The Unclaimed Duchess

by Jenna Petersen

  He frowned as he stopped walking the room. Somehow he didn’t like the idea that Anne would simply accept the end of their union. She’d fought so hard to stay at his side and sacrificed so much, the thought that she would then submit to his will actually caused a bit of a sting.

  Which was markedly unfair and he knew it.

  Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Rhys groaned. He had hoped today would somehow make his future path all the clearer, but Simon had muddied everything rather than clarified it. His brother’s points about the fate Rhys would present to his mother and sisters if he revealed the truth of his parentage were good ones. And Simon’s shock that he would leave Anne resonated in Rhys as well.

  Whether he admitted it aloud or not, the fact was that the idea of losing Anne was beginning to make him feel physically sick. It was funny, he’d been betrothed to the woman for years, as close to her as he could ever wish to be, but he had taken her for granted.

  It had taken this, it had taken the fact that he wasn’t who he thought he was, that he couldn’t have the life with her that he had so meticulously planned, it had taken her unexpected reaction to chase him when he left…that was how he had truly come to know the remarkable woman who was, at least for a short while longer, his wife.

  And he would regret losing her for the rest of his days.

  But if he never told anyone the truth, he could protect his family. And he could keep Anne. A bewitching thought, indeed. If only a blackmailer wasn’t looming on the horizon, a harbinger of doom and scandal.

  “Damn it,” Rhys growled as he threw the door to his office wide and exited the suddenly stuffy chamber.

  He was only tired, that was why he could almost convince himself he could keep his life. Once he slept, all the fog would clear and he would be able to stop allowing his emotions to lead him. He would remember what he was, who he was, and the duty he held to his father’s title and its future. And then he would figure out how to handle all those unpleasant answers to equally difficult questions.

  He moved up the stairs in the quiet. Most of the servants were already abed or finishing their daily duties. In these moments he could almost pretend he was alone.

  Except he wasn’t.

  He reached the top of the staircase and looked down the long, dim hallway to his left. In a chamber just a short distance from his own, his wife slept. His beautiful, beguiling wife.

  He moved toward her door and there he hesitated, looking at the smooth surface for what seemed like an eternity. If he knocked, she would allow him in. Even if she was distancing herself from him, he knew…he hoped on some level…that she still cared.

  Certainly there remained a spark of awareness and desire between them that wouldn’t be denied if he allowed it even the slightest opening.

  But as exciting as that thought was, as much as he longed to fall into the shelter of her arms and spend the next few hours tasting her tempting body, it wasn’t fair of him to consider such a thing. To touch her would be to give her false hope, and it would only serve to torment him more once the night was over.

  With a sigh, he abandoned her door and went to his own chamber. He stepped into his dressing room. The bell for his valet was near, but he decided against it. He’d been undressing himself for some time now in the country. He could do it again.

  He shed his jacket, cravat, and shirt where he stood, then sat down in the chair beside the fire to remove his boots. When he stood back up, clad only in trousers, that was when he saw her.

  Through the open door that led to his bedchamber, his big bed was visible. And lying across it, her dark hair down around her pale shoulders and her slender body just barely clad in scraps of silk and lace, was Anne. She was on her side, propped up on her elbow, and all she did was watch him with those green-blue eyes that seemed to see his soul even when he tried to conceal it.

  She didn’t move or speak, she simply lay there waiting. For him.

  She was temptation embodied. He moved toward her, almost against his will, and only stopped as he stepped over the threshold into the other room. He gaped at her silently, unable to help himself.

  Even on their wedding night what seemed like a lifetime ago, Anne hadn’t worn such sensual attire. Then he had found her in a plain cotton night shift, her hair back in a loose braid, the perfect picture of innocence. And it had driven him wild, almost out of control.

  Tonight there was no innocence in his wife’s stare, nor in her nightgown. It barely skimmed her thighs, and the white lace that covered the rounded curves of her breasts couldn’t conceal the thrusting pinkness of her hard nipples beneath. This gown was meant to seduce and tempt.

  It did its job fully, for Rhys felt so hard that he might explode if she so much as touched him.

  “Anne,” he managed past dry lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you went to bed.”

  Slowly she pushed to her feet. The silky folds of her gown shifted, brushing over her bare skin the way he longed to do with his hands, his lips. She moved toward him in a few hip-swishing steps, and he caught a whiff of her subtle perfume on the air. God, she smelled like sunshine and lilacs and happiness. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and breathe her in until he never lost the scent.

  Instead he clenched his fists at his sides and awaited her answer to his question.

  “I did go to bed,” she said softly. “Your bed.”

  He swallowed hard as she moved forward a second time. Now her body almost touched his, and he felt her breath on his skin when she looked up at him.

  “Your bed is where I belong, Rhys. You know that to be true.”

  She reached a hand up and rested her fingers against the bare flesh over his heart. Rhys was certain she could feel it beating wildly, out of control because of her.

  “No,” he managed to croak out, but the denial didn’t sound very convincing.

  He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to give himself some focus, but the image of Anne lingered in his mind, even when he couldn’t see her. In a flash, he fantasized about all the pleasures they could share this night.

  “No!” he repeated, this time with more force as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently removed it from his chest. “I cannot do this. We cannot.”

  He thought he saw a brief flash of uncertainty as he released her, but then it was gone and the seductive hint of a smile tilted Anne’s lips.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” she purred, moving closer again. This time the soft silk of her gown brushed against his naked skin. “I know for certain we are able to do this. We’ve done this and so much more before. To both of our great pleasures. Or do you now deny that?”

  Rhys stared at her, wide-eyed. This was a new side of Anne. Another part of her he’d never been aware existed. But he could hardly resist her sensual tone, the way her fingers felt as she pressed the tips of them to his chest once again. Only this time she let them slowly glide down his stomach and to his waistband.

  Rhys sucked in a breath at the lightning pleasure of that act. His cock, already hard, seemed to swell further, pressing with increasing discomfort against his pants front.

  “Do you, Rhys?” she pressed, even as she slipped one button of his fly free. Her gaze never left his. The green-blue sucked him in, forcing him to look at her with an unblinking stare. “Do you deny we have been most proficient in pleasuring each other?”

  He could hardly find breath, let alone speak, but somehow Rhys managed to force a few words past his lips. “No. I don’t deny that, Anne, but—”

  Before he could finish, she leaned forward and her mouth pressed to his, silencing his words, ending his denials, and setting his already edgy body on fire.

  “God,” he groaned into her mouth before he crushed his arms around her and drove his tongue between her open lips.

  She cried out loudly, lifting up on her tiptoes to eagerly meet his aggressive tongue, sliding her silk-clad body against his until he was aware of each nerve ending he possessed because every one
of them was screaming with intense pleasure.

  He felt her hands moving, slower now because they were trapped by his embrace, but still able to unbutton his trousers after a few struggling moments. His pants waist parted and the fabric slid down a few inches. This time when she moved against him, he felt the delicious sensation of silk stroking the base of his cock.

  He drew away with a gasp of pleasure as his head dipped back a fraction. Anne smiled up at him, a possessive, feral expression he had never before seen on her otherwise serene and kind face.

  But he liked it. Probably far too much for his own good.

  “You see, my love,” she whispered as she shoved him backward toward the bed. “You need this. You need me, especially after what you endured today. Why do you fight what you can’t deny?”

  Rhys swallowed hard. Need. Anne was almost perfectly repeating his own thoughts in his office just a few moments ago. He did need her. And now, racked by pain, tormented by unpleasant, impossible choices, that need pulsed even stronger because he knew she could make him forget.

  Couldn’t he have just a short respite? Couldn’t he accept this comfort she offered? He would end it before it went too far.

  If he had an answer to his internal query, he didn’t think it. Before he could, Anne pressed herself to him, leaning her full weight to his body, and kissed him a second time, this time tasting him, rubbing against him in a most pleasing and overpowering way.

  His hands tangled in her soft hair, maneuvering her for the best access to her hot, soft lips. Leaning against the edge of the bed, he surrendered himself to the feel of her, the flavor of her, the erotic escape she offered with every fiber of her being.

  Anne struggled for calm, for air as she held Rhys closer and kissed him with all the love, all the desperation, all the hope for their future she still held in her heart.

  She’d never seduced him before. Oh, she’d made a lame attempt to do so in the countryside at their picnic, but tonight was different. Tonight she had one goal in mind and she had to hold fast to that goal.

  Difficult considering how swept away she was by the pleasure of Rhys’s touch.

  She steeled herself and gently pushed. Rhys fell back across his bed without any resistance, but he clung to her and she fell with him. His pants slipped farther down as they moved and his cock came free to stroke against her bare leg when she landed atop him.

  She reveled in the stroke of Rhys’s skin, and in the way her body reacted instantly and intensely. With hardly more than a kiss, her empty body clenched, hot and wet and ready for him. Her nipples tingled, thrusting hard against the lacy fabric of the silky night shift she wore. Every touch, every breath seemed to resonate on some deeper level of her being, more amplified because she was only focused on joining herself to Rhys.

  She drew back, shifting until she was beside him instead of on top of him. That would come…later. Right now she needed to make him long for her. To bring him to the very edge of his control until he was so blinded that he couldn’t resist what she offered.

  But he seemed to have other plans. Without any effort, he flipped her onto her back and drove hard into her mouth with his tongue. He stroked and thrust, driving her mad as his hard body writhed over hers with a promise of pleasure and desire. Then he drew back and scraped his teeth over her throat, gliding lower with his mouth even as he caught the lacy straps of her nightgown with his fingers to lower it away from her shoulders. The shift was delicate, and the strength with which he pulled tore it.

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned, though he never stopped dropping his mouth lower and lower.

  “No you’re not,” she whispered, arching against him as he pushed the ripped fabric aside and latched on to her hard nipple with his wet lips. “And neither am I.”

  He sucked and her vision blurred. God, the things he did to her, the way he made her feel. She was alive when she was with him. Womanly. Owned and cherished in the way she’d always dreamed.

  She would not lose this. She refused.

