The Reluctant Duke

by Blaise Kilgallen

  Caroline heard a faint scratching on the door to the sitting room and called for the service people to enter. Two men and the innkeeper proceeded to bring in a table set for two with white linen, sparkling crystal, china and silver. A maid rolled in a serving cart with covered dishes and an uncorked bottle of wine. Antonio paused at the connecting bedchamber, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. When the servants finished setting up the meal, he dismissed them with a nod, followed them to the door, and turned the key in the lock.

  The steaming dishes steeped with tantalizing aromas of poached salmon, scalloped potatoes, buttered peas and carrots, squab stuffed with herbed rice dressing, and a large berry cobbler.

  Drawing up the two wing chairs to the table set before the fireplace, Antonio seated Caroline and poured them each a glass of wine. They sipped silently, their eyes speaking what their lips had yet to reveal. Though each filled a plate, they only nibbled at the food, and very soon, no longer made a pretense of eating. The innkeeper had, indeed, prepared a meal fit for a duke and duchess but most of it went untouched.

  Pushing his chair back and rising, Antonio held out a hand to Caroline. She took it and rose, stepping into his embrace like a vessel coming into its homeport. They stood embracing, perfectly comfortable and at ease until their bodies began to ignite. Then comfort was no longer enough.

  “Shall I act as your ladies' maid?”

  “I’d be grateful for your help, Tonio,” Caroline replied, heading into their bedchamber. Her arms were already raised to take down her hair as he came to her. The action pushed her lush breasts against her dressing gown. He tugged at the ties wrapping her robe and it fell open. His hands quickly slid up her ribs to her breasts. Her nipples were peaked, awaiting his touch. Pulling out her hairpins, she let her unfettered tresses stream down her back.

  Reaching low and behind her, Antonio filled his hands with her buttocks, pulling her up on tiptoe and pressing her tight against his erection so she felt his readiness. Erotically, he slowly rotated his hips, rubbing his aroused sex against her belly. All the while, their gazes clung.

  Gently, Antonio released Caroline and pushed the dressing gown from her shoulders. Lowering her arms, she watched the fabric puddle around her feet then wiggled out of her silk chemise, letting it slide down to bunch above her hips, baring her breasts.

  Antonio removed the rest of her underclothes, appraising her nude form as she stood silhouetted by the faint, golden candlelight behind her. Biceps bulging, Antonio stooped to lift her, his lips seeking and holding hers as he gently placed her on the bed and followed her down to the feather mattress.

  She pulled at the placket of his shirt to open it, wanting the feel of his skin next to hers.

  “Wait, mi corazon. Let me.”

  He rose and stripped off his shirt, his muscles rippling in the glowing light. Quickly, he bent and removed his footwear and stockings. Caroline watched intently as he skimmed the pants over his slim hips. Caroline had never seen any man completely naked, even Antonio.

  When he saw his wife staring, Antonio remained where he was. Her gaze appraised his sun-bronzed skin and the muscled planes of his chest and torso. Dark hair continued downward in a narrow line over the ridges of his belly to the nest of curls from which his impressive manhood sprang, fully erect and engorged. His thighs and calves bulged with powerful muscles. He remained standing with legs spread, his hands locked behind his back, as if awaiting the completion of his wife’s inspection.

  “Look your fill, querida.” His eyes shone like black diamonds. “Do you like what you see? It’s all for you…and for as…long…as you want it.”

  He approached her now and rested one knee on the bed, bringing his heavy endowment within Caroline’s grasp. Gesturing at his cock, he said, “Touch me, Caro. Don’t be afraid. See how much I want you.”

  Timidly, she reached out a hand, but hesitated. Antonio grabbed her fingers and wrapped them around his thickened sex. His cock jumped in anticipation when she touched him, and Caroline almost pulled away. Smiling down at her confusion, he didn't let her go.

  “Did I hurt you?” she asked, quickly glancing up at his face.

  “Oh, no, Caro, just the opposite. It’s with pleasure that my amigo here, leaps in joy. You’re sure you’ve never done this before?” He grinned mischievously.

  Feeling heat burning her cheeks, she shook her head.

  “Umm, I guess I should’ve known better.”

  With her warm palm clasped tightly under his, Antonio showed his wife how to pleasure him. He closed his eyes into slits to enjoy what she was doing until he could stand it no longer or he’d disgrace himself. He released her grip on his penis.

