Denying The Duke (Regency Romance: Strong Women Find True Love Book 3)

by Virginia Vice

  “Indeed, you are.” He chuckled lightly and his arms tightened around her. He lowered his head to reply and caught her citrus scent. Lemon balm and sunshine. It was strange and unconventional, but then this beauty never was ordinary. Suddenly their position struck him as incriminating. He doubted she would be willing to wed him when she only meant to comfort him.

  Comfort him she did. Her face burrowing in his chest was a welcome pressure he could feel through his coat and shirt. And he was on a path to relinquish the pleasure, but not just yet. Society be damned, there was not a soul around to see them.

  He bent his head again and imbibed in that citrus scent. So like her—direct, sharp and yet addicting.

  Amelia was aware of her position. Her tears had come quickly and had long dried up but she remained on his chest holding on to that phantom warmth. Initially, she had meant to comfort him and take comfort. After a moment in the embrace her heart had lurched, sending a pulse of heat to all her body. The aching heat in her belly started to boil slowly, like a thick pot stirred over the fire. She had never experienced the sensation but she was not so green not to identify desire. This was nothing like a stolen kiss by a bold boy of the local gentry or the shallow but trifling heavy-lidded flirtation in a ballroom.

  Her body grew heavier and warmer until she feared he would feel it and know even through the many layers of fabric. She started to move, raising her head from his chest. He missed it immediately. It had become sweetly familiar in that short moment.

  “I beg your forgiveness. I was too bold.” She apologised immediately as she moved away to what could be called a respectable distance.

  He excused her. “You were overwrought and in need of comfort.”

  “Thank you. Robert. You understand.” She was grateful he did not think she was forward or, heaven forbid, wanton.

  “Your servant always.” He bowed solicitously.

  “Still I feel I must touch on a matter. Something you said filled me with a profound sadness,” she stated in a clear tone that had him looking at her.

  “Strike it from your mind.” He had enjoyed the embrace too much to take her apology right now.

  “I find I cannot,” she insisted.

  “I cannot in good faith allow you to take such a burden because I could not keep mum.” He was not pleased at the direction of their conversation.

  “I am most pleased that you brought me into your confidence.”

  “And I am most displeased that I have made you cry,” he said, by way of apology.

  “We women are emotional creatures.” He nodded curtly but she was not done talking. “I must address this matter.”

  “I cannot stop you.” It was her turn to nod curtly.

  She gathered her inner resolve. There was also the possibility of drawing his ire. “Your father was wrong. Family is important. Love is strength, not weakness. I hope you experience love.”

  Dashed deuce, if his mind was not going in forbidden directions. The words shocked him until he understood her innocent intent fully. She herself was unaware of the easy misconstruction of her words.

  “But I have.” He could not resist the quip. She had given him such ready ammunition. The blush creeping over her cheeks was beautiful and her shock was even more entertaining. It took all his restraint to keep the threatening laughter to spill.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean...” she blushed. “I did not intend to imply...” Gads! What had possessed her to say such words?

  “Come now, Amelia. We are past such formalities and such petty misunderstandings. I perceive rightly what you mean to say, even if your wording was right bawdy.” He really could not stop the quip from spilling. The devil on his shoulder nudged him, and he followed, eyes gleaming mischievously.

  “Robert!”

  “Let us acknowledge the truth between us,” he insisted.

  “You're unkind to tease me so.” Her face burned in embarrassment.

  “I only followed your lead.” His mischief was visible in his lethal crooked grin.

  “Let this topic be at an end.” She tried to sound stern but it came out flustered.

  “Your servant.” He murmured in amusement. “Set your heart at ease, Amelia. I have known love. I informed you that I sent a letter to my sister and she returned correspondence to me. She invited me to her husband’s estate and when I arrived proceeded to hug me wildly. She proclaimed she had said many a prayer for me. No ingénue when I was a child, she had seen the actions of my father.”

  “She could scarcely stop him. She was just a child then too.”

  “Let there be no strife between us” he begged.

  “Forgive me Robert, continue,” she replied in a lighter tone.

  “But when he died I was too far gone, and in the years that followed I did not return home until the eve of her wedding. Thoughtless of me, but that was, to me, simply the way of things,” he continued softly.

  “Oh, Robert!” Her eyes were misty again.

  “No tears, Amelia. Let me finish.”

  “But, of course”

  “But when she received my missive she had given up hope. When I visited at her estates I found she had flagrantly vanquished Society by making a home warm and alive with the joys of children. Even her household servants were like family and in that little moment of my stay I was like one of them. Her husband consulted me freely on all matters and so did she. Her children approached me without fear of my station or scars, and even roped me into several games of hide and seek. I carried them on my shoulders and I felt a peace within me.” He confessed this as if it had been one strange adventure.

  “I am doubly glad. Your sister has flourished in spite of Society.” She pointed out.

  “Would you spite Society with me? Marry me, Amelia.” The surprise widened her eyes and her hand flew up to hold in her gasp.

  “Robert...?” It escaped anyway, with a hoarse edge because she had been crying and still had tears in her eyes. The throaty low flow of air tormented him with an image of the two of them entwined, seat slicked and her gasp filling the air.

