A Heart of a Duke Regency Collection : Volume 2--A Regency Bundle

by Christi Caldwell

  “Surely not?” he demanded, hoarsely.

  “Surely,” she countered. “You just…did not see me, Daniel. You were too busy.” Flirting on the sidelines with gloriously clad beauties and voluptuous creatures with rouged lips and eyes. How she’d despised those ladies for having replaced her and earned Daniel’s affection in ways she’d only dreamed. “I sat in those seats, in awe of your confidence amongst the ton.” She chuckled. “I spent so many nights hating you for your ease.”

  Daniel caressed his knuckles down her cheek in a whispery soft touch. “I am so sorry.” He stilled. Then, as long as she’d known him, he’d never been one to apologize. He’d often found a roundabout way of distracting a person from any crime he’d been guilty of before uttering them.

  She frowned at him. “Don’t you dare go pitying me.” Not wanting that pulling emotion, Daphne stepped away, wandering deeper into the ballroom. “It was not all bad.” For a time, it had been gloriously wonderful. Ultimately, she’d paid the price for that excitement. She stopped in the middle of the dance floor, under the enormous chandelier. “After a month of misery, I met him.” She tilted her head and stared at those crystal teardrops dangling from that grand piece.

  “Did you love him?” Daniel called behind her, bringing her attention back.

  The flippant words on her lips about rakes not knowing of or believing in love faded with the somber set to his chiseled features. “I loved what he told me,” she said, in truth. “I loved how he made me feel and the excitement that came with a man such as him ever wanting…” A woman such as me. She grimaced. With a woman’s eyes, she now saw what easy prey she’d been for a man like Lord Leopold Dunlop. The second son of a powerful nobleman, he’d been untitled, but that truth had never mattered. She’d been so desperate for affection she’d given him a gift he’d never deserved. In the days after his betrayal, she’d resolved to never be a weak, pathetic woman dependent on any gentleman. She straightened and then gasped, finding Daniel a handful of steps away. Her heart thumped hard at his nearness. “Do you know how many times he danced with me?”

  He gave his head a slight shake, dislodging a chestnut lock. “How many?” His was a harsh demand.

  Daphne stretched her fingertips and brushed the loose strand back; luxuriant like satin. Unlike Lord Leopold’s who’d caked his hair in thick oil. “Not once, Daniel,” she murmured. “Through the whole of my Season, we didn’t dance even one set. I told myself it was because he loved me and didn’t wish me to humiliate myself. I later learned different.” Never before had she breathed word of Lord Leopold Dunlop to anyone. He existed as nothing more than a past mistake, one she didn’t allow herself to think on. In speaking of those three months to someone, there was something freeing that left her with a lightness in her chest. Of course, it should be Daniel. There had only ever been him in her life. Terror battered at her senses. For there could never be anything between her and Daniel. Nothing, honorable.

  An animalistic growl rumbled deep in his chest. With the fiery rage burning from within the depths of his eyes, he was the boy who’d beat one of the villagers’ sons for having stolen a kiss from her when she’d been a girl of ten. “No wonder you hate me. It was my fault.”

  She puzzled her brow.

  He slashed the air with his hand. “If I had been there—”

  Her small bark of laughter cut into his misplaced guilt. “The arrogance of you, Daniel Winterbourne, taking ownership of my mistake.” She looked him squarely in the eye. “It was my mistake and you being my friend would have never undone it.”

  A thick silence descended on the ballroom.

  Daphne shattered it. “I should return to my—” Her words ended on a gasp as he shot an arm out and curved it about her waist. With his spare hand, he tossed aside her cane, where it landed with a noisy clatter upon the marble. She eyed the brown stick and then swiveled her gaze up to Daniel’s. “What are you doing?” she asked, breathless from the press of his hand through the fabric of her dress.

  He lowered his lips close to her ears and the hint of brandy and cinnamon, an intoxicating blend of strong and sweet, filled her senses. “Eighteen years is entirely too long to not dance or swim or ride. I’m dancing with you, Daphne.” How many times during her Season had she secretly wished to be waltzed about by him? “The bastard who stole your virtue was a bloody fool, without a jot of sense to see the treasure he held.”

  And God help her for the folly from which she would never recover from, Daphne fell deeper in love with him, there amidst the empty ballroom with the London stars twinkling outside the crystal windows as her witness. It was folly and dangerous, and far worse than any mistake she’d made with Lord Leopold and, yet, it had always been Daniel. With her mind churning slowly, he guided her through the first step.

  “Relax, Daphne,” he whispered, against her ear. “I’ll not bite.” He flashed another one of his seductive grins. “Unless you wish it.” And just like that, the panic dissipated and she laughed. Relaxing in his arms, she turned herself over to this moment.