  Antonio’s blood was hot, thick, and his cock felt like it had the strength of a steel core. He saw Caroline’s pupils go black with desire when he lowered himself over her, taking her mouth in a kiss that was all fierce, male possession. She squirmed beneath him, yearning for the pleasures he’d given her before. His hand covered one of her breasts, caressing the nipple. Moving lower, he delved a second hand through the curls between her thighs, seeking the spot which drove her wild. He found it immediately. She was wet, and he stroked the sensitive core of her womanhood the way he knew she liked.

  “Now, Tonio,” she begged urgently. “Take me now, Tatu, quickly. Come inside me.”

  He needed no urging. Kneeling between her legs, Antonio thrust eagerly into her welcoming vagina.

  Caroline arched as he reached her innermost center.

  Slowly, Antonio inhaled and began the thrust and gliding withdrawal that would bring them to supreme heights of pleasure. Caroline strove for her climax as Antonio manipulated her body, touching her in every way he knew how to send her soaring to a pinnacle of mind-bending ecstasy. Soon both lovers were bathed in a light film of perspiration from their carnal intercourse.

  “Oh please, Tonio…I want it to happen now,” she whispered as his rhythm increased. He pushed in harder, deeper, more urgently. And then at last, he felt her inner muscles clench his cock. Spasms grabbed his hardened flesh and milked him until he was drowning in turbulent waters of release. His seed spurted out of him, over and over, and inundated Caroline’s womb. Neither heard the other’s exultant cry as they came together for the first time—lost in a simultaneous release.

  “Tatu, oh Tatu,” Caroline murmured, a little later. ”Hold me tight, please.” She covered the hot skin of his perspiring neck with tiny kisses, and when her eyes finally closed, she sighed deeply.

  Antonio rolled over and gathered her into his arms, spoon fashion. Soon they were both fast asleep, sated and at peace.

  Twice before dawn, they awoke to explore the powerful forces of their desire and the wonderful richness of their mutual fulfillment.

  Chapter 24

  The next three days of their overland journey were spent in much the same fashion. They made love after going to bed, sometimes again during the night, and always upon awakening. They bathed, dressed, breakfasted and got an early start while the day was cool and the air was fresh. The horses were not over-worked; the carriage continued at a leisurely pace.

  During their hours on the road, Antonio had explained his theory to Caroline regarding the crossbreeding of Andalusians and Thoroughbreds. He hoped to purchase two young stallions of superior quality at the Kilburn Stud. Antonio was told that the earl was in residence and waited for them in Tara. Neither Caroline nor Antonio had met the Irishman. He was rarely in London for any length of time. Terence Kilburn’s ship would carry the Thorndykes from Holyhead to Dublin. After that, the earl’s equipage would to drive them cross country to his Irish estate.

  When they reached Shrewsbury, Antonio ordered picnic fare. He asked for directions to an appropriate spot to eat, sheltered by shade trees. The couple stopped to spread a blanket and enjoyed an alfresco meal off roadside while their coachmen, outriders, and horses rested and munched further away, allowing the aristocrats their privacy.

  The weather continued fa
ir; the roads were in good traveling condition. The fourth day out they passed through Wales. The atmosphere was clear enough to see the sparkling blue waters of the Irish Sea from the height of the Cambrian Mountains.

  The newlyweds spent their last overnight at Bangor, well south of Liverpool. The acrid smell of brine accosted them on the breezes blowing in from the salty waters of Caernarfrin Bay. They would cross Anglesey to Holy Island in the morning to the port of Holyhead. There, they would board Lord Kilburn's ship for the short sail to Ireland.

  * * * *

  Tiny Holyhead bustled with sea traffic coming and going in its small harbor. Terence Kilburn had ordered his man to meet Caroline and Antonio at the King's Inn on wharf side.

  There was an outstanding restaurant featuring ocean fare at the inn, since its proprietor made his choices early in the day from local village fishermen. The Thorndykes ate a hearty lunch and prepared to board the earl’s waiting vessel.

  Antonio had sailed between England and Spain a few times. However, this was a first sea voyage for Caroline. She was excited but apprehensive about what she considered to be a vast stretch of empty seawater. She expressed her nervousness to Antonio. “My stomach is queasy just thinking about getting on that ship, Tatu.”