  “It is something I have given deliberate thought. Though it is only a marriage of convenience, I will treat you with the utmost courtesy and respect.” He was still reeling from the erotic vision.

  “Robert.” She was afraid it showed too clearly. How did she know such fear?

  “And I give you my word that I shall sign over total control of Mossford to you. I have no need of your dowry.” Everything she had ever wanted was so easily found. She was still wary. Maybe she was dreaming.

  “Robert—this is sudden.” A token protest. She was embarrassed. She was reduced to being flustered. He had offered to save her. An offer of marriage from him was the only one she would consider at all.

  “I have given this deliberate thought. I cannot bear the thought of you losing your land.” He soldiered on with a keen resolution.

  “Marriage is not to be taken lightly. Think on it again.” She offered him an escape. For some reason that annoyed him. Any female would be ecstatic, just not her. Not his Amelia. His Amelia?

  “We have friendship which is more than several Society marriages have.” He pointed out with a patience he was far from feeling. Friendship be damned, he wanted her.

  “Indeed we do.” More?

  “Will you think on it then?” At least she did not disagree.

  “I will.” But she already knew what her answer would be. She felt strongly for him. He understood her. The two of them were hard done by Society and that formed a bond of some sort. She found comfort in their alliance.

  “I am pleased. Will you take me to another place you enjoyed in your childhood?” He wanted the day to continue.

  “Alas, I cannot take you climbing,” she said primly.

  “I have never done it. You will have to tutor me,” he replied easily, with a deadpan voice.

  “I doubt you could grasp the mechanics now.” Her voice was snotty.

  “All my tutors claime
d I was apt. Perhaps they lied then?” She wondered all the things he had ever been taught and her body was wrapped by a thin thread of heat. His raised eyebrow told her he had an inkling of the direction of her thoughts.

  “Robert? Why do you insist on teasing me mercilessly?” The blush she couldn’t hope to hide flushed her cheeks.

  “I confess it is your blush,” he said with a conspiratorial smile.

  “My...” Her cheeks burned with additional heat.

  “It blazes quite beautifully but it is a rare sight.” He continued as if she had not interrupted.

  “Only my father can bring it up and only in chastising me.” She confided to him, then cursed that instinct.

  “Then I am infinitely pleased that I am the other.” The crooked smile came alive.

  “Robert, you beast!” She swatted at him, small ineffectual hits that made him laugh out loud. “Stop this minute or I shall throw you in the pond.”

  “I shall love to see you try.” He retorted even as he moved out of her reach.

  The horses left grazing around the stream neighed and the couple suddenly remembered their surrounding. Somehow they had fallen into a camaraderie that filled then with a sense of wonderment and had eyes for each other only. Even the sky was ignored and it had turned a dark cast. Amelia looked up, after the storm the night before she doubted the sky would release rain so soon.

  “I love your favorite haunt, have you another?” He interrupted her avid perusal of the sky.

  She startled softly and smiled at him. “I found a fox hole once.”

  He had her attention immediately. “Did you see the fox itself?”

  “Only its kits.” Even more dangerous, but then she was no conventional miss.

  “Hmm,” he grunted.

  “I still recall the area,” she offered sheepishly.

  He looked at her then, remembering the comment that caused the fight. “I did not know you would be taking me on a fox hunt.”

  “Hunting? No one is hunting,” she reiterated with another smile. Now he looked at her and she looked positively on fire.

  “Do not be so fierce,” he said with not a little amusement at her and gestured towards the grazing horses.

  They turned back to their horses. This time she allowed him to help her up and he acknowledged her sacrifice. “There miss, you are safely ensconced on your high horse.”

  “Robert, you beast!” She tried to swat him with the reins in her hand but he danced out of reach.

  He mounted his horse and they turned away from the bubbling brook. Less than a furlough away lightning cracked through the skies with a sudden gust of damp wind.

  “Ah. The storm has come.” Then the first heavy drops started to fall. She spurred her hose and started off towards the stables with him in hot pursuit. They had hardly gone a short distance before she realized it was a futile thing to aim for the stables. The sky was dark, almost like night, and the heavy rain fell in heavy sheets that obscured the road. At this pace they could be easily lost or have a horse fall into a divot and throw one of them. They couldn’t stand in the raging rain either, not with the wind whipping like a mad thing.

  “Follow me!” She suddenly turned on the conviction of a recent memory.

  “Amelia, wait.” She was going in the wrong direction, that much he knew, but the rain stole the words and he had no choice except to follow her as she rode away. He tried to catch her attention and in his haste almost lost his seat. A suddenly looming shadow explained her pellmell dash down this road. Shelter.

  They abandoned the horses at the front of the simple lodge and scrambled in quickly. They were already drenched but it was a relief to escape from the freezing rain. Teeth chattering, Amelia pushed the door open and walked in. The room was cold but an improvement to the rain.

  The gamekeeper’s lodge was clean and dry, though it was sparsely furnished. He was glad to find wood stacked in the fireplace with a bit of slightly damp kindling which could be coaxed to burn with careful handling. He snagged the flint stones from the mantle, and bent down to build a fire.

