Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2)

by Carole Mortimer

  Nothing else mattered to her now. Not the past. Certainly not the future. Here and now was all that mattered. With Benedict …

  ‘I was unsure as to whether you were being serious …’ Benedict could not take his eyes off Genevieve as she began to remove her clothes in readiness for climbing into the bathtub where a footman had placed it in front of the fire, before Jenkins returned to supervise several maids as they poured in the steaming hot water in readiness for Genevieve’s bath.

  Maids who had sent Benedict curious and sideways glances as he lay in their mistress’s bed, before Jenkins had ushered them from the bedchamber and closed the door firmly behind them.

  At which time Genevieve had risen gracefully to her feet, letting down her hair and stepping out of her slippers, before she began to unbutton and remove her gown.

  She wore only her chemise now as she glanced across at him between thick dark lashes, her hair a silky red-gold curtain about the slenderness of her shoulders. ‘You would rather I bathed elsewhere?’

  ‘Not in the least.’ Benedict eased himself up slightly and made himself comfortable against the half-dozen or so pillows piled behind him, the broth and pudding having surprisingly gone a long way to restoring much of his strength. Certainly enough that he was thoroughly enjoying watching Genevieve prepare for her bath!

  She gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘In that case I shall continue to undress …’

  That Benedict found it difficult to breathe, as Genevieve slipped the straps of her chemise down her arms before allowing it to fall on to the carpet at her feet, owed very little to his injury and all to the fact that she was now completely naked apart from delicate white stockings held in place with silky white garters adorned with tiny blue bows.

  Her red-gold hair cascaded in wild abandon about her shoulders and the firmness of her uptilting breasts, tipped by rosy-red nipples that pouted invitingly through those silky tresses. Her waist was slender, hips softly curvaceous, red-gold curls at their apex.

  Benedict’s breathing became even more laboured as she perched facing him on the edge of the stool before the dressing table, allowing him glimpses of her most intimate part as she raised first one leg and then the other as she slowly removed her garters and stockings before once again standing up.

  The next hour proved to be equally as tortuous for Benedict—and arousing!—as Genevieve’s breasts swayed temptingly as she stepped slowly into the bathtub before sitting down facing him, the water lapping against those berry-red nipples as she slowly washed her hair before lathering each and every inch of her body with perfumed soap. Her shoulders and arms, her breasts, first one leg and then the other, as she lathered the soap along their length before she stood up to turn her attention to between her silky thighs.

  ‘I believe I am in danger of suffering a relapse!’ Benedict groaned, his cock hard and aching as he watched her soapy fingers sweep down and then dip into those delicate folds.

  Genevieve’s eyes were deeply blue and sultry as she stood in the bathtub, looking across at him between the darkness of her lashes. ‘Shall I call for the doctor?’

  ‘I believe the attentions of my nurse might be more beneficial to my present ailment,’ he assured gruffly.

  ‘Indeed …?’ She arched her brows as she stepped out of the tub to wrap the dampness of her hair in a towel before picking up another to begin dabbing delicately at the moisture coating her breasts.

  ‘Genevieve …!’ The evidence of the fierceness of Benedict’s erection now tented the bedclothes.

  Still she made no move to come to him. ‘I am not sure you are well enough as yet for those sort of attentions.’ She turned away from him slightly as she continued to dry her arms, revealing the slender slope of her back and the delicate curve of her bottom.

  A bottom Benedict longed to sink his teeth into!

  The teeth he now gritted. ‘I believe, if I may remain on my back, that I am more than well enough!’ He threw off the weight of the bedcovers, his cock so engorged and hard it now throbbed more painfully than the wound in his side.

  ‘That sounds … interesting.’ She removed the towel from about the dampness of her hair before dropping both towels on the carpet and slowly walking towards him, Aphrodite incarnate as her sultry gaze fixed upon his pulsing arousal, her breasts high and nipples pouting invitingly, those silky red curls still damp between her thighs as she climbed on to the bed before moving to straddle his thighs with her own. ‘Mmm, very interesting,’ she murmured huskily as her fingers caressed the pulsing length of him before she slowly lowered her head so that Benedict might draw her down even further as he finally captured her lips with his own.