  “Come now, be brave, chica. When were you ever intimidated? Si, this is a new experience, but it’s only a short voyage to Dublin. Look! You can see Ireland’s coastline from the pier here in Holyhead. I know you’ll enjoy the sail. It’s a beautiful day for sailing,” he said, hoping to comfort her. “In autumn I plan a longer journey for us—to Spain—so that my family can meet their new daughter. You want to go, don’t you?”

  “Oh yes, Tonio, and I know you’ll think me cowardly…”

  “Never that, Caro,” he interrupted, tilting her chin up to gaze into her eyes.

  He saw she had clenched her fingers in front of her, before she glanced up at him.” I suppose I’m remembering James and Lorena…and young Joshua…drowning. Oh, Tonio, I'm sorry, but the trip across the water frightens me.”

  He kissed her lips lightly and told her not to worry, repeating everything would be fine.

  The Westhaven equipage, coachmen and menservants had been put up at the inn for the next week while they waited for the duke and duchess to return from Ireland. Antonio gave them final instructions. Meanwhile, footmen brought their baggage to the Killarney and escorted Caroline and Antonio to the ship.

  “Oh, Tonio,” Caroline exclaimed when the tall-masted sailing vessel came into view. “Look! Isn’t the ship beautiful?”

  Lord Kilburn's sleek sloop was a proud sight. Tied up at dockside, her canvas was rolled and secured, appearing to carry a quantity of sail. The main mast was rigged with a crow’s nest for a conder. The bow sprite was a carved figure of a mermaid with red, flowing tresses curling over bare, generous breasts and arms, the curvaceous hips and forked tail painted with silvery-green fish scales. Killarney’s sturdy hull was stained a dark coffee color. The port openings were trimmed in white. Her teak deck shone from many scrubbings; the ship’s brass fittings glistened from more polishing. The entire vessel was spanking clean and looked eminently seaworthy.

  Caroline was greatly reassured.

  Captain Ezra Johnson sent his mate, a Mr. Foster, to greet the duke and duchess. Coming upon the nobles waiting on the quay, their baggage was transferred to Kilburn's ocean going sloop quickly and efficiently.

  A ruddy-faced, square-rigged man himself, the captain met Caroline and Antonio at the upper end of the gangplank. Once a Royal Navy man, he was dressed formally in a blue wool jacket crusted with gold braid and gleaming, brass buttons. When he removed his peaked cap, Caroline saw he had a full head of curly red hair streaked with gray. English Navy or no, there was a touch of the blarney in his background when he greeted them. His lilting Irish brogue offered words of welcome to the newlyweds.

  “It's pleased I am, Yer Grace, to welcome ye both aboard the earl’s Killarney. I be Captain Johnson. Lord Kilburn sends his congratulations and best wishes on your recent marriage.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Antonio replied. “Caroline, may I present Captain Johnson?” The captain made a brief bow, and Caroline gave him a somewhat shaky smile.

  “This is Her Grace’s first voyage, Captain Johnson. I trust the sea is relatively calm today,” Antonio said.

  “Aye, sir—Yer Grace, that it is. It’s not quite as smooth as rippled glass, but there is enough wind to make a speedy crossing. If it holds, we should be in Dublin Bay by nightfall.”

  The captain turned to Caroline. “Rest easy, my lady. Ye have nothing to fear on this trip,” he said, smiling to reassure her.

  “I had a shelter rigged for you on the afterdeck, Yer Graces. Let me get ye settled there and we’ll cast off.”

  Captain Johnson led the way toward the rear of the Killarney, up a short gangway and onto the raised afterdeck. A canvas covering was erected from the aft railing to provide shade from the sun's strong, summer rays and reflection from the sea. The sides could be rolled up or let down to catch the ocean breeze. Several chairs and a few small tables were brought up from the cabins below and temporarily made fast to the deck. It was a delightful spot to make the journey, and Antonio thanked the captain for his thoughtfulness.

  From this vantage, Caroline and Antonio overlooked a vista of three hundred and sixty degrees, well above the activities on the ship’s main deck or the nearby wharf. The wheel and helmsman's station on the ship were situated at the front of the afterdeck.

  The captain was relaying his orders to his first mate. Captain Johnson and his crew, numbering twenty sailors, began to angle the Killarney away from its mooring and out into the busy harbor, and from thence, into the azure waters of the Irish Sea.

