The Undercover Duke

by Michaels, Jess

  Nothing more.

  “Your father was a good man,” he said.

  She shifted in her seat and her eyes darted away with discomfort at the intimacy of that statement. “Yes,” she said at last. “He was that.”

  “He spoke of you sometimes,” he continued, and then questioned himself on why. Didn’t this go against what he’d just decided with himself? That this was a temporary affair that did not require any deeper knowledge or connection?

  She bent her head farther. “Did he?”

  He could not read her tone, didn’t know if that information he’d provided hurt her or helped her, was a surprise or something that inspired anger.

  “Yes,” he continued, despite all the things telling him to stop. “He always said how clever you were. How proud he was of you.”

  To his surprise, her expression grew suddenly harder. Slowly, she stood up and paced away, her hands clenched at her sides. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know all about how he valued my usefulness.”

  He shook his head, sitting up in the tub and setting the soap on the edge. “It was more than that, Diana,” he breathed.

  She pivoted, and now she speared him with a look. “He talked about you, too,” she said, clearly trying to change the subject. “The Undercover Duke, he called you, though I never knew your real name. He teased about it and told me you were a member of a very prestigious duke club, but that somehow you were still good at what you did.”

  Lucas turned his face. His club. He tried so hard not to think about that. About them. His friends. The ones he hadn’t talked to since…well, since…that was all. “They are the best of men,” he said softly.

  She tilted her head, and there was a moment of silence before she said, “Well, my father considered you a…a…”

  He looked at her, wondering why she struggled to find a word that was so simple. “A friend?” he suggested.

  She nodded. “Yes, that, of course. But it was more than that. He made it very clear he saw you as a—a son, I think. Sometimes I was actually rather jealous of your bond with him.”

  “A son,” Lucas repeated in shock. “That means a great deal to me.”

  He said no more, he couldn’t. But that didn’t stop Diana. She stepped forward, her bright green gaze focused on him. Reading him as only she seemed capable of doing. As always, it made him uncomfortable because it felt so damned vulnerable.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He clenched his teeth and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s more than nothing,” she whispered. “After all, I told you about my past—you cannot tell me one thing in return?”

  He sighed. That was fair. And what he would say would reveal nothing important. At least not anything she would understand the importance of.

  “My own father didn’t view me as a son,” he said, every word stinging as it came out of his mouth. “In fact, he could scarcely stand the sight of me. So your father’s acceptance on that level, it means more than you could understand. I…I’m sorry I failed him. So sorry.”

  She moved closer, and now those bright eyes snapped. “Stop saying that. My father was involved with spies and their duties for decades, Lucas. He knew the risks.”

  “As do we all,” he said. “Some of us are destined to die for our country. I just didn’t think that was your father’s destiny.”

  Her face twisted in horror. “Are you saying it is yours?” She swallowed hard. “Is that why you avoid taking on the mantel of your title?”

  “Partly,” he admitted, and that one word felt like a thousand-pound weight dropped on his damaged shoulders.

  “What is the other part?” she pressed.

  He shook his head and then slowly pushed to his feet. The water ran down his body and he watched as her attention shifted from his face to his chest and his stomach and his cock.

  “I don’t want to talk anymore, Diana,” he said softly.

  She held his gaze for a long moment, and then she closed the remaining distance between them. She reached out and pressed her palm to his stomach, stroking her fingers over the firm muscle there.

  “I see,” she whispered as she reached back with her opposite hand and caught up a fluffy towel from the table behind her.

  She shook it out and handed it over, but he didn’t unfold it. He didn’t cover himself. He just steadied himself on her shoulder and stepped from the tub. He caught her, cupping her backside and drawing her firmly against him. She squealed as his wet body molded to hers, but any playful protest was lost when he dropped his mouth to hers.

  As always, she responded. He loved that about her. Her body was made for his. Made to be touched. Made to be worshipped, and he was up to that task, although sometimes touching her made him want to be whole again more than anything else. Whole so he could take her and hold her and pleasure her in a dozen new ways. Ways she hadn’t even thought about before.

  But for now, this would be enough. He backed her toward the bed and they fell together. He reveled in how their bodies fit, even as he struggled to keep himself perched on his good arm as he kissed her and kissed her until everything else faded away.

  She arched beneath him, little sounds of pleasure already escaping her throat as she drove her tongue against his in needy, powerful desire. His cock ached, his body ached, he needed to be inside of her. Now.

  “Roll over,” he grunted as he pulled away.

  She did so, sprawling onto her stomach on the bed. He grabbed her hips and tugged her until she was bent over the side, her delectable backside giving him the perfect view of pleasures to come.

  Slowly he fisted her skirt in his hand, tugging it up and up her body, over her calves, her thighs, up over her hips and bunched it against her back. He reached around her, rocking against her gently as he untied the waist of her drawers. They dropped around her ankles and left her in just garters and stockings and gorgeous bare skin.

  He cupped her backside and she shuddered beneath him. His name escaped her words in a soft breath and she lifted up, offering him everything.