  She’d loved Daniel Winterbourne since he’d carried her across the countryside. And she loved him for being a man who didn’t see her disfigurement…a man who saw she was capable and not an object to be pitied. And a man who made her feel alive. In ways she’d never had in the whole of her life. There would never be more, could never be more. With his love for wickedness, Daniel would never be constant and she could never be with a rake. But there would be this and it would be enough.

  Liar. I want all of him… Daphne faltered and he gripped her, deepening this relentless hold he’d managed. “I am falling all over you,” she said, under her breath.

  Daniel gave her a slow, wicked wink. “I am accustomed to it, love,” he purred, startling another laugh from her. He joined her, that deep rumbling from his chest was unfettered and deep, pure in his joy. And how beautifully wonderful it was to share in his unfettered abandon.

  “You are hopelessly arrogant, Daniel Winterbourne,” she said, after their like amusement had faded. Handsome. Clever. Charming. He was nearly everything most ladies aspired to. Nearly. He’d never be faithful and, for that, there could not be anything with him. Her heart paused. Of course there couldn’t. To him, she’d only ever be the girl he’d once been friends with and, now, was a companion for his sister. His gentle caress and tender embrace were no different than anything he’d given to so many women before her.

  Daniel guided her in a small circle and she tripped again. He easily caught her to him, angling her so her weight shifted over to her right leg. She winced, as her muscles strained in protest to the foreign movements. As though in concert with her body, Daniel drew her close and anchored her to him while he twirled her in slow circles. He touched his lips to her temple and she slid her eyes closed in response. “You deserved a waltz to an orchestra’s hum.”

  That hoarse declaration squeezed at her heart. This is all I ever needed. A wave of regret clenched at her with a vicious tenacity—a useless wish that he’d been anything but a rake. With his gaze, he roved a path over her face. Slowly, he brought them to a slow stop beside the dais.

  Daphne’s chest heaved with the force of emotion. Just over a week ago, he’d called her spiritless, but ultimately, he’d opened her eyes to the truth. In the eighteen years since she’d fallen, she had not truly been alive. She’d existed, but not truly lived. The one time she’d dipped her toes in the water of living, it had ended in folly. A folly that had made her retreat within herself. I don’t want to run anymore. She wetted her lips and his gaze went to her mouth. “Daniel,” she whispered.

  He briefly closed his eyes and his mouth moved, as though in prayer. “You should go, Daphne,” those words emerged garbled.

  “Why?” She brushed her palm over the tense muscles of his cheek.

  Daniel sucked in a slow, jagged breath. “Because I want to kiss you. I want to do a whole lot more with you and I’m trying to be honorable.” His chest rose and fell quickly, and
tenderness unfurled within her at his struggle.

  A war raged within his brown eyes. Warmth filled her chest. The world saw only a rake and, yet, for all his efforts to prove the contrary, there was a gentleman alive within him. “I want you to kiss me.” She wanted his embrace once more and would not feel guilt or shame. Nearly thirty, a woman grown, she’d know his kiss, if he let her.

  “You don’t understand,” he rasped, dropping his brow to hers. “There are wagers and questions, and everyone believes I’ll ruin you. And I want to debauch you, more than I’ve ever wanted another.”

  Her lips twitched at that rambling entreaty. “I expect you’ve far more charming words than ‘I wish to debauch you’,” she teased.

  “Precisely. Normally I would.” Daniel nodded jerkily, knocking her forehead. She winced. “Nor would I ever bump a woman in the head, until you, Daphne. What have you done—?”

  She leaned up and kissed him. His entire body turned to stone against her and she braced for him to pull away.

  With a groan he covered her mouth with his and there was nothing gentle about the meeting. He scooped her buttocks in his hand, anchoring her close, as their mouths met over and over again. He parted her lips and the taste of him flooded her senses. It tore a keening moan from deep inside where her greatest hungering for this heady passion lived.

  Never breaking contact, Daniel guided her down, lowering her upon the dais, and coming over her. He dragged his mouth from hers and her soft cry of protest rang from the rafters. But he only moved his lips lower, finding the soft flesh where her pulse beat hard.

  He suckled the flesh and she arched her head back, opening herself to his ministrations. He reached between them and shoved her bodice lower. The cool air slapped at her exposed skin and her nipples puckered.

  At his absolute silence, her eyes fluttered open. He remained motionless, his gaze on her small breasts. She curled her toes as reality intruded. How many women had he taken to his bed? Beauties with abundant curves and, certainly, flesh that wasn’t so freckled. Daphne fluttered her hands up to cover herