Still, what was she doing, tempting a man who could lead her only to ruin? Why, he’d thought her capable of murder!
Yet she wanted him. Needed him. Wished to climb all over him, to find out what he felt like beneath his clothes. To have him inside her.
And not just his fingers, like this afternoon. No, she wanted him entirely, filling her up until the past was no more. It might be only temporary, but for tonight she wanted to know how it felt to be desired for who she was, by a man whom she actually desired in return.
She tugged at his coat until he shrugged it off, and in return he stripped off her wrapper and tossed it over a nearby chair. Now she wore only her nightdress, and she didn’t even care.
“You realize this is madness. Pure insanity,” he said even as he worked loose the buttons of her nightdress. Perhaps he didn’t care either.
“Is it?” When he spread hot kisses down inside the opened placket, she nearly fainted from the anticipation of what he meant to do. “Feels perfectly sane to me.”
With a heartfelt groan, he seized one breast in his mouth, and she melted. He teased and nibbled, licked and sucked. Lord, she was on fire. Her nipple ached from the decadent enjoyment she’d barely sampled before. She clutched his head close, praying for more, and he answered her prayers by treating her other breast to the same wonderful treatment.
He clapped his large hands around her hips and began to caress her curves as if trying to memorize every one. All the while his mouth plundered her breasts like a ravisher of old.
Except she didn’t feel ravished. She felt worshipped.
“You taste like honey,” he murmured, “like the angel you are.” To her vast annoyance, he drew back to gaze into her eyes. “Which is one more reason I should stop. You deserve better.”
“Stop saying that!” The words frustrated her. “I don’t care what I deserve, who I deserve.” She unbuttoned his waistcoat, and though he cursed under his breath, she didn’t stop until she had it undone. “Every time you touch some part of me that my depraved uncle tried to sully with his words, you dim the memory. When you caress me, I no longer feel dirty; when you kiss me, I no longer remember his slobbering mouth on my lips. You have no idea what a gift that is.”
She lifted her gaze. “I have no idea what the future will bring for me—if I’ll ever find a husband or be with a man who makes me . . . yearn and soar as you do.” Fisting her hands in his waistcoat, she said, “So I want my first time to be with you.”
Though an unholy fire leapt in his face, he didn’t return to what he’d been doing. “Sweetheart—”
“No!” She dragged his waistcoat off. “Don’t say whatever you mean to—about how I should keep my virtue intact or whatever rot true gentlemen are schooled to tell a respectable female like me.” She tossed his waistcoat aside. “Do you desire me?”
She held her breath, half afraid to hear the answer, but his face showed it all. “You know that I do.” As if to prove it, he tightened his grip on her hips.
“Then take me to bed.”
“You will come to regret it.”
“I won’t.” She gazed at him uneasily. “But will you?”
His eyes turned a molten blue-green. “How could I? You’re giving me everything I want and asking nothing in return. Unfortunately, the consequences aren’t the same for a man as they are for a woman.” He caught her head in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “What if you have a child?”
“I thought one could prevent such things.”
That seemed to surprise him. “You did, did you?” He slid his hands down to her shoulders. “How, pray tell?”
She met his gaze, startled by the glint of amusement in it. “I have no idea.” She worked to loosen the elaborate knot of his cravat. “But when I refused Uncle Armie’s offer, he said if I was worried about bearing . . . a bastard, there were ways to stop that from occurring. He just didn’t bother to tell me what they were.”
His amusement vanished. “God, the man really was an arse.”
“Was it a lie?”
Lifting his eyes heavenward, he muttered, “It’s not that. There are ways, but—”
“You don’t know what they are.” With a sigh, she gripped either end of his cravat. “I assumed you would, given your reputation, but if you don’t, perhaps we could figure it out together. I mean, I’m fairly familiar with how breeding is managed for dogs and horses.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of your extensive knowledge in that area,” he said, looking as if he were choking on the words.
“But the only way I know of to prevent animals from breeding is not to let them mate in the first place.”
“Mate?” he echoed, one eyebrow shooting up. “Is that how you see what we would do together? If we were to do anything?”
“No, of course not. We’d be sharing a bed.”
He shot her a black look. “Sharing a bed,” he repeated.
She felt her cheeks heat. Blast it, she hated her tendency to blush. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“What I want is to make love to you. What I want is to show you what it feels like to need someone so desperately that nothing else makes sense, that the mere thought of seeing that person makes one’s heart race.” He caught her by the waist and pulled her close. “What I want is to banish your uncle’s memory from your thoughts.”
“That’s what I want, too!” she cried, delighted that he spoke of desperation, although she knew it was a mere thing of the moment.
“Except that afterward—”
“I don’t care about afterward. If you do know how to prevent my bearing a child, there’s no problem, right? We can just . . .” She leaned up to brush his lips with hers and whisper, “Be together in my bed.”
He stared at her with eyes like the churning river nearby. “You make it hard to resist you, my dear Beatrice.”
The words were a balm to her wounded vanity. No man had ever called her irresistible before. “Good,” she said, her heart in her throat. “Because you do the same to me.”