  Genevieve had believed she might never be kissed by Benedict again, might never be with him like this again, and channelled all of that worry and fear into the intensity of the kiss they now shared, the depth of the desire she felt to be one with him. A desire Benedict more than shared if the throb of his erection nudging insistently between her thighs was any indication.

  She briefly raised her mouth from his to look down at him searchingly. ‘You are sure this will not hurt you?’ The darkness of his gaze looked feverish and the harsh planes of his cheeks were flushed.

  ‘I was never more sure of anything in my life,’ he assured her gruffly, forcefully, even as his hands on her hips raised her in readiness over his straining erection.

  Genevieve’s gaze deliberately held his as she reached down between them, her fingers encircling that silken hardness as she guided him between her moist and swollen lips, her groan one of pleasure as she felt that hardness gliding smoothly into her, one slow inch at a time, filling her, stretching her with an intensity of pleasure she had never imagined existed.

  ‘I am not hurting you …?’ Benedict looked up at her concernedly.

  She laughed exultantly. ‘Not in the least!’ To prove the truth of her words she deliberately thrust her hips down, taking all of him inside her, his shaft so long and so thick that it claimed her so completely and felt as if he touched her womb. ‘It feels wonderful, Benedict,’ she assured breathlessly. ‘It is still not causing you discomfort …?’ She hesitated as she looked down at him anxiously, sure that she would die if he were to say yes and they had to stop.

  ‘Not in the least,’ he echoed her own words even as his hands moved to grasp her hips once again and he began to guide her up the length of his shaft before slowly easing her down again, setting a rhythm that was pleasurable to them both.

  And causing Genevieve to gasp anew at the intensity of that pleasure. ‘It feels so wonderful, Benedict! So gloriously wonderful!’ Her back arched as she began to move faster, harder into the rhythm of those thrusts, the pleasure between her thighs, the heat, becoming deeper, higher, with each pulsing thrust of Benedict’s shaft. ‘I—Benedict, I—’ She broke off to let out a keening cry as Benedict latched on to one of her roused nipples as her breasts bobbed in front of him, suckling her deeply into the warmth of his mouth, and sending her over the edge of that pleasure in a release so deep and intense Genevieve thought she might faint from the ecstasy that now so completely overwhelmed her.

  ‘Again!’ Benedict groaned harshly just minutes later, nothing else mattering, existing, as he thrust deeply up and into Genevieve as his own release became imminent amidst the continued clenching and unclenching of her inner muscles. ‘God …!’ he cried out as that release claimed him with a fierceness he had never experienced before, pumping hotly, deeply inside her as her second climax prolonged and deepened their pleasure to the point that Benedict believed she might be an angel after all, that he must have died and gone to heaven …

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘I am sorry for disturbing you, your Grace.’ Jenkins sounded slightly put out himself some ten or fifteen minutes later as he spoke to them from the hallway outside the closed and locked door to Genevieve’s bedchamber. ‘But his lordship’s godfather, the Earl of Dartmouth, is here and is most insistent upon seeing him.’

/>   ‘Damn it to hell!’ Benedict muttered as Genevieve began to stir in his arms as she lay snuggled next to his uninjured side.

  ‘Just a moment, Jenkins!’ she called out huskily as she glanced up at Benedict teasingly. ‘Lord Cargill only wishes to assure himself of your well-being, I am sure.’

  Benedict scowled. ‘Then he should have waited until morning and called at a decent time. Unless, of course,’ he added slowly, ‘he has urgent news regarding the whereabouts of the two servants from my parents’ estate.’

  Genevieve’s eyes widened. ‘You spoke with Lord Cargill on the subject?’

  ‘Six days ago, before I visited William Forster,’ Benedict answered, still distractedly.

  ‘I realise that Lord Cargill is your godfather, but I had not realised your friendship was such a close one that you confided such personal matters to him.’ She looked at him expectantly.