  He wanted to take it. He massaged the firm flesh there, tugging her back so he could slide his cock into the crease. She gasped at the shock of him against that forbidden place, but she didn’t protest. She just looked back over her shoulder at him, uncertain.

  “I could,” he drawled, holding her stare as he stroked his cock over the rosebud entrance to her entirely distracting bottom. “And you’d like it.”

  She bit her lip. “Would I?”

  He nodded. “I’d make sure of it. But I have nothing here to ease the way. So not today. Not this time. This time I’ll take…” He trailed off as he slid his cock down, around to the entrance of her sex. When he touched the tip to her, he found her wet, hot, ready. “…here,” he gasped.

  She pushed back and he slid in an inch. One inch of heaven as she gripped him like a well-fitted glove. He’d been with many women in his day. He’d always liked pleasure and had done nothing to deny himself.

  But this was different. When he thrust into her, filling her from base to tip, it was different. It was unique. It was everything. He entered her body, and there was part of him that felt like he was coming home. To a place he’d never really had. That he belonged with her, joined with her physically and perhaps more than that.

  The thought jolted him and he thrust again to erase it. Pleasure skirted up his cock and it did make all these musings fade. He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her skin, denting the flesh there, probably leaving little bruises. But she moaned in desire and he didn’t stop. He just began to pound against her.

  She met him stroke for stroke. Her body clung to him, making him work for the movement, work for the release. And it came, hard and fast and heavy. He focused hard to keep it at bay, for he wanted her to milk it from him with her orgasm.

  “Touch yourself,” he grunted.

  She looked over her shoulder at him a s
econd time, and he nearly came undone at the sensual expression, the glazed passion and naked longing on her face.

  She didn’t say anything. Just held his stare as she snaked a hand between her legs and began to rub her clitoris. He felt her bearing down against her fingers, against his cock and he shut his eyes. She would unman him and he couldn’t wait.

  He felt her jolt beneath him and she let out a gasp, a groan, and then her pussy was gripping him in wave after wave of release. He thrust through it, reveling in the rippling pull that urged him to release.

  When it came, he nearly spent inside of her. Only barely did he withdraw, letting out a cry as he poured himself out against her skin and felt her shiver beneath him.

  Then he fell against her, tucking her to his side and letting the connection warm him, the release heal him, and her presence soothe him, even though he knew full well that it wouldn’t last.

  Chapter Ten

  Slowly Diana woke through a cloud of comfort and pleasure. She was warm and safe, and as she cuddled into the blankets she felt strong arms fold tighter against her. This was heaven, there was nothing else to it, and she didn’t want to wake up from it.

  Except she did. Reality crept in at last, and she opened her eyes to find hazy sunlight filtering into the room behind the curtains. She was on her side, facing Lucas. His arms were around her, but he was still sleeping.

  In this rare moment, she drank in the sight of him. He was truly beautiful, and never more so than when he was relaxed like this. It made him look younger, less jaded by the world, less affected by pain.

  But she wasn’t fooled by the look. Yesterday he had used passion against her. They’d been talking, she had requested he share a little about the life he’d once led, and he had cut her off by bedding her.

  She’d let him because his touch was too perfect not to surrender to. She wanted it, she wanted him. So she’d taken him, over and over, until night came, until sleep came.

  But she couldn’t ignore that he was perfectly willing to turn the desires of her wanton body against her.

  Was that for the best? Well, that was another question entirely. Sharing secrets with him was dangerous. It led to a sense of closeness, which was false, a trap. If her walls came down, that could be devastating, especially considering the anniversary that would soon approach. A week more and she would be fighting to keep herself distant from him so he wouldn’t see her weakness and her heartbreak.

  Perhaps she needed to start practicing that distance now.

  She rolled away slowly and pushed at the covers, moving to extract herself from his arms, but he tightened them around her and suddenly she was flush against him. Her back flattened against his broad chest and the hardness of his cock pressed against her as he placed a kiss to the place where her neck and shoulder met.

  His voice was deep and sleepy as he murmured, “You told me to rest, Diana. Stay in bed with me today.”

  She couldn’t help but smile, even though the pure temptation of those words was dangerous beyond belief. Stay with him for today? It was too easy to begin picturing staying with him forever. In his bed, in his arms, in his life.

  “We’ll starve,” she protested, trying not to sigh as he continued to kiss along her skin.

  “Worth it,” he breathed.

  She shivered, searching for an answer that would free her from the prison she adored. “Stalwood is coming later this morning,” she finally said.

  “It’s not later yet,” he argued, and began to flick her nipple with his thumb until she could not find her breath.

  But she did find her resolve. She pushed against him. “Lucas, honestly, we don’t have time.”

  He released her immediately, and she stumbled from the bed and searched the floor for the robe she had discarded late last night when she went on a search for food after the third time he made love to her.

  When she was covered and somewhat calm, she turned back to him. He was staring at her, his gaze hooded and analyzing and judging. Like he could see through her if he focused hard enough. In truth, she feared he could.