This time when he kissed her, he didn’t stop. Still kissing her, he backed her up to the kitchen table, then took her by surprise when he lifted her onto it, his eyes gleaming at her. “I need sustenance, sweetheart.”
“Oh! I forgot about your food—I do hope it’s enough.”
When she tried to scoot out of his arms to get it, he grabbed her back, laughing. “Not that kind of sustenance.” He lifted her nightdress to her knees, then paused. “Are you sure your brother will be gone until morning?”
“Early in the morning, but yes.”
“So we have the entire night together.”
She caught her breath. “If you wish.”
“I wish, I promise you.” The look in his eyes said exactly what sorts of things he promised, and her excitement ramped up just wondering what those might be. He tugged her forward until she was close to the table’s edge. “It will take me all night and more for a proper lovemaking.”
“Well, then,” she said as she set about undoing the buttons of his shirt, “since we don’t have ‘more,’ we’ll have to settle for an improper lovemaking.”
Chuckling, he dropped to his knees. “Well put. Which is my cue for taking my sustenance.” Catching her by surprise, he pushed her legs wide. “I’m going to taste you, all right?”
Ohhh, that’s what he meant by sustenance. And now he was staring right at her privates, heating her blood and rousing her body.
Especially down there.
He glanced up at her. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?”
She certainly trusted him when it came to bedsport, no matter what he claimed about having a pristine reputation. She bobbed her head.
That seemed to be all the answer he needed, for hunger leapt in his face. “Then close your eyes. Just concentrate on how it feels.”
The moment she did so, he began kissing her inner thigh, little nibbling kisses that made her squirm and ache for . . . a release like the one he’d given her i
n the clearing earlier. The higher his mouth went, the hotter it grew until her blood felt like steam and her body like jelly.
She began to moan. And that was when he used his fingers to part her curls so he could lick—lick—her tender flesh!
“Grey!” Her eyes shot open and she grabbed his head. “Dear Lord, Grey . . .”
Now his eyes were closed. He said nothing since his mouth was otherwise engaged . . . in kissing and licking and sucking her in a most provocative manner.
Then his tongue slid inside her, and she arched up on the table’s edge. “I don’t think this is how . . . lovemaking is done,” she managed to gasp. “Not from what I . . . understand.” Surely he needed to use a different part of his body to—
All thought abruptly left her mind. Because he was . . . oh, heavens, what he was doing with his mouth and . . . and teeth was . . . wonderful. She wanted more of that. She pushed against him, and his tongue caresses grew more intense. Soon she was keening and swaying until with a cry she vaulted over into madness.
He gave her only a moment before he wiped his lips on her nightdress, then drew back, his face wrought with tension.
“Where’s your bedchamber?” he asked.
Too replete with pleasure to think, she stared at him. “Why?”
“I’ll embarrass myself again if we don’t go there now. And I’m not about to take you for the first time on a kitchen table. So where is it?”
“Upstairs.”
He groaned. “Of course it is.”
Rising from the floor, he reached behind her to swig some claret from the glass she’d set down. Then he swept her into his arms and carried her through to the entranceway. As he climbed the staircase, she grabbed his neck to keep from falling. Not that he seemed likely to drop her. Dear Lord, he must be very strong to be managing this.
“I’m quite capable of walking, you know,” she said, though something about being carried up by him sent a thrill through her.
As he reached the top and saw the three open doorways, he growled, “Which one?”
All she could do was point, still drowning in the amazing aftermath of his carnal caresses. He hurried through the doorway she’d indicated, then set her down on her bed so he could pull off his cravat and unfasten the fall of his trousers.
As she knelt on the bed, she noticed his member swelling in his drawers through the open fall. It should have frightened her. After this afternoon, it did not. She’d never imagined being able to arouse such a man, who could have any woman he pleased.
Uncle Armie had been aroused by anything in skirts, but she’d watched Grey with the maids, and even the pretty ones hadn’t drawn his gaze. She began to think he might really prefer her. Well, at least he preferred her to the maids.
His heated gaze seared her as he kicked off his shoes. “Take off your nightdress, sweetheart. I want to see you naked.”
Uh-oh. It was one thing to let him see parts of her at a time, but to allow him to see her plump bottom and freckled back and small bosom altogether . . .
“Heavens, but you’re bossy.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I haven’t even seen you naked yet.”
“You want me to go first?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Very well.”
He shucked off his trousers, which left him in only his stockings, his prominently bulging drawers, and his shirt, which he dragged off over his head and tossed aside, too.
Her breath got stuck in her throat. For a duke with leisure time to spare, he certainly had a magnificent chest, with firmly defined muscles and a patch of black, curly hair spreading between them before narrowing to a thin line that led down to a lean stomach so perfect she wanted to bite it.
Bite it? Had she really had such a thought?
“Like what you see?” he asked in a low rumble, reminding her of their first kiss.
She nodded, incapable of forming words at the moment.
A smug smile flashed over his face. “Want to see more?”
“Yes, please,” she choked out.
“Then take off your nightdress, sweetheart.”