  ‘He is so much more than that, love.’ Benedict gave a rueful grimace. ‘But until I have spoken to Lord Cargill, and received his permission, I am afraid I am unable confide any more of that situation to you.’

  ‘That all sounds very mysterious …’

  He made a face. ‘Tedious, as it happens, love, very tedious. But, nevertheless, it is not just my secret to tell.’

  ‘Then I will ask no more on the subject,’ she assured briskly.

  ‘Would you mind very much, love, if Jenkins were to bring my godfather up here?’ Benedict gave a self-derisive grimace as he attempted to sit up and failed. ‘I am afraid our lovemaking has fatigued me more than I had thought.’

  ‘Of course you must speak to him here.’ Genevieve threw back the bedcovers before standing up to collect and pull on her robe. ‘I will instruct Jenkins to bring him up to you immediately and then go through to my adjoining dressing room.’

  Benedict gave her a lazy smile. ‘Have I remarked recently on what a beautiful woman you are?’

  Genevieve chuckled softly as she bent to brush her lips lightly against his. ‘You may have mentioned it once or twice this evening.’

  ‘Only once or twice?’ He gave a shake of his head. ‘Then I shall tell you so again, or more preferably show you, as soon as Dartmouth has departed,’ he promised huskily.

  Genevieve touched his cheek lightly. ‘I believe you may already have exerted yourself enough for one evening, Benedict.’

  He reached up to clasp her hand in his, the darkness of his gaze compelling as he looked up at her. ‘We have much to talk about, to discuss, Genevieve, and I promise we will do so as soon as my godfather has gone.’

  ‘I believe I should like that,’ she assured him.

  ‘As shall I.’ He nodded.

  Genevieve straightened slowly. ‘I will be in the next room if you should need me.’

  Benedict released her hand reluctantly. ‘The sooner I have spoken to Dartmouth then the sooner the two of us may talk together. And, Genevieve …?’ He halted her as she crossed to the door leading out into the hallway. ‘Thank you,’ he added huskily.

  Her brows rose. ‘For what?’

  ‘My life, for one thing.’

  She gave a shake of her head. ‘Any one of your friends would have done the same as I.’

  He eyed her quizzically. ‘And is that what you are, Genevieve, my friend?’

  ‘Amongst other things,’ she said softly.

  Benedict nodded. ‘And it is those “other things” I wish to discuss with you as soon as we can be alone again.’

  Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat and her heart gave a leap in her chest at the warmth of emotion she saw in the darkness of Benedict’s eyes. At the same time as an inner voice warned her not to read too much into Benedict’s words or his expression; he was newly recovered from a fever resulting from the bullet wound in his side and the two of them had just made love together—was it any wonder that he was feeling somewhat emotional?

  Her gaze dropped from meeting his in case he should see the love she felt for him shining there. ‘Perhaps we should wait for any further conversation until you are feeling better?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Exactly as it sounds.’ She shrugged the slenderness of her shoulders. ‘I am sure that your health will now improve by leaps and bounds, but until it does we should perhaps also refrain from any further … exertion.’

  Benedict scowled darkly. ‘I do not at all like the sound of that.’

  She smiled ruefully. ‘You are a gentleman far too fond of having his own way!’

  He nodded tersely. ‘Something I have every intention of reminding you of the moment Dartmouth has departed.’

  Genevieve was still smiling slightly as she unlocked the door and gave the apologetic Jenkins his instructions in regard to Lord Cargill, the smile only fading from her lips once she had gone through to the adjoining dressing room and closed the door behind her.

  She loved and was in love with Benedict so much that she could not now imagine her life without him in it. Without the wonder of the lovemaking they had so recently shared. And which she longed to share with him again. And again.

  But she did not want Benedict to mistake the gratitude he now felt towards her for anything other than what it was, could not bear it if he were to imagine it was more than that, only to realise in a matter of days, or possibly weeks, that he was bored with her and by her, and wished to end the relationship.

  She wanted him to be fully recovered before the two of them spoke so intimately again …

  ‘I am hoping you have information in regard to the two servants who left my parents’ estate.’ Benedict spoke tersely to his godfather in his impatience to be alone again with Genevieve, chafing at even this brief interruption to their intimacy for whatever reason. Which, considering his parents’ death had been the driving force behind his every action this past ten years, was telling indeed …

  Eric Cargill smiled wryly as he eyed Benedict from the doorway of the bedchamber. ‘Could I not just have been anxious to see for myself that you are recovering?’

  Benedict gave an uninterested shrug. ‘I have received a bullet wound before now.’

  ‘So you have.’ His godfather closed the door softly behind him before walking further into the bedchamber. ‘What I should like to know is how you managed to prevent this one from being fatal?’

  Benedict blinked. ‘You sound disappointed that it was not?’

  ‘Not at all,’ the older man assured him jovially. ‘After all, a relapse of your condition will be just as easily explained and accepted, I am sure.’

  Benedict became very still beneath the bedcovers. ‘Explained to and accepted by whom?’

  ‘Any of your friends who are interested enough to ask.’ The earl looked calmly about the bedchamber, his top lip curling with distaste as he saw the evidence of Genevieve’s bathtub beside the fire and the damp towels that she had allowed to fall to the floor. ‘No doubt the solicitous Duchess of Woollerton will now be amongst that select few?’

  All of Benedict’s senses were on the alert now as a dreadful—an unbelievable!—truth began to assail him. A truth he found so unacceptable that every part of him screamed out in denial. ‘Genevieve has been kind enough to nurse me herself these past six days and nights, yes.’

  The earl gave him a knowing glance. ‘I believe we both know she has done more than nurse you this evening.’

  Benedict’s jaw tightened. ‘I advise that you desist from making any further personal remarks in regard to Genevieve!’

  ‘Like that, is it?’ The older man eyed him derisively. ‘She is a pretty little thing, I give you that.’ His expression hardened. ‘But far too intelligent than is good for either herself or you, I am afraid.’

  The cold knot that had been forming in Benedict’s chest now turned to one of ice. ‘Whatever your business is with me, it does not involve Genevieve.’

  All pretence of joviality left Dartmouth’s expression. ‘She became involved the moment she decided to interfere in something w
hich does not concern her.’

  Benedict’s stillness was now one of readiness rather than surprise or shock. ‘You are referring to her suspicions in regard to those two servants who left my father’s estate so soon after the murders?’

  The earl gave a weary sigh as he nodded. ‘As I said, intelligent as well as beautiful. An unfortunate combination in this instance.’

  Benedict looked at his godfather as if for the first time, seeing past the jovial exterior he usually presented to society, the quietly steady man of politics he presented to the House, or the briskly efficient spymaster he had secretly been for the Crown for so many years.

  ‘What happened to them?’ he pressed softly.

  Cargill shrugged. ‘It was as your lady no doubt suspected: they are both dead.’

  ‘You killed them?’

  The older man gave an inclination of his head. ‘I arranged for them to die, yes.’

  ‘Why?’ Benedict demanded harshly.

  ‘Why did I arrange to have the servants killed? Or why did I kill your parents?’ the older man prompted mildly.

  Benedict’s stomach dropped as his worst fear was realised. ‘Did you kill my parents?’

  ‘Of course,’ Dartmouth confirmed unconcernedly.

  Benedict’s jaw was clenched so tightly he could barely speak. ‘Then I wish you to answer both those questions.’

  The earl shrugged. ‘Unfortunately, from something I let slip in conversation, your father realised that I had been a double agent all those years and decided to confront me with it when I rode over from my own estate to see him one day that summer. The two servants?’ He grimaced. ‘They both knew that I had visited your father that day and I could not take the risk that a bribe would suffice in preventing them from mentioning it to you or anyone else.’

  The ice in Benedict’s chest began to melt and be replaced by a fury that was as hot as it was deadly. ‘You killed four innocent people in order to hide your own treasonous activities?’