the entire night, and just thinking of her horror at such a suggestion made him grin in the darkness. She had come to him as the temptress every man alive had fantasized about bedding, and yet the notion of sleeping an entire night beside her husband mortified her. His wife—such a complex creature.