The Devil May Care

by Emma V. Leech

  Returning to the house he was informed that Lady Ware had eaten and retired to bed and that a cold supper had been left for him on her instructions. With a sigh of regret he sat down and did his best to finish the plate of cold chicken but found he didn't have much of an appetite. His thoughts were too focused on Milly and the words he had almost given her.

  If Mrs Buss hadn't interrupted him he would have told her he loved her. Right now he didn't know whether he should be relieved or disappointed that the moment had eluded him. It frightened him to believe a woman had such a hold on his heart, on his happiness, but there was little point in denying it now. He just wished he knew how she felt about him.

  She obviously desired him. She'd made that much abundantly clear and he couldn't help but smile when he remembered that day's lunch together. He looked across the empty dining table and sighed. It had been rather more entertaining than dinner that was for sure.

  Did she just consider them the same as many other married couples though? Partners in some aspects of their lives and strangers in others? Would she still believe he'd take lovers behind her back? Would she do the same?

  He groaned and pushed his plate away, finishing his wine and deciding he didn't want to spend the rest of the evening alone. Climbing the stairs he paused outside of Milly's door and gave a quiet knock that seemed to echo in his chest as he received no reply. He tried once more, a little harder, and then gave up as still no reply came. Perhaps now she'd had time to think about it his little outburst earlier had disgusted her. She said she'd read about all of the wicked things he'd done. But it was one thing to read about the exploits of a stranger. It was quite another to discover the man named in those titillating stories in the scandal rags was your own husband.

  Feeling lonely and dejected he left her door and returned along the corridor to his own room. He opened the door and looked around, surprised that Purefoy hadn't pounced on him the moment he stepped in and demanded to know why there were small, floury fingermarks over his usually pristine, dark blue coat. Relieved at least that he was spared the man's histrionics for the moment, he moved to the bed and began to try and undress himself. Cursing as he tried to ease the tightly fitted jacket from his broad shoulders, he jumped as a soft voice came from the bed.

  "Let me help you with that."

  Chapter 27

  "Wherein the night is wonderful, and the morning after ..."

  He span around in shock and could only stand staring like a fool as Milly rose to her knees in his bed. The covers fell away as she moved to reveal that she was utterly, gloriously naked. He took a breath as delight and desire stole any possibility of making a sensible comment.

  "Come here then," she said, amusement lurking in those dark eyes as he just stood gaping at her like he'd never seen a naked woman before. He did as he was told and moved towards the bed, feeling his pulse speed a ridiculous amount as she leaned forward and helped to ease his coat from his shoulders. "I hope you don't mind but I told Purefoy you didn't need him." She looked up at him, mischief glittering in her eyes. "I think he was rather cross with me."

  "I don't doubt it," he murmured, her breasts pressing against his chest as she forced the coat down his arms. "He could well be out of a job if this is the alternative. I never want a valet again. Ever."

  The moment his arms were free he caught her to him and she laughed as he pushed her back onto the bed, following her down.

  "But I've only taken your jacket off," she protested, as he relished the feel of her naked in his arms. His hands were intent on their quest, exploring the silky skin that he had every intention of being as familiar to him as his own. "There is a lot more to do yet," she tutted at him, tugging at his waistcoat. "And your buttons are cold," she added, squirming in a delicious manner beneath him.

  He shook his head, keeping his expression serious. "You'll soon warm my buttons I'm sure, and there is only one thing of great importance as you are well aware. Please don't keep me waiting."

  She raised one eyebrow at him and he held his breath as her small hand travelled down between them and released the fall on his breeches. He sighed as she slipped her hand inside and caressed him, knowing only that he needed this. Not just some mindless release with someone he didn't give a damn about. He needed this, with Milly, because it meant something. To him at least.

  He put his hand to her cheek, staring into her eyes and seeing such desire there, but was that all? He wasn't sure he knew what love looked like. He'd seen women gaze at him with adoration, had known those who had protested that they loved him, though in truth he'd never really believed it. What did real love look like?

  He kissed her, keeping his touch light and gentle, as tender as he could, so that perhaps she would sense the words that he was so afraid to say out loud. She responded in kind, mimicking his moves, her breathing coming faster, warm and fluttering against his skin. They remained that way, entwined and doing little more for the moment that exchanging dozens of sweet kisses, their touches remaining careful and caressing and soft. But it was never going to be enough and desire burned hot and fierce under his skin.

  "Oh, you're so sweet, love ..." he said, suddenly desperate. "Let me inside you."

  He gathered her closer but now his clothes were too restricting, the fabric too coarse and he was too hot and testy to deal with it. He snatched at his cravat and flung clothes hither and yon as Milly laughed at his impatience.

  "I told you to let me help you."

  "Then get these blasted boots off," he muttered, struggling to pull at one as she slid off the bed and grasped hold of it. She managed the first one with no problem, the second, as last time, proved a struggle. She fell backwards as the boot flew from her hands, uttering a startled shriek as her bottom hit the polished wood floor.

  Far too amused at the ungainly heap she'd tumbled into to let her up he took full advantage and crawled over her prone body.