  He turned once to look at her, teeth chattering and pale eyed. “Go search for other coverings. I am sure there is bound to be some in this place, wherever it is.”

  “It is the gamekeeper’s lodge. Unused for now. We dismissed our last man for poaching.” She was standing in the middle of a widening puddle on the floor.

  “Damned nuisance he must have been. Regardless, you must shed your drenched clothes if you don’t want to suffer a head cold.” He advised her and turned back to sparking the flint stones together.

  “True, let me see if this place offers more than the promise of fire.” She stood, dripping hands curled on her arms, to trudge up the side of the room. After only a few minutes she discovered two things. One, that the place was kept in excellent condition per her instructions, and the other? There was not a single stitch to be found anywhere. But there was a bed tick without linen and that brought a blush to her cheeks for some reason. She waded down to the fireplace to report her findings.

  Robert was nowhere to be found but his coat was hanging by the fireplace. There were not a lot of places to hide so she waited, warming herself by the fire. He would not venture very far without his coat all in this rain. The slamming of the door announced his arrival.

  “Robert you are drenched. What were you doing in the rain again? Look at you!” He was a magnificent sight. His drenched linen shirt molded to his body, followed every roll of muscle. His breeches were glued to his thighs and afforded her a view that was much too titillating. She was suddenly warm in the cozy room, something she could not entirely attribute to the warm fire burning in the grate.

  “I had to unsaddle the horses, poor things,” he explained. He tried to wring the excess water from his hair and wipe his face.

  “Oh.” She was ashamed she had not thought of that, and they were her own horses. “Thank you, Robert.”

  “Come closer to the fireplace.” He pulled a wooden chair close to the fire but not too close.

  “There is not a single piece of cloth to be found here,” she confided as he tried to get her situated in front of the now eagerly burning fire.

  He looked balefully at her and back at the fire “And this is the last of the firewood, just enough to burn through the night.”

  “What shall we do?” Wait until the rain was over. She was a fool to even ask the question.

  “We will not perish of cold, I promise.” She looked worried. He turned to his coat by the fireplace and turned it.

  “This promises to be a daylong squall for which this countryside is infamous for,” she continued.

  “And your grooms will surely come looking for us,” he tried to reassure her even if he did not feel too assured of the situation himself.

  “The rain would have washed our trail away. This isn’t normally where I ride. In the morning we can find our way back by ourselves,” she retorted. With that despairing note she subsided into her chair, shivering badly.

  She looked so tired and defeated. His Amelia was unused to being thwarted. “This would never do. You must remove every stitch of clothing.”

  “Robert!” Shock had her sitting up and glaring at him. Good.

  “This is not time for false modesty Amelia. I, for one, will not allow you to perish from the cold because of your sensibilities. Remove every wet stitch and put on my coat. It is woolen, and quite warmed now.” His tone was brisk and business like. After the initial shock subsided she saw the sense in his suggestions.

  “And you?” she challenged lightly.

  “Let me tend to you first.” He had her love from that moment. Any man would have politely said he would come after, or that he would take care of himself. But not her Robert, he wanted to tend to her. Something no one had done for her willingly all her life. Servants, no matter how genial, were paid to fuss.

  The emotion came, strong and emboldening. It gave her the courage to begin undressing, something she would have
never considered before another man. Then she bent down and pried her shoe off her leg or she tried to. He was suddenly there to push her hands away softly and take over the task.

  Her stockings were light and damp, not any kind of protection for the heat of his hand on her ankle. She gasped and he continued without looking up at her. The second shoe thudded much too loudly and startled her. “Thank you, Robert.”

  “You can take care of the rest without my help,” he offered, and walked back to turn the coat. It was quite warm now and dry. “Here, don’t forget to take it with you.” He passed it to her.

  “Of course.” She stood up, eager now to remove her clothes. The warmth of the fire on her ankles was delicious. She took the offered coat and went to the bedroom area. It was not exactly hidden but it afforded her a bit of privacy.

  Away from his immediate view, she nuzzled into the warmth of the coat. It filled her nose with the slight hints of smoke and a scent she would come to associate with him. It was clean and brisk. Soap but with something underlying, more potent, exciting. A coil of heat danced in her belly, making her lift her face from the warm wool. It wouldn’t do to behave wantonly. Her foolishness brought a surge of shame to her face.

  She dropped the warm coat on the bed and struggled with her clothes. The tiny buttons clung to the wet cotton, making an already hard job close to impossible. “Robert.” She called for help, the sound muffled by the rain and her mounting shame. “Robert!”

  He came running as if he was afraid something had gotten hold of her.

  He had been caught in the heavy sound of rain, he found it particularly enjoyable. A storm this wild with the dramatic flashes of lightening and deafening thunder was something he enjoyed very much. The raw display of power and unbridled chaos soothed something primal in him. More than anything he needed soothing this night.

  It had taken all of his restraint and reminding himself that he was not a cad, or a green boy to leash his increasing desire. The drenched clothes had revealed her form in full. It showed the lines and curves or at least followed them in a most tantalizing display. Her ankle protected by a thin damp curtain was a sight, but he had shuddered when she gasped, the proof of his desire growing eager.