  He dragged his mouth lower, tasting her belly as he shoved the tattered remains of her nightgown away. She kicked it from her bare ankle and clenched her fingers into his hair as he finally reached the sensitive, throbbing place between her legs.

  He tasted her delicately, with just the tip of his tongue tracing her waiting slit, but it was enough to begin the little tremors of release. It had been days since they joined together and Anne was on edge, more ready for him than she had ever been before.

  If he sensed that, he didn’t seem in any mood to tease. He pushed her legs open, holding her wide with rough hands, and dragged his tongue over her again and again.

  She lifted her hips to meet him, sobbing out incoherent encouragement as he sucked and licked and tasted her in every way. And then, like a bolt from the sky, her release crested over her. Powerful waves of pleasure came one after another, never allowing her rest, never giving her peace. Nor did Rhys as he sucked and sucked her clit until she was weak against the pillows, unable to respond except to tremble when another blast of pleasure moved through her.

  Rhys withdrew as the last shivers shook her, pressing a wet kiss to her thigh before he moved back up her body. She lifted into a passionate kiss and wrapped her arms around him, tasting her own essence on his lips.

  “There is nothing better than seeing you come,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to her temple.

  “Nothing?” she teased as she rubbed herself against him gently. “I think there are some things.”

  Her heart throbbed. From excitement, yes, but also from nervousness. The time had come to enact her plan. Once she started, she wouldn’t be able to go back. This was her final opportunity.

  “I cannot think of one right now,” he teased as he moved to his side next to her.

  “I can,” she murmured, then she rolled over, moving him to his back as she kissed him once more. She felt the tension leave him as their tongues tangled, the guardedness he so often possessed. Yes, she wanted his surrender.

  He gave it when she did as he had done not a moment before. She glided her mouth down his body, nibbling on his flesh, tasting and sucking until he was arching and moaning beneath her. She reached his cock, thinking of the last time he’d been in her mouth. She had been able to steal his control, just a little, that day.

  Tonight she needed it all.

  She drew him between her lips, feeling the heat of him on her tongue, tasting the first salty drop of his essence that had leaked out while he pleasured her. Above her, Rhys let out a curse and clenched his fists at her shoulders while she took his entire length into her mouth and slowly withdrew.

  “God, Anne,” he murmured.

  She looked up, watching the tension line his face. With a pop, she let his cock exit her lips.

  “Let me give this to you, Rhys,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He hesitated a moment, but then he nodded. When he flopped back on the pillows, she no longer felt resistance from him. He completely surrendered while she pleasured him.

  With careful movements, she built his desire, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. But she never allowed complete satisfaction. Not yet. She kept him at the ready with her pace and the pressure of her tongue until she knew he was almost there. Ready to explode.

  And then she executed her plan. With a swift movement, she slid up his body, spread her legs, and lowered her wet slit over him, taking his cock into her body for the first time since their honeymoon what seemed like years before.

  He shuddered when her sheath squeezed over him and she couldn’t help but do the same as his thick length stretched her. It had been so long, and the last time he took her the relationship between them had been so different. Then she’d been nervous, thinking about being right and “perfect” as he seemed to expect. And he had appeared distracted, not fully engulfed in the moment, but more fulfilling a duty.

  Now she felt the true power of being joined to this man she loved. And the pleasure of that was more
powerful than any she had ever known.

  But the moment passed too quickly. When Rhys’s eyes cleared and then widened as if he just realized what was happening between them, she knew she had to hurry, for he was beginning to remember all the reasons why he couldn’t allow for this wonderful joining. She rolled her hips over him, thrusting his member in and out of her welcoming body with a swift, utterly intoxicating rhythm.

  “Anne,” he moaned, reaching for her hips, though she wasn’t certain if that was meant to draw her closer or to push her away. It seemed he didn’t know, either, for when his fingers closed around her flesh, he simply held there.

  “Please,” she gasped, continuing to jerk over him. “J-just for a moment, Rhys. Please.”

  He let out a strangled sound, but then he nodded. “A moment. God, you feel so good.”

  His hips began to lift beneath her and Anne gasped as the pleasure he’d brought her with his tongue mounted within her womb once more. Only this time it was different, more intense because they were joined as a man and his wife should be. He was hers. She was his.

  The orgasm hit her hard and her hips increased their pace immediately as she cried out.

  The veins in Rhys’s neck began to throb and he shouted, “Anne, I must pull away.”

  The order drew her from the fog of her pleasure. But instead of removing her body as he requested, Anne locked her thighs at his sides. She collapsed over him, kissing him hard as she continued to thrust, thrust, thrust.

  “Anne,” he gasped into her mouth.

  But it was too late. Every fiber of his being tensed and then, as he shouted a roar so loud it seemed to shake the bed, his essence pumped within her.

  She collapsed over him, panting and sweaty as exhaustion and relief overtook her.

  There. It was done. And it had been magnificent. Everything she’d ever dreamed she could share with her husband and more.

  Rhys lay beneath her for far too short a time. Then he gently rolled her away and got to his feet. He said nothing, simply paced across the quiet room, his back to her and his shoulders shaking as he stared at the fire crackling in the hearth.