Trapping a Duchess

by Michele Bekemeyer

  “In the flesh,” he said drolly.

  “How did your mother take it?”

  “She's hied herself away to the country.”

  “And what of you?”

  “Me? I am not at all bothered. The wedding planning was killing me slowly. Now I can be spared the torture of knowing my last days would be spent fading away amongst lists of flowers and ruched lace.”

  “Well, I think it's romantic,” Alex said, smiling. “And good on Abby for not giving in.”

  “Agreed,” Sophie said, fanning herself. “Is it just me or is it stifling in here?”

  “Like sardines in a can left to bake in the sun.”

  “Foul man,” Alex teased.

  “If we can't have fun with words, my dear, then I am certain the night is doomed,” he said, grinning.

  “Here comes Eliza,” Sophie said, directing Alex's focus to the woman's approach.

  “Good evening, ladies, my lord. Alexandra, I don't suppose you're ready to put those sewing skills to use, are you?” she asked, lifting her gown slightly up. “I've torn a hem.”

  “Do you have a needle and thread handy?”

  Eliza tapped her reticule and grinned. “I do.”

  “Back in a bit,” Alex said, then followed Eliza to the ladies retiring room.

  As soon as they were gone, Lord Courtland turned to Sophie. “I owe you an apology. I should not have stuck my nose where it did not belong.”

  She waved off his apology. “Not at all, my lord. If anyone should be remorseful, it is I. All you were trying to do was help and I behaved like a boor.”

  He smiled down at her. “I take it you were able to resolve the matter?”

  She laughed, coloring a little. “Yes.”

  “Then I am glad to hear it.” He lowered his voice. “I must be honest, I expected to find him by your side.”

  “I had just arrived when I ran into you, my lord,” she admonished playfully.

  “Ah,” he murmured. “I daresay that wouldn't stop me, were I in his shoes.”

  “That is because you are constantly on the run from the parson’s tricksters,” she said with a teasing laugh. “Not to mention an insufferable mischief maker.”

  His deep laugh joined hers. “Only with you, my lady,” he said before his gaze drifted to her right. Every nerve in Sophie's body registered Andrew’s presence seconds before she saw him.

  “Good evening, Courtland. Lady Sophia,” he said, giving them both a courteous bow.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” she said, dipping low in an effort to hide her smile.

  “Excuse me, if you will. I have the feeling my mother is beckoning.” He winked at Sophie, then walked away.

  Sophie turned to Andrew, chuckling. “What he lacks in subtlety, he makes up for in kindness.”

  “I will have to thank him for affording us a moment of privacy.”

  “Indeed you shall,” she said, looking up at him from under her lashes. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, his words starting an ache between her thighs.

  “You look in need of ravishing.”

  “I was just thinking the same of you,” she said, sounding as breathless as she felt.

  “You have a headache,” he said, sotto voce. “Perhaps you should head home.”

  “I can't. I haven't been here long enough.”

  “Then spend an hour socializing, but retire soon. And make sure you're alone.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Sophie did just that, making her apologies to Alexandra before attempting the same with her mother. It took ten minutes to convince the woman it was merely a headache and not something which required an escort. As she climbed the staircase to her bedchamber, she considered the hour she spent without Andrew. The handful of minutes she spent by his side had felt so right that once he departed, she felt an acute sense of loss. The color drained from the evening and no matter how hard she tried, she hadn’t been able to revive it.

  She missed him when he wasn’t there. The idea sent her mind whirling. She fought against the feeling that refusing his proposal had been the worst of decisions; that if she ever gave him up, she would be making the biggest mistake of her life. She reminded herself those feelings were easily justified when he was on his best behavior. They were just as easily quashed the instant he became controlling, which seemed to happen more often than not.

  She entered her bedchamber to find him leaning against the bedpost. “Took you long enough,” he said, pushing away to take her into his arms.

  Gazing up at him, she smiled. “Was the time you spent by my side not enough?”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  Her lips tilted up at one end. “Never is an awfully long time, Andrew.”

  “Yes it is, Sophie. When it comes to you, so is tomorrow.” His gaze was serious.

  Sighing, she rested her head against his shoulder, content to snuggle against him. As usual, it wasn't enough. She couldn’t wait to feel him moving inside her. “You,” she said suddenly, plucking at the buttons on his shirt, “are wearing too many clothes.”

  His hands slid down her back and around her bottom. “As are you.” He pulled her into him, his invading hardness sending spirals of pleasure through her body.

  “Heavens,” she said, her head lolling backwards as he draped kisses along her neck.

  Rich and delightfully sinful laughter tumbled from his lips. She stepped out of his arms and ambled towards the door, tossing a wicked smile over her shoulder as she snicked the lock. Her mother wouldn’t be home for hours and Simon wasn’t likely to return until morning.

  Thanks to Andrew's clever plan, she had more time to enjoy her evening, and the best place possible in which to enjoy it.

  * * * *

  Andrew tracked her movements, watching the sultry sway of her hips as she sauntered to the bedside table and picked up a box of matches. He followed her willowy form as she lit the candles in the room, each flicker of light revealing the beauty of her features. Once finished, she sat on the edge of the bed, desire etched in every line of her face. With a graceful lift of her hand, she beckoned. “Come.”