“But—”
“Let me guess—you’re balking because you have warts on your belly.”
She eyed him askance. “Don’t be silly—no one gets warts there.”
His eyes twinkled as he pulled off his stockings. “You have the pox then?”
“Of course not!” She huffed out a breath. “I only . . . it’s merely that . . . well . . . I’m no more a beauty naked than I am clothed.”
Just like that, his amusement vanished. “Who the hell told you that you weren’t a beauty?” When she chewed on her lower lip, his face darkened. “Ah, right. Your arse of an uncle, I suppose.” Walking up to where she stood by the bed, he caught her chin in his hand. “Let’s get this straight once and for all. You are not merely a beauty—you’re the queen of beauties.”
She glared at him, her throat aching at the blatant untruth. “There’s no need to lie, Grey. You’re already in my bedchamber. It’s not as if I’m going to kick you out.”
“I’m not lying.” He scowled. “Didn’t we agree to always speak the truth to each other?”
“We did.”
“And haven’t I done so?”
She cocked her head. “You didn’t tell me you were investigating my brother.”
“Because you didn’t ask. Not once have I lied to your face. I’ve probed, I’ve urged, and I’ve coaxed. But I haven’t lied. I’m telling you the truth now, as I always have.” He skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “With enough fine clothes and subtle cosmetics and a lady’s maid to dress her hair to greatest advantage, anybody can be a beauty.”
He stared her down. “But only a few have beauty bred in the bone. And you, my dear lady, even in your mourning clothes, with your lovely locks simply dressed, are one of those. I daresay once you have your debut, in your fine gown, with your hair dressed properly, you will be positively majestic.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “Indeed, I shudder to think how many men I shall have to thrash just for looking at you.”
“Grey . . .” she said, hardly able to fathom his compliments.
“Take it off.” His eyes shone a smoky green in the firelight. “Let me see what those fellows will never get the chance to. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
The words were nearly a promise. She wanted to believe him, even if he only meant it for this one night. So she took off her nightdress. What else could she do? She wanted him in her bed, and he wanted her naked.
Though if there had been even a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, she would have bounded out of there, naked or no. But the only thing she saw was heat and want and need. And desire. Lots and lots of desire. He skimmed his gaze down her neck past her shoulder to her breasts, lingering there only a moment before he took in the rest of her, including the part between her legs that still throbbed from his ministrations.
Then he lifted his eyes to her face and cupped her head in his hand. “Majestic, I tell you.”
He bent his head as if to kiss her, but she jerked away. “My turn,” she said, and reached for the buttons of his drawers.
His eyes solemn, he caught her hand. “Tell me one thing—are you doing this only to drive out memories of your uncle?”
She considered the question, unsure what to say. That was part of it, yes, but not by any means all. Yet she was afraid to give him the real answer—that she was starting to fall in love with him.
So she settled on another perfectly honest reason for wanting him to take her to bed. “No. I’m doing this for me.”
Apparently, he recognized the truth of that, because with a shuddering breath that resonated through her, he quickly unbuttoned and shucked off his drawers. “God help us both if that’s a lie.”
She got only a glimpse of the heavy ballocks between his legs and his rather large staff, thrust out with typical masculine impudence, before Grey was tumbling her down upon the bed.
In moments he had her panting for him ag
ain. With only a few caresses of her breasts and a stroke or two between her legs, he made her as eager for him as he obviously was for her. Which only proved how shameless she was, at least when it came to him.
And now at last he was . . . he was . . . forging up inside her? That was the only word she could think of for how it felt to have that . . . massive “yard” of his pushing steadily forward.
She was rather disappointed. She’d expected something different, something more . . . well . . . glorious. And she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him for reassurance, since their position was—“It’s rather awkward, isn’t it?”
He made a strangled sound she would have sworn was a laugh. Then he brushed her temple with his lips and whispered, “That only means . . . I’m doing it wrong.”
“How is that possible? You must have had plenty of practice.” All at once his remarks about how his reputation was undeserved flooded her mind, and she jerked her gaze up to him in shock. “You have done this before, right?”
She knew he was laughing when he bent his head to hers, his shoulders shaking. “A few times, yes. Just not with an untried maiden.” Then his shoulders stilled, and his voice gentled. “And certainly never with a woman I wanted as much as I do you.”
The tender words softened her, which oddly enough, made it feel like his flesh inside her wasn’t quite so intrusive. “Do you mind if I . . . um . . . move a little?”
He groaned and muttered something that sounded distinctly like, “God save me,” before adding, “Move as much as you please if it helps. Actually . . .” He pulled one of her knees up and murmured, “Better?”
“I . . . I think so.” She lifted up her other knee and shifted experimentally beneath him. With a moan, he slid farther inside her, sparking the most amazing sensation down there. Quite . . . enjoyable. “Ohh, yes! Much better.”
He gazed down at her with a sly satisfaction. “More of that?” he rasped, rocking against her in a very provocative manner that had his member going in and out of her.
She was panting now and clutching his arms. “Much, much more.”
Project Duchess Page 19