  As the ship gained speed, the Killarney reached on a westward tack with filled sails set. A lively breeze rapidly pushed them along on the gentle waves. The captain pointed out the shadowy mass on the western horizon—the low, green hills of Ireland.

  Soon Caroline had lost her apprehension and was enjoying the trip with the enthusiasm of a young girl on a new adventure. The air was clear, the sun bright, and the wind brisk but warm. Seeming to find her sea legs, Caroline rolled with the deck, standing under the canopy where two sides had been rolled up. She held tightly to the ship’s railing, but had removed her bonnet and let the wind whip her rich brown tresses to tangle over her cheeks. Watching her, Antonio saw her eyes sparkling as bright as the sunshine dancing on the white crested waves. The Killarney slashed through the water as the sloop cut a steady swath toward their destination.

  Standing apart from his wife, the duke devoured the sight of Caroline Thorndyke.

  Dios! he thought. She is really mine. Now, I could no more do without her than I could give up breathing.

  It seemed they were in heaven whenever they made love. It was as if the world ended there, their mutual passion and satisfaction was so overwhelming. Caroline was so responsive that Antonio couldn’t get enough of her. He waited anxiously to hear the words she’d whisper to him—the love words he needed to hear from her lips. But she hadn’t said them—yet.

  * * * *

  As the Killarney sailed northwest towards Dublin Harbor, the ship ran up the isle’s eastern coast on its port side. It was close enough for Caroline and Antonio to marvel at the lush green of the land and the deep purple of the Wicklow Mountains. Captain Johnson extolled the beauty of his homeland, particularly the area known as the central plain, Ireland’s heart. English and Anglo-Irish inhabitants owned much of Ireland’s fertile soil.

  “The world’s foinest cattle and horses are bred in Ireland,” Ezra bragged. “’Tis here ye’ll find Lord Kilburn's estate—home of the Kilburn Stud.”

  As the ship drew nearer to Dublin, the heat of the day was fading, and the air took on a definite chill. A crewman dropped the sides of the canopy to cut the wind. “The Atlantic Ocean on our west and the prevailing southwest wind that’s carrying us to Dublin keep the clima
te cool but mild, Yer Grace,” Captain Johnson explained when he saw Caroline shiver. She had asked to have someone bring her a heavier wrap.

  “Ah, 'tis a beautiful place, Ireland. As green as heaven can be in summer…that's where she gets her name…the Emerald Isle. The breeze comin' across the water in warm weather kisses her misty shores like a lover. Just like now,” he told them. “’Tis a rare sight to see any snow on the Isle in winter, exceptin' p'haps in the mountains. Ye see, the ocean water is warmer than the land then, and those same winds keep the temperature above freezin'. 'Tis changeable weather, though. We can run through heavy mist to pourin' rainstorms to sparklin' sunshine in a matter of hours.” Ezra grinned. “'Twas rainin' cats and dogs when we left Dublin and look at it now.”

  The late afternoon sun shone down on countless shades of green. Additional muted colors met the eye along with mud houses topped by thatched roofs. They crouched in tiny villages, as the ship progressed up the coast. The azure blue of salt water changed to a darker hue where the River Liffey emptied the estuary’s turbulent waters into the sea after wending its way through the center of Dublin and cutting the city in two. The sun was sinking below the western horizon as the Killarney hove-to, a short distance from dockside, the captain preferring the ship to spend the night riding at anchor.

  There being aristocratic guests aboard, the ship's cook prepared a special meal. The duke and duchess shared it with Captain Johnson and Mr. Foster, the first mate.

  Both seafaring men, they were born not far from Dublin and had taken to the sea at an early age. Captain Johnson had been a childish seaman aboard a British naval vessel fighting in the waters off Trafalgar in 1805 when Nelson defeated the French and Spanish fleets.

  “’Tis a much harder life in Ireland than in England, Yer Grace,” the captain explained. “I must warn ye to be careful movin' about. Yer English nobility ain’t looked upon kindly.”

  “I must plead ignorance, Captain Johnson,” Antonio replied. “I’ve been part of English nobility for such a short time; I don’t know the situation with the Irish. It was only lately that I learned Weston had holdings in County Meath. Apparently, the property is quite near the Kilburn Stud.”