  His cock gave an excited twitch, but he shook his head. “I don’t think so, madam, for I have not been properly greeted.”

  The sound of her light chuckle wound his body a notch tighter. “But what kind of greeting would you deem proper?” she asked, her head tilting down and slightly to one side while her eyes conveyed that she knew exactly what kind of greeting he wanted. Even better, she wanted to give it to him.

  “Well, for one thing, I have not been offered tea or biscuits.”

  She backed slowly onto the bed until she was leaning against the headboard, her gaze trained on his. She tugged a few pins from her hair, then undid the simple knot. Her silken tresses brushed against the coverlet, creating a sultry image that sent his control battling against the overwhelming need to touch her. “I’m afraid I cannot offer you tea and biscuits,” she said, her voice a siren-like whisper. “I have only this bed. . .and me.”

  He forced himself to walk slowly towards her, intent on dragging out the moment until she was as hungry as he. He devoured her with his eyes, stopping to look her over once his legs hit the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid I don’t like everything on that dish.” He eyed her clothes as if they were an awful tasting garnish.

  “Perhaps you could remove the things you dislike, then, until the dish is to your liking?”

  He reached down and removed her slippers, eliciting a shiver as his fingers drifted over the high arches of her feet. “We can start with those.” He ambled to the side of the bed and slid in behind her, pressing her forward so she was cradled between his thighs. He tugged backwards. Her head fell against his chest and he stared deep into her eyes, caught the change from cerulean to cobalt as desire swept through her. His hands drifted along her throat, fingers lingering over the pulse that beat in wild tune with his own before moving down to unfasten the buttons of her gown. She watched in silence as he slipp
ed each one open, her breathing slowing almost to a halt as the last one slid free. He pushed the halves apart and let out an appreciative moan when his fingers met creamy skin instead of the chemise he had expected.

  “Exquisite,” he said as he cupped her breasts. He found her nipple and rolled it between his fingers, delighting at the way her breath hitched. “Shall I continue to the next course?” he asked, pressing the question against her velvety skin. She arched in response. “Mmm, I thought so.” He pushed her forward so he could strip the garment from her upper body, then sat up on his knees and slid around in front of her.

  “Why so silent?” he teased as he lifted her hips and removed her gown. His eyes devoured her naked beauty, the long legs connected to sensually curved hips, the teardrop breasts that seemed too perfect to be real. He murmured approvingly, bringing a blush to places he couldn’t wait to press his lips. “My God, Sophie. You are absolutely stunning.”

  Her skin flushed a shade deeper, but she answered with a dreamy smile. He ran his fingers over her creamy skin with reverent strokes. While she clearly enjoyed his touch, she seemed determined to keep her wits about her. He intended to shatter her composure. He slid his hands along her thighs and pushed her knees up and out, spreading her open for his enjoyment. And gave no time for modest protestations before he parted her flesh and tasted her. He ran his tongue through her slit, allowing himself a smug grin when her spine arched.

  “Oh, my, god,” she said, her head lolling back.

  “I’m afraid it’s just me,” he said before closing his mouth over her. He alternated light with thorough strokes, using lips, tongue and teeth to bring her to the brink of climax before gentling again. And watched as her wits began to scatter. He pressed his fingers inside her in a firm but slow slide meant to transform mere sensitivity into white hot need. Her fingers tunneled tightly through his hair, urging him down for another taste. He was all too happy to oblige.

  His fingers caught the rhythm of his tongue, delving deep as she nearly bucked off the bed. She grabbed at his hair and pulled tight, as if trying to hold back. “Let it happen,” he said, nibbling at her thigh. He pressed his thumb against her clitoris and ran his tongue over her, sucking and licking until she could no longer hold back her climax. Her musky taste filled his mouth as she shuddered.

  When orgasm finished with her, he adjusted his position so that his arms were cradling her legs. His chin rested on her stomach, nestled between her belly button and the thatch of hair beneath. “That was the most delicious meal I've had in ages.”

  She laughed then squeezed her legs together, her face flushed with desire. “You've saved room for dessert, I hope.”

  “Oh, yes, definitely,” he said, crawling over her to taste her lips.

  She kissed him hungrily. “I love the way you taste.”

  “The way we taste.” he said, feasting on her mouth.

  Her hands, which had been languidly roaming over his body, were suddenly tugging at his clothes in an effort to remove them.

  “We have all night,” he said, grinning.

  She calmed, but did not stop her fingers moving through the buttons of his shirt with the speed of an experienced valet. “I need you now.”

  He sat up on his knees and shrugged out of his shirt, then slid to side of the bed to remove his trousers and falls. Before he had a chance to turn, she was climbing on top of him, her legs straddling his hips as her fingers found his cock. She slid down, taking him to the hilt on a pleasured moan. He kept his body still while she rode him, content to allow her to set the pace and enjoy the reins for a bit. His time would come soon enough. She rode him hard and fast, her pace growing frantic. He sensed she was reaching for orgasm, and he struggled to keep his own at bay.

  “I can't,” she said, frustration sounding in her voice.

