My Fair Princess

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Should I be taking notes? I didn’t realize we were having another lesson.”

  He finally got his vest off and flung it onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor. “I have every intention of schooling you, sweetheart. All night.”

  She was trying to think of an appropriate riposte when he pulled his shirt over his head. Leverton clothed must always impress. Half-naked, he was magnificent. His shoulders were broad, and his arms were corded with muscle. Light brown hair dusted his brawny chest, then arrowed down to darken in a line over his taut stomach.

  Gillian had to swallow a few times before she could speak. “Right now, you look more like a pirate than a teacher.” A pirate with a massive erection in his breeches. Just looking at it made her go soft and wet.

  “And I’m about to do a little marauding right now,” he said with a mock growl.

  She couldn’t help laughing.

  Her amusement died a moment later when he snatched her up into his arms and fastened his lips around her nipple. When he sucked on her, she had to bite back a cry. Desperately, she clung to his waist. His body was hot and rock hard under her fingertips.

  Charles bent her back over his arm, devouring first one breast, then the other. He licked and sucked, drawing on her nipples until they ached with delicious fire. She squirmed and hooked a heel around his thigh, plastering herself flush against him. Gillian rubbed along his erection, trying to bring him against the peak of her sex. Delicious little contractions began deep inside, sending tingles racing through her body.

  With his mouth on her breasts and his cock pressing against her, Gillian gave herself up to the building waves of sensation. She flexed against him, feeling the approach of her climax.

  Suddenly, he pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. Gillian had to work to get her vision to focus on his somewhat strained-looking features. “Why . . . why did you stop?” she stuttered.

  “Because you’re too close. It’s too soon.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “One can do it more than once in an evening, can’t one?”

  He seemed momentarily stunned before he unleashed a grin. “Yes, and I think that’s an eminently desirable goal for both of us.”

  “And how do we go about achieving such a laudable goal?”

  “First, you sit on the chaise,” he said, urging her gently down. He loomed over her. Gillian swore his avid gaze felt like a touch, tracing over her sensitized skin. Then he lowered himself to kneel between her legs.

  Slowly, gently, as if relishing every second, he pushed her thighs wide. “So beautiful,” he whispered.

  Gillian blushed to be so utterly exposed. But she did feel beautiful. How could she not, when he gazed at her with so much desire?

  He trailed a hand from her throat down over one breast—her nipple damp and flushed from his attentions. “Look at you, love,” he said in a raspy voice.

  When he brushed his fingers over her stomach, Gillian could barely keep still. And when he finally delved between her thighs, she moaned and let her head fall back against the soft cushions.

  Charles was setting her body alight with delicious, consuming fire. He toyed with her stiff little bud, rubbing it with a blunt fingertip. Gillian opened her legs even wider and wiggled her bottom, desperate for more sensation.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said roughly. When he carefully pressed a finger inside her body, she arched up on a breathy cry.

  “I want you,” she gasped. “Inside me.”

  “And you shall have that. Just not quite yet.”

  When he slipped his hands under her bottom and tilted her up, Gillian blinked. “What—”

  She lost the ability to think coherently—much less talk—when he bent and fastened his mouth on her.

  Good God. Pietro had never done anything like that.

  Gillian was still getting over the shock of Charles’s head between her legs when he glanced up to meet her gaze. His eyes gleamed with a decidedly improper combination of lust and amusement.

  “Did you like that, sweet?” he murmured.

  “Um, I’m not quite sure, yet.”

  One of his eyebrows shot up. “No? Then I’m sure you’ll want me to continue.”

  “Hmm, yes. It might be useful to be certain about it.”

  “I’d like to be very certain.” In a leisurely fashion, he lifted her legs, one after the other, and rested them on his shoulders. She thought she’d been exposed before, but clearly she’d been wrong. Never in her life had she felt so intensely vulnerable.

  And utterly wonderful.

  “Ready?” he murmured as he bent to her again.

  She could barely draw breath, so she simply gave him a tight nod.

  And fell to pieces under his skillful mouth. Gillian had no choice but to give herself up to him. She writhed under his tongue, but he clamped firm hands on her thighs, holding her open for the passionate assault.

  She could hardly believe it was happening. Leverton was the most disciplined man in the world. A paragon of civility and good taste, a man who made Beau Brummel seem like a failure. And yet here he was, crouched between her thighs like an untamed beast, lavishing her with wild, primitive pleasure. He’d bared her body and soul, and yet never had she felt so safe and cherished.

  Gillian was madly in love with him, and it frightened her half to death.

  When he pushed two fingers inside her, then flicked his tongue over the tight knot of her sex, Gillian curled forward and grabbed his shoulders. “Charles, stop,” she panted. “It’s too much. You’re driving me insane.”

  He raised his head. His features were tight with passion, and his eyes glittered with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. But he immediately drew his hand from her body and gently lifted her legs down.

  “Do you really want me to stop?” he asked in a husky voice.

  “Yes . . . no.” She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Blast. I sound like an idiot.” How could she tell him that it wasn’t the physical sensations that overwhelmed her, but what he was doing to her emotions?