  “Come, I’ll assist you as you ready yourself for the day,” she said, turning to efficiency to cloak her deeper emotions. “Let me look at that wound and then I’ll help you dress.”

  For a moment she thought he might refuse. Confront. Seduce her back to his arms, and then she would tell him everything she’d spent a lifetime keeping secret. He would have all of her and when he left he’d take it all with him.

  But he didn’t. His face was still unreadable as he drew out of the bed and inclined his head. “As you wish, Diana. Whatever you’d like.”

  She motioned him to the chair by the fire so she could check his wound, but this acquiescence felt nothing like a victory. It felt like a move in a chess game.

  And it was one she didn’t think she was winning.

  All morning Lucas had felt the distance Diana put between them. It was evident in the cool way she assisted him. In the way she avoided conversation beyond polite questions and answers. The way she put him in the parlor for his breakfast, rather than in their…his bedroom or the kitchen, where they sometimes broke bread together.

  She’d even refused his offer of help when she got ready. There had been no playfulness to it, nor seductive teasing. She had just left him alone and not returned for nearly an hour.

  He had no idea what had set off the change in her. They’d made love for hours the night before and it had been magical. And yet today…

  Well, today she was building walls. Walls that were for the best, of course. He knew full well they were getting too close, and yet he felt a desperate desire to claw those walls down, to gather her against him and demand that she give him more. Give him everything.

  Utterly unfair.

  She entered the parlor where she had put him some time ago. A tea service was balanced in her arms. While he watched, she set it on the sideboard and quietly went about arranging it.

  “Stalwood will be here momentarily,” she said without looking at him. “I know you two have much to discuss, so I’ll leave you alone once you are situated with drinks.”

  He arched a brow and moved toward her a step. When she stiffened, as if she had sensed his intentions, he stopped and stared at her. “What is this game, Diana?” he asked softly.

  She jerked her gaze to his. “Game?”

  “You are not a servant to me nor to him, yet you are playing at it. What is going on? Have I done something wrong?”

  He found himself holding his breath at the answer, waiting for her to reveal some way for him to scale this wall between them. But she merely smiled at him, an expression that was utterly false, and shook her head. “Of course not. Everything is fine.”

  “Don’t sport with my intelligence, Diana,” he said, his tone a bit harsher than he wanted it to be. “I don’t appreciate it.”

  Her lips parted and then she swallowed hard. He saw her fighting within herself, trying to find the words to say whatever had spooked her. He leaned forward, desperate to hear them, but then there was a knock at her front door.

  She looked relieved. The expression lasted just a flash of a moment, but he saw it. He recognized it. It hit him in the gut like a punch.

  “Excuse me,” she said, not meeting his eyes as she scurried from the room. He shook his head as he listened to her open the door, greet the earl, then guide him back to the parlor.

  “Lord Stalwood,” she announced, once again like she was Lucas’s maid rather than his lover. His—his friend, for that was how he had begun to think of her in the time they’d been together.

  He didn’t want to lose that.

  “Great God, but you do look better,” Stalwood said as he came into the room, hand outstretched.

  Lucas still chose to shake with his good arm, but felt more strength in even that. “Diana has worked wonders,” he said, looking past Stalwood to her. She was still not meeting his gaze.

  “I s
hould send all my injured to you, my dear,” Stalwood said with a brief smile for her.

  She stiffened at the suggestion and some of the color went out of her cheeks. “I-I would not dare to take my father’s place, my lord. Now I will leave you two to your discussion.”

  She said nothing more, but pivoted on her heel and all but fled the room. Stalwood stared after her and then looked at Lucas. “I did not mean to offend her,” he said. “I did not think that she would take it that I was trying to replace her father.”

  Lucas motioned him to the settee and moved to pour the tea himself. “It isn’t you who offended her. I seem to have done that all on my own.”

  Stalwood arched a brow. “Have you now? How?”

  He shook his head. “I am not entirely certain. We were getting along fine and then—” He cut himself off and shrugged, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “She is a riddle.”

  Stalwood was staring at him with even more focus now. “I’ve known her since she was a girl, you know. Oakford worked with me and for me for years.”

  Lucas straightened with true interest. “And what kind of child was she?”

  Stalwood hesitated and then said, “Bright. Quick to laugh. But with a vein of sadness that ran through her. She missed her mother, I think.”

  “And now her father.” Guilt washed over Lucas as he said it.

  “Yes. She is…she’s more fragile than perhaps she looks.”

  Lucas considered that statement. It didn’t ring true. Fragile was not the word for Diana, for she had a core of steel that ran through her. Fragile meant weak in some way, and she was not that.

  “Vulnerable,” he suggested. “She is vulnerable beneath that façade of confidence and strength. Perhaps I…I did not honor that.”

  “Do I need to intervene?” Stalwood said softly. “Remove you from her care?”

  Lucas’s stomach tensed at the very idea that he would be separated from her at this juncture. He pushed back at the feeling. That was silly. He was confused by her behavior and that turned everything upside down. He only wanted to be well and she was helping with that. There was no other reason not to want to walk away.