  “Yes, you can,” he said, lifting her up and tumbling them back into bed. He flipped her over onto her stomach, grabbed a pillow and stuffed it underneath her hips, pressing down on her back when she moved to lift up. “Stay put,” he said, tugging her arse up as he moved into position behind her and slid inside. With one hand on her hip and the other pressed against on the small of her back, he kept the pace slow.

  She moaned and bucked, pushing against him with desperate movements. “Please, Andrew,” she begged as he continued rolling his hips in a torturous rhythm. “I need more.”

  Fingers splaying over her arse, he ignored her plea, continuing his torturous pace until he had her wound as tightly as possible, until she was clinging to sanity by her fingernails. “There is something I need as well,” he said softly as he reached under her and found her, palm against her abdomen as his fingers teased her clitoris.

  “Anything. Anything. . .please.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to demand that she marry him, to coerce a yes out of her during her moment of weakness. Instead, he pulled to her knees so that she sat on his lap and thrust his cock deep inside her. “Scream for me.”

  “Oh, yes! Yes!” she cried as he pounded into her. His torso was rigid against her back, one hand pressed down on her shoulder, the other with fingers splayed across her stomach as he drove them both into bliss. Her moans of pleasure mixed with his, the sweat of their bodies salting their lips.

  “Christ,” he mumbled, biting into her shoulder as blinding pleasure stole his wits. He climaxed, his body jerking with the intensity of his release. After a long, breathless moment, he released her, pushed the pillow aside and slid behind her, breaths erratic as her own as he struggled to cool down. Chills scattered over her skin as he chuckled against her neck.

  “What’s so amusing?” she asked, toying with his fingers and sounding more content than he’d ever heard.

  “This,” he said, grinning as he turned her to face him. “This is going to kill me. You know that, don’t you?”

  She laughed. “Oh, I hope not. I should like to keep you around for a while longer, for there can be no other man alive able to satisfy me the way you do.”

  He stretched out along the length of her, wrapping a leg around hers as he tweaked her nose. “There will never be another.” His teasing words did not hide the warning beneath, still her chuckle was dismissive. “I am serious.”

  “Please don’t do this,” she said, pulling out of his arms to sit up on the bed. “Not now, when everything is so perfect.”

  “I can't help it,” he said, shrugging.

  “No, I don't imagine you can.” The sadness in her voice left him feeling distinctly lacking.

  His teeth gnashed together, jaw tense with the start of anger. “What is that supposed to mean?” He tossed out the terse question as he slipped off the bed and pulled on his trousers.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don't know, or won't say?” She shrugged. He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Because I want to be with you. Forever, Sophie. This,” he gestured between them, “isn’t enough.”

  His words roused her ire. “It was enough for you a moment ago. It was enough for you in your carriage and at the Ridgley’s and every other place since. What has changed?”

  “Everything has changed,” he said, striding across the room before whipping around. “I can’t explain it further, other than to say it isn't enough.”

  She stood. “Why must everything be black and white for you? Why can't we just exist, the two of us, in the gray?”

  “Because, damn it,” he bellowed, strolling up to her and taking her head in his hands. “I love you, that’s why.” He pressed his lips to hers, desperate to show her how much he needed her.

  She pulled away, her eyes clouding with tears. “Please don't say that.”

  “Why not? Because it scares you? Because if you consider for a moment the happiness we could have together you won’t be able to distrust it?”

  “No! Because you're only saying it to get what you want!”

  “You're wrong,” he said, barely able to bite out the words.

  She pulled out of
his grasp. “I am not.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots with frustrated, jerky movements. “You are and I could prove it if you gave me a chance. But you won't, because you've got some misbegotten notion about who I am and what I want.”

  “I know what you want.”

  “You don't know anything about me.” She took a seat next to him and slid her hands over his shoulders. “Don’t,” he said quietly as he pulled away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.” He stood and walked to the door. Her mouth was hanging open as if she was at a complete loss for words. That was fine with him. Unless she was able to return the ‘I love you’ he’d given her, there was nothing left to say. “You know where to find me when you’re ready,” he said as he exited into the darkened hallway. She followed behind him, watching from the door as he made his way down the hall. He stopped at the top of the staircase and sucked in a painful breath, but could not bring himself to face her. “I won’t wait forever, Sophie. I can't.” He felt her eyes on his back as he descended the staircase.

  Once again, he had given her an ultimatum; once again, she had rebuffed him. The only difference between this time and last was that he had admitted his love for her. It was nerve wracking to think that her decision would change his life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sophie washed and dressed as quickly as possible. Her body was still tender from the night before, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Restful sleep had eluded her again. She’d tossed and turned with one nightmare after the next of being banished to the country. Even in her dreams, she felt the loneliness, the sheer oppression of a life which promised no happiness and no joy, only misery. Andrew featured more prominently than ever before.

  Her situation bore down on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She wanted him, of that she was certain, but at what cost? He would be demanding, possessive, ruthless; all the things her father had been, all the things that nearly broke her mother’s spirit. Her decision was difficult to come by, since the answer which always readily jumped to her lips was taken hostage by memories of twining bodies and melding souls. Memories of him.