  Charles leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss that tasted like musk and port. She sighed and kissed him back. It was earthy and honest, and she loved it. He pulled back a bit and then gave her a sly grin. “From your reaction, I’m assuming this isn’t a Sicilian custom.”

  She languidly draped her arms over his shoulders. “Not in my part of Sicily, anyway.”

  “Then I’m glad I was your first. But you do still seem a bit taken aback, Miss Dryden.”

  “Stunned, more like it. I never imagined such a thing. It was a bit overwhelming, I admit.”

  He frowned. “Gillian—”

  She ruffled his hair. “I loved it. It just takes some getting used to. It’s very . . .”

  “Intimate?”

  She nodded.

  He sat back on his heels and studied her. “Then why don’t you show me what you feel comfortable with.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  He waggled a hand. “This, remember? You told me on the beach.”

  Gillian stared at him and then burst into laughter. “You cannot be serious.”

  His smile was slow and predatory. “I am. In fact, I’ve been thinking about it ever since that night. I’d love to watch you, Gillian. Teach me what gives you pleasure.”

  While he spoke, he slowly unbuttoned the fall of his breeches. When he freed himself, her mouth went dry. His request was outrageous and exciting—especially coming from him—and she was suddenly wild to do whatever he wanted.

  She grabbed a pillow to stuff behind her back, then wriggled closer to the edge of the chaise and tucked her knees snug against his hips. Then, blushing, she reached between her thighs, slipping her hand between her soft, damp folds.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” Charles growled. “Show me what you like. God, you’re so gorgeous.”

  While she pleasured herself, Charles curled his big hands over her breasts. He stroked and played, then gentl
y dragged his thumbs over her stiff nipples. Gillian moaned and arched into his hands. She increased the pressure between her thighs, rubbing the slick, hard knot. Pleasure radiated from beneath her fingertips, storming through her body, rapidly taking her to the edge.

  When Charles leaned in and sucked her breast into his mouth, gently nipping her, she climaxed instantly. Gillian grabbed his shoulders, shuddering as contractions rippled through her body in luxurious waves.

  Before the wonderful sensation faded, Charles fitted himself to her body and slowly pushed deep. Gillian tucked her legs around his waist and pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He felt enormous and wonderful inside her, filling her and stealing her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, hugging the emotion as tightly as she hugged him.

  He nudged her chin up with a gentle hand. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

  She sucked in a wavering breath. Charles was smiling down at her with an expression so tender that her vision went blurry. “Oh, blast,” she said in a gruff voice. “You’re turning me into an absolute watering pot.”

  “Is it all right?” His voice rumbled through her.

  She let out a happy sigh and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “It feels perfect. Which shouldn’t surprise me, I suppose.”

  “Love, I’m just getting started.”

  And then he started to move. Slowly at first, letting her ride through the fading echo of her climax. But then he slipped his hands under her bottom and tilted her up to meet him. He pushed harder now, and even deeper. Unbelievably, another climax built inside where he stroked her over and over.

  “Oh, Charles,” she gasped, clinging to him. She threw back her head, needing to see him, and needing him to see what she felt in her heart. That she loved him, and always would. There would never be anyone but him.

  He stared at her, his gaze turbulent with passion. “Yes, love, that’s it. Come for me again.”

  And she did, flying once more. Instinctively, her body curled around him and clung tight, as if only he could keep her tethered to the earth. With a groan, Charles pushed into her one last time and came with a hard shudder. For an endless moment, they seemed to hang suspended, before collapsing in a glorious tangle of limbs.

  After a minute or so, Charles gently untangled them and propped her back on the chaise. Then he joined her, easily lifting her to rest on top of him.

  “All right, love?” he murmured, pressing a kiss on the top of her head.

  She nodded, struggling for a moment to wrestle her emotions under control. “I do believe I’m splendid,” she said, propping her chin on his chest. “Although I certainly wasn’t expecting so torrid an encounter. You are full of surprises, Your Grace, I must say.”

  His slow answering smile was full of promise. “A lifetime of them with you, I hope.”

  When it came to love, Gillian had never dared hope before. Perhaps, finally, she could.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Charles frowned at Scunthorpe. “You’ve heard nothing?”

  The estate manager’s impassive expression didn’t change, but Charles fancied he saw something shift in his gaze. Scunthorpe ducked his head and peered down at the floor, as if inspecting the Oriental pattern on the library carpet. But when he looked up, his gaze conveyed only regret—presumably for disappointing his employer. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve heard nothing of any relevance about the smugglers, and certainly nothing about the whereabouts of the missing jewels.”

  Charles leaned back in his chair, frustration leaching away his good mood. Gillian would be with him momentarily. He wished he had better news to impart.

  “Is there anything else, sir?” Scunthorpe gently prompted after a long pause.

