“Since I was ten years old,” she replied, brushing a tuft of dark hair from his forehead.
Declan closed his eyes and leaned forward to press his lips to her brow. Her temple. Her cheek. And finally, when he laid his lips on hers, she moaned into his mouth.
She pulled away for a gasp of air a moment later, and he continued to ply her with kisses along her chin and neck.
“Is that why you’re here?” he asked. “To tell me this?”
“Yes.”
He paused, his mouth hovering over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “And I must beg for your forgiveness. It was ill-done of me to malign your father, to give voice to my assumptions without proof. I apologize.”
Alethea swallowed, her fingers curling into his shoulders. “I know…but that doesn’t matter now.”
Declan met her gaze. “It doesn’t? Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”
As he turned to lave her skin with his tongue, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure down her limbs before condensing between her thighs, she urged a half version of the truth to fall from her lips.
She swallowed down a wanton sound and whispered, “What matters is I wanted to be with you. I need to be with you.”
He broke from her embrace and offered a wicked smile. “I need you, too,” he said, a second before he swept her in his arms and carried her out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
August 1820
I often wonder what would be worse: the twins discovering the truth or them not learning it at all.
-The Diary of Margaret Gordon
Declan had never climbed the staircase at Darington Terrace with more determined purpose.
Alethea loved him, and he was intent to show her how deeply he cared for her.
If he didn’t spend in his trousers first.
“The servants will see us,” she whispered, streaks of pink staining her cheekbones as she looked about anxiously before burying her face against his chest. Her sudden transformation from an alluring seductress to a blushing innocent amused him. “You know how servants gossip. All of the ton will know I was here.”
“My servants will not gossip. I pay them too well. And most have been with my family since my father was the duke. If they do see you, they will not talk.” Declan was absolutely certain of this.
For she would be his duchess. He squeezed her, resolve and hope propelling him forward.
When he reached the second floor, he turned left and hastened to his chamber, shutting the door with his shoulder. He carried her to his large bed on the far wall and placed her gently on the counterpane as if she were a fragile figurine. Not taking his gaze off her, he traced back to the door and turned the lock, the sound ringing in the silent room.
Her eyes grew big as she watched him prowl back to her, and she looked away.
“I like this room,” she said breathlessly, her gaze darting about. “It’s a soothing space.”
“It is,” he forced himself to say as he sank on the bed next to her, stifling a laugh when the mattress dipped and she rolled to him. He caught her in his arms and still she would not look at him.
“This color is lovely,” she chattered, running a hand over the dark-blue stitching on the bed cover.
He tipped her chin up with his hand. “You’re lovely.”
She shook her head slightly, even as her eyes fell to his mouth. “T-thank y—”
He cut her off with a kiss.
And like that, the room went up in flames. Every place their bodies touched sparked, and as he ran his tongue across her lips, demanding entry, it was as if he held a Roman candle in his arms.
She opened readily for him, and he stroked his tongue against hers in slow, languid movements that had her wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her glorious curves against him. Her soft moans reverberated against his tongue, a sensation so erotic he fought the urge to throw up her skirts to see if she was as aroused as she sounded.
Declan tugged free the knot that held her cloak closed and pulled the garment from her shoulders. When his fingers met warm, silky skin, he released her mouth and studied her.
She wore only a night rail. A diaphanous pink satin creation that flattered her creamy skin and made her lips appear as if she’d rubbed ripe strawberries against them. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid, loose strands pulled free with abandon, and its color matching the very flames that threatened to burn down the room.
She was breathtaking, but not just because of her physical beauty. She was lovely because of everything else that comprised her. Her clever mind. Her unfailing kindness. Her witty sense of humor. Her fierce loyalty, even in the face of daunting odds.
“What?” she asked wide-eyed.
Declan cupped her delicate jaw between his hands. “I just realized how right this feels. As if we were always meant to share this with each other.”
“You’ve only now realized this?” Her teasing smile was sunshine.
He ran his thumb across her mouth. “Hush. I’ve never been as quick as you.”
She nipped his finger, her tongue running over the spot to take away the sting. “I know.”
Coherent thoughts evaporated. He dropped both hands and slipped the thin straps from her shoulders and dipped his head to kiss the expanse of flesh he’d uncovered like a tot with a new Christmas present. Alethea’s head fell back as he kissed his way down her neck, pausing to consider the way her night rail hung loosely on her chest, snagged by her nipples that pebbled beneath the heat of his gaze.
With an impatient hand, he tugged the material loose and indulged himself on her perfection for a moment. But she wasn’t content for him to study her with just his eyes, and she arched her back, presenting herself to him in a manner he couldn’t refuse. With a groan, he pulled one tight bud into his mouth.
“Yes,” she gasped, running a hand through his hair and clutching him closer.
As he licked across one, and then the other, he dragged his hand down her body until it reached the juncture of her legs. He found her wet, and he bit back an agonized groan. He ran a finger up her slit, rubbing the little bud at the crown of her sex with her moisture and grinning when she angled her hips until she pressed into his hand.
“Show me how much you want it,” he whispered into her ear as he continued his ministrations. Her intoxicating scent left him lightheaded.
Or perhaps all the blood in his body congregating in his groin was the cause.
Alethea ground down harder into his hand, whimpering and shaking as she chased her release. Just when he felt her start to quiver, he thrust a finger inside her sheath and experienced a surge of triumph when she cried out and her body clutched him eagerly. His cock was fiercely envious of his hand.
She rested her head against his chest as she panted, and he gently laid her back on the bed. He divested himself of his own clothes as quickly as he could manage, his movements clumsy in the face of his intense arousal. The tepid night air stroked over his nude body and cleared some of the lustful haze that clouded his senses. He pulled her night rail completely off, trailing his fingers down, and then up the backs of her legs. He grasped her knees and widened them, her languid state making the maneuver easy. His heartbeat thundering loudly in his ears, he nestled between them. She peered up at him from beneath half-lidded eyes, her fiery red hair pulled loose from her braid and spread out against the pillow. She looked like all his fantasies. All his ill-repressed hopes and dreams.
She looked like his.
…
Rational thought was beyond her.
With small tremors still streaking through her body, Alethea sensed Declan remove her night rail before settling between her thighs. She loved the feel of his firm hips situated there, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him closer, he chuckled, although it sounded strangled.
“Allie-mine, give me a moment and then I’ll help you wrap your gloriously long legs around me.”
“Why do you need
a moment?” she asked, running fingers through the dark hair that trailed down from his belly button. She didn’t miss how his shaft pulsed against his abdomen when she dragged a nail against his skin.
“Because I thought you might enjoy this,” he said, grasping his erection and rubbing the smooth tip against her slit.
A deep moan rose from her toes and she trembled with the wicked sensations he was subjecting her to. “Oh God, Dec, I…I…”
She couldn’t finish, the delicious movements erasing all thought.
After a long, exquisite minute, Declan paused at her entrance, his frame suddenly tense. “This may hurt, my love, but only for a moment.” He grasped one knee and spread her legs even wider, breeching her as he did so.
She willed herself to relax, but couldn’t help but stiffen when it became painful.
He lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair off her face, running his knuckles over her cheek, down her neck, and to her breasts, where he smoothed his rough palms over the tender tips. She grew wetter around him and closed her eyes as she lost herself in the feeling.
Declan chose that moment to thrust his hips forward, and a sharp, stinging pain shot through her body. A whimper fell from her lips.
“I’m so sorry.” He kissed her deeply. “Give your body a moment to adjust, and the pain should dissipate.”
Alethea gritted her teeth and nodded, and he quietly nuzzled her jaw and neck with his chin until the tension slowly leached from her body. He angled back to look into her eyes, and whatever he glimpsed there seemed to relieve him, for he smiled.
“Now, let me love you,” he growled, sliding slowly from her body before thrusting back in, the motion sleek and sure.
She gripped his lean hips as sparks of otherworldly pleasure shot from the spot their bodies were joined and emitted throughout her body. She curled her toes and arched her head into the mattress beneath her, clenching her eyes shut as the crescendo of bliss gathered inside of her. Thanks to the lessons in pleasure he’d taught her, she knew what was building, but the intensity was so much more than she was prepared for.
She opened her eyes to find Declan staring down at her, a possessive light in his black eyes. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead, his lips pulled back over his teeth as he stroked in and out of her. “God, you feel…like heaven,” he gasped between thrusts.
His words were like a douse of alcohol to the fire of her arousal, and her breasts pressed against the smooth, granite planes of his chest as she clutched him to her. When he ground his hips against hers, she suddenly shrieked as she was thrown into the sky, fireworks detonating behind her eyelids.
As she trembled uncontrollably beneath him, Declan stiffened in her arms, his guttural groan vibrating against her collarbone. Once his body relaxed minutes later, he pulled from her gently and sank down next to her. His body and arms curved protectively around her.
She kissed his arm, which lay across her breasts. “That was…it was…”
“Magnificent,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to her temple.
“How soon can we do it again?” she asked, startling a laugh from him.
He ran a calloused hand down her side, raising gooseflesh in its wake, and smacked her bottom. “My lusty wench. I want nothing more than to make love to you every second of the day, but I’ll need just a moment if I’m to entertain you all night.”
“All night?” she asked tentatively. The prospect was tempting.
Despite her years of proper decorum, she was determined to perfect wickedness with all the practice of a dedicated acolyte. “I suppose I can be patient.”
They lay in silence, offering and receiving soft caresses. For though they shared no words, their bodies shared sentiments of their own.
When Alethea sensed Declan’s hard shaft press against her thigh, she turned in his arms and plied him with a series of scorching kisses that left little doubt of what she wanted. What she needed.
He draped her leg over his hip and entered her with one strong thrust, and she cried out his name.
The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers when they finally collapsed, panting and spent. Alethea’s arms lay limp above her on the pillow, and Declan rested his head on her breasts, his talented fingers stroking across her belly.
“Will it always be like this?”
His hand paused. “It will be for a long, long while. It will take an eternity for me to have my fill of you. If I do at all.”
A lifetime of passionate moments with Declan made her breath hitch. If they could find a way around their past, their future promised to be glorious.
And if she wanted to embrace that future with him, she had a task left to accomplish. She was unsure if it was the right thing to do, but she wanted no secrets between them. She hoped, fervently, they could work through the turmoil ahead. Together.
Collecting all her strength, and praying her legs didn’t give way, she kissed Declan’s head and sat up.
He uttered a disgruntled sigh to be jostled from his comfortable position. “Where are you going?”
She blushed when she noticed how avidly he watched her. Steeling her spine, she crossed to where her reticule had been discarded on the floor, knowing he had a generous view of her bare backside. She refused to be embarrassed. Indeed, she felt attractive—decadently so.
“I came here for two reasons tonight. One was to apologize.” She grew slightly lightheaded but willed herself to continue. Untying the reticule strings, she bit her lip as she reached inside and grabbed the book. She extended it to him with a trembling hand. “The other reason was to give you this.”
Declan frowned but accepted her offering. He turned it over in his hands, his brows furrowed. “What is it?”
“My mother’s diary.”
“Why are you giving me her diary?”
She pulled the sheet up to shield herself and stared at the familiar leather cover, unable to meet his penetrating stare. “It contains information you need to know. There’s a note tucked near the back.” She licked her lips. “I think you should read it.”
Declan glanced at her curiously but followed her directive. She clenched her eyes shut and dropped her chin to her chest as she waited with bated breath.
The sound of crumpled parchment was the only indication Declan had finished reading. Her heart thundered in her ears as she awaited his reaction.
“I still don’t understand why you’re sharing it with me.” He slipped the note into its spot between the pages and closed the book, smoothing a hand over its cover. “It seems as if its contents should be known only by you and Finlay.”
Still, Alethea couldn’t look at him. With a sigh, she said, “Read the entry.”
Declan raised a brow but obeyed her, his deep voice filling the room.
March 1816
I stumbled upon another meeting between Alastair and the vicomte earlier today. They were discussing how to handle concerns arising from a pool of investors. This caught my attention because Alastair and the Frenchman had always done business together directly, and had never included others. Not even Darington. So I hid and overheard the vicomte ask how Alastair planned to settle it. I watched as Alastair held up a bound ledger. “With this,” he said. He explained how he’d filled it with fictitious calculations and figures. Alastair said he’d slip it into Darington’s study when they met later that day.
I’m appalled he would treat his oldest friend in such a way. But whom can I tell? It would be Alastair’s word against my own and his wrath would be frightening. Once again, it appears he will not be held to pay for his sins.
Declan studied their clasped hands for several minutes, his throat working as he swallowed back ugly words, she imagined. But he never let go of her hand.
“I’m sure you’d hoped for a proper, well-bred, well-connected bride to pave your reintroduction to society. W-with this”—she said, gesturing to the diary—“I’d understand if you’d rather not see me again.”
“You would?” Declan as
ked, his face devoid of expression.
“No!” She spit out the word despite herself. “I’d ha—I’d be quite angry.” She’d also be devastated.
Declan chuckled, but it sounded dry and coarse. “Good thing I have no intention of doing such a ridiculous thing.”
She blinked. “You don’t? But my father—”
“Your father is not you. You are not responsible.” He lifted their connected hands and kissed her knuckles. “Plus, I’m already a scandalous duke, so shouldn’t I have an equally scandalous duchess?”
Exhaling deeply, she said, “There is something else I need to tell you.”
Declan quirked his brow.
“Do you remember how I sent you a note, asking to meet? And then I left your offices before I told you why?” When he nodded, Alethea licked her lips. “Well, I also stumbled across my father in conversation with a French gentleman. He admitted that Connington had paid him for my hand in marriage. He also…he also complained that the men he’d hired to kill someone had failed.”
Declan shot upright, his jaw slackening. “What did he say exactly?”
“He said all the men had to do was stop the carriage, kill their target, and make it look like a robbery.”
An awful silence seemed to thunder around them, and Alethea twisted her hands in the sheets to feel grounded.
“He was talking about me.” Declan stared unseeing at the wall, his voice toneless.
“I know.” She studied his face. “What do you intend to do?”
After a pregnant pause, he reached out to cradle her jaw in his hands. “I intend to marry you.” He pressed his lips firmly to hers, and her body responded in kind, growing loose and heated, while her heart filled with relief. “And then I’m going to have my revenge.”
“But how?”
His gaze slid to the diary that lay forgotten on the rumpled sheets.
“You’ll reveal the truth?” A knot of dread suffocated her.
Declan shook his head furiously. “The book contains proof your father and the vicomte schemed to not only defraud investors, but to also implicate my father in the crime. Since I haven’t been able to determine who sent Albert that blasted note about some mysterious ledgers, I don’t see how I can pass up this opportunity to finally see justice done.” He ran a hand through his hair. “For twelve years this shame has clung to my family’s name. My father took his own life over it. I have to see that the Earl of Rockhaven is destroyed.”
To Love a Scandalous Duke (Once Upon a Scandal) Page 20