  "Well here we are again," he said, grinning at her.

  "Yes and if you think I'm lying on this cold, hard floor," she grumbled. "What kind of gentleman are you anyway?" she added, wriggling out from under him and crawling away.

  "Oh no you don't." He scrambled after, catching her about the waist as she tried to pull herself up by holding onto a wing back chair by the fireplace. "And I never said I was a gentleman."

  She squealed, laughing as he hauled her against him and then stilled, her breath coming in short little gasps as she realised his intent.

  His chuckle was low and rather wicked as he suspected his sweet little bird was remembering one of the pictures in the book he'd lent her.

  He half expected some sound of protest as his intentions became ever more explicit but he should have known better. "Page thirty I think," he whispered in her ear, leaning over her back as he pushed her down over the seat of the chair.

  She gasped he pressed against her, seeking entry. "Oh," she sighed, as he nudged a little inside her, pushing his hips forward in shallow thrusts. "No, it ... it was definitely ... thirty two ..."

  He laughed, utterly helpless and delighted by her breathless correction of his error. "Oh, love," he said, kissing along her spine as one hand splayed over her belly. "We can check later, and I'll make good and sure we don't miss anything."

  There was no breath left for silly bantering after that as his fingers sought and found the little nub of flesh that made her moan with such abandon. He eased into her, not wanting to rush or spoil the gradual build of pleasure for either of them. To his amusement Milly was intent on her purpose however, moving against him faster until he caught her hips, forcing her to submit to his tortuously slow pace.

  "Behave, minx," he chastised her as she whimpered beneath him. "I can make this take all night without ever letting you come, you know."

  She made an incoherent sound of protest and he smiled against her skin, kissing along her shoulder, and using his fingers to bring her closer to the edge, delighting in the desperate sounds she made. He teased her, bringing her closer
and closer, and then slowing everything down until she was almost crying, begging for him to continue.

  "Don't worry, love, I'll be good to you ... so good ..." He closed his eyes, quite unable to stop the decadent moan that tore from his throat. "Oh, God, Milly, you feel like heaven."

  He caught his breath as he felt her body tighten, the muscles clenching around him, beneath his fingers and then the sudden jolt as she cried out. She clutched at the chair beneath her, convulsing in his arms with helpless, inarticulate sounds as the climax took her over.

  It was all he could do to stay with her without plunging into her wake and a sea of ecstasy. He held on, gritting his teeth and breathing deeply to ride out the storm of desire that urged him to follow without delay. But he had no intention of disappointing his wife after their first, incandescent night together. A man had his pride after all.

  He felt Milly trembling as the rush left her sated and pliant in his arms. Moving out of her warmth with regret, he stood up.

  "Come here, little bird," he said, helping her to her feet and then forced to catch her as her legs gave way.

  She fell against him, giggling at her helpless limbs as he lifted her into his arms. "Good Lord," she whispered, looking up at him with her eyes full of laughter.

  Beau paused, feeling such a rush of love for this woman that it quite stole his breath. He'd thought himself such an accomplished lover, a sophisticated man of the world, but nothing had prepared him for this. It was like knowing the steps to hundreds of intricate dances but never before being able to hear the music. But now he could, and it was magical.

  He sat her down on the chair and kissed her, loving the feel of her arms snaking around his neck, her fingers toying with his hair. He retraced a familiar path, mapping a woman's body with his mouth was always a pleasure, but he wanted to know every freckle, to take note of every mole. It was strange to discover that there was a sense of peace in knowing that this would be the same sweet, stubborn woman for always.

  She gasped as his mouth covered her salt-damp skin and settled upon the sensitive, swollen bud that made her catch her breath. Her fingers tightened in his hair as he licked and caressed, her breathing speeding again. He paused and looked up at her to see her watching him, her dark eyes darker still and full of need.

  "Don't stop," she said, the words breathless and desperate.

  "I wouldn't dare," he replied grinning at her and nuzzling her thigh before returning to his delicate assault on her tender flesh. She arched beneath him and cried out, her body taken again and this time he refused to let her regain her control. He continued with his intimate attentions, knowing his wife well enough now to be unsurprised as she was swept into a series of intense climaxes until she was shaking and exhausted.

  She protested as he lifted her from the chair and laid her back on the bed, her eyes still hazy with desire. Beau looked down at her and found himself more than pleased with the look of sated abandon as she stretched like a lazy cat in the sun. Finally getting to remove his breeches he threw them to the floor and climbing onto the bed, arranged her pliant limbs while she looked on with a placid smile of contentment.

  "I'm not done with you yet, love," he warned her, pushing her legs apart and sliding into her slick heat with ease.

  "Sleepy," she murmured, chuckling softly in his ear until he thrust deep inside of her and heard a sharp intake of breath. He did it again, picking up the pace and driving harder and deeper still as he lost himself in the infinite luxury of her body. Milly responded in kind, and she clung to him, holding tight, wrapping her legs around him and encouraging him to take more.

  "Still sleepy?" he demanded, as he felt the first wave of pleasure stealing over him.

  She didn't reply but grew taut beneath him, her body pulsing around him as he came with her. He held onto her as the climax crashed over him and he cried out, incoherent and beyond control, quite unable to moderate the sounds that tore from his throat and that must show her how lost he was in her. But he found he didn't care, the only thing he knew was that he wanted this to last forever.

  He moved off her with effort but didn't let go, gathering her heated flesh to his own and holding her close.

  "Swear you'll still be here when I wake up," he said, once he was able to find wit enough to speak.

  Milly sighed and nodded against his chest, the effort of speaking clearly too much.

  "Promise," he demanded, desperate to avoid the aching loneliness of waking and finding her gone. "I'll tie you to the bed if you don't promise."

  She chuckled, the sound sleepy and amused.

  "Don't think I won't," he grumbled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before closing his eyes.

  "I promise," she mumbled.

  Satisfied, he gave a sigh of content and allowed sleep to steal over him.

  ***

  Milly shifted in the bed. Her body ached, though it was by no means unpleasant. She felt heavy and sleepy still, content to stay where she was and enjoying the warmth beneath the covers. It took her a moment to realise the warmth didn't come from the sheets and blankets however.

  Beau was curled around her, his large body coiled in a protective manner about her smaller limbs. She turned a little and felt the soft huff of his breathing flutter over her cheek and felt her heart turn in her chest.

  Last night had surpassed even their first and she could still feel the pleasure of it alive in her blood. She ran one hand over his arm, delighting in the heavy muscle beneath her fingertips. She wished she could see him fence one day. What a joy to see that magnificent body at work, to watch the play of muscle and tendon as it flexed beneath his skin. The thought of it made her skin heat further and she glanced back again to see his eyes flick open, a sudden, dazzling flash of blue, and then a slow, seductive smile that made her poor, terrified heart give a little skip in her chest.

  "You stayed," he murmured, sounding sleepy and nuzzling against her neck.

  She smiled and closed her eyes, wondering if she was a fool to have allowed herself such pleasure. "I promised didn't I."

  He sighed and she wondered if he was truly as contented as he seemed to be. Could she really keep this for herself? The idea of losing him now, the idea that he might casually go to another woman's bed was so heartbreaking that she knew things had gone too far. There was no way she would be able to forgive him such a betrayal. Not now.

  At some point very soon she would have to tell him the truth. She would have to give him an ultimatum. He could have her, but it would have to be her and her alone or she would be forced to leave him. She wouldn't survive the alternative. But what man would want a wife who couldn't give him children?

  Though for all she knew she could already be pregnant. The thought was at once shocking and wonderful. She should never have allowed last night to happen. She hadn't meant to. She had waited for him, intending to remind him about her condition, to remind him of the dangers of having a child with her.

  She had believed she meant to lay out before him all the reasons it was a dangerous idea. But the temptation to surprise him had been too delicious and she'd given into it. But how cruel to him if it was already too late. She'd been dreadfully selfish. Too intent on spending another glorious night in his arms to consider the risk she was running.

  "What is it?"

  She realised he was watching her and that her face must have betrayed the bitterness of her thoughts.

  "Nothing," she said, hurrying to put a smile in place and seeing the doubt in his eyes.

  Milly took the opportunity to slide from the bed. She had no doubt that Mrs Goodly would have noticed her absence by now and she had enough on her mind without fielding her curious questions.

  "Wait," Beau reached out and grasped her wrist. "Don't go, not yet."

  His voice was as warm and inviting as the tumbled sheets on the bed and the longing to do as he bid was almost overwhelming. But they must speak first and she didn't feel up to the task whilst she was stark naked.

  She gave a
little tug on her hand, hoping he'd let go but he held her fast. "Beau, I should get up. We have to go to that wretched ball tonight and I have a million things to do today."

  He frowned and got to his knees, moving across the bed towards her and her mouth seemed to go dry as the covers fell from his body.

  "Is that why you looked so unhappy, love?" he asked, frowning at her. "Because we don't have to go if you don't want to." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. "I'm just as content to stay in tonight if you prefer." His blue eyes glittered with mischief, giving his words a whole other meaning as that sensual mouth curved back into a smile.

  The thought of a repeat of last night's performance was almost enough to make her moan at the very idea of it.

  "I-I don't mind going," she said, though that wasn't at all true. She was utterly terrified. It would be the first truly public engagement where she would have to face the ton as his wife. She could just imagine the sneers and incredulous looks as they took in the dazzling Duke of Ware and his mousy little wife.

  She obviously hadn't convinced him as he moved towards her and drew her back into his arms. "Don't worry, little bird. I won't let anyone upset you. Surely you know that?"

  Milly caught her breath as his warm chest pressed against her back.

  "I know," she whispered. Though she wondered how he would counter the vicious little whispers and snide comments that would be bound to be uttered, just loud enough to reach her ears. Not to mention having to look half the women in the room in the eyes and wonder if they'd slept with him too. The idea made her so furious that she struggled out of his arms and began to snatch up her clothes.

  "Mrs Goodly will wonder where I am," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.