  Charles’s manager’s report didn’t make sense, especially in light of the letter Charles had received from Andris, the runner from Bow Street. But Scunthorpe was a diligent manager, and he had never had cause to doubt his word. “No, that’s all for now. But keep an ear to the ground. I refuse to believe those men have simply disappeared into thin air.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Scunthorpe, clearly relieved to be dismissed, hurried toward the door. Perhaps he worried that his failure to make any progress on the robbery would adversely affect his employment. It wouldn’t, but Charles paid all his employees more than a fair wage, and he had to admit that he’d expected better. He’d placed a great deal of responsibility in Scunthorpe’s hands and had never questioned his judgment before.

  But something was off, and it would nag at him until he tracked the feeling to its source. That meant it was time to take a more direct role in the affair. Charles had been reluctant to go poking around, since it was likely the locals wouldn’t be willing to share what they knew about the smuggling gangs. Some of them might be involved in the runs themselves. Even if they weren’t, the locals had to live with smugglers and owlers in their midst. Yes, they owed their duke a certain degree of loyalty, but he couldn’t be there every moment to protect his people from the retribution that could result if they talked.

  There was nothing romantic about free trading. Many smugglers would think nothing of killing anyone who endangered their trade.

  There was a light tap on the door just as Scunthorpe reached it. He opened it, then stepped back when Gillian entered.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, looking uncertain. “Hewitt said that you wished to see me, but I can come back later.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Scunthorpe said. “I was just leaving.”

  Charles frowned at the man’s attitude. It was just shy of outright disrespect.

  “Good morning, Mr. Scunthorpe,” Gillian said. “It’s a lovely day, is it not?” She gave him a sweet smile, but held her ground, deliberately blocking the doorway.

  With obvious reluctance, Scunthorpe finally gave her a slight bow. “Good morning, Miss Dryden. Yes, it seems a fine day.”

  She peered at him with affected concern. “Are you well, Mr. Scunthorpe? You seem a tad splenetic this morning. I do hope you’re not coming down with something. Or perhaps His Grace is piling on the work. He’s such a dreadful taskmaster, don’t you think? Quite shocking.”

  Charles had to repress a grin at her tactics. The look on Scunthorpe’s face suggested she’d just poked him in the backside with a sharp implement. “I am very well, thank you,” he said in a stiff tone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Gillian stepped aside. “Have a good day,” she called after the manager as he hurried from the room.

  Shaking her head, she shut the door. Charles crossed the room to meet her.

  “I do not like that man,” she said.

  “I can see that, but you handled him very well.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

  She gave him a rather shy smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to manage his sort. They expect to put me in my place and are quite surprised when it doesn’t work.”

  Anger flickered within him. “You shouldn’t have to manage it. And you can be sure I’ll be speaking to Scunthorpe about his inappropriate demeanor.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t. It tends to make things worse,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “Best to just let me deal with it in my own way.”

  “Gillian, you’re going to be a duchess. You don’t have to put up with that sort of nonsense.”

  She tilted her head. “No, but it shouldn’t matter whether I’m a duchess or not, don’t you think?”

  He winced. “Of course it shouldn’t. Forgive me, love. That was rather clumsy of me.”

  She patted his cheek. “I am rather good at the social niceties, as you know. Perhaps I should be giving you lessons, instead of the other way around.”

  “Like the lessons you taught me last night?”

  Their encounter had certainly been a revelation. Despite her assertion that she wasn’t an innocent, it was clear she’d had very little experience when it came to lovemaking. But her enthusiasm and willingness to experiment had leveled him.
He suspected he would be on his deathbed before he forgot what they’d done on that chaise, and then later in front of the fire. Charles hoped those memories would soon be replaced with many more created over a lifetime with her.

  “None of that nonsense, sir,” she said in a stern voice. “You’ll make me blush.”

  He laughed and drew her over to a club chair in front of his desk. He would have preferred the chaise, but that was too tempting. It was hard enough keeping his hands off her, especially since she was looking so lovely in a primrose-colored gown that hugged her gentle curves and made her tanned complexion glow with health.

  “You’re looking very fetching this morning, sweetheart. I quite like that gown on you.”

  “I’m sure I look a complete hag, since you kept me up for most of the night. Honestly, I thought you would never let me go to sleep.” Then she squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God. I can’t believe I just said that. How indelicate of me.”

  “Actually, I believe you kept me up for most of the night.”

  Her eyes popped open. “Good heavens, Charles, that’s quite a naughty jest. What’s come over you?”

  “You have. It’s the oddest thing, isn’t it? Here I am shocking you, instead of the other way around.”

  “I do hope you’re not going to regret what’s happened between us,” she said. “My throwing you off your feed, I mean.”

  Throwing him off his feed? She’d turned his life upside down, and it felt splendid, which surprised the hell out of him.

  He leaned in to kiss her, and, after a moment of hesitation, she stretched up to meet him, instantly opening her mouth to his questing tongue. It was hard to stop, but Charles forced himself to. “That’s enough of that, or I’ll have you right back where we were a few hours ago.”

  “Yes, we must avoid such things,” she said, sounding breathless. “You might become unhinged if we gave in to that sort of temptation in broad daylight.”

  “I can think of no more delightful way to lose my mind,” he said with mock solemnity.

  She tried—and failed—to hold back a smile. “You are too kind, Your Grace. Now, did you wish to speak with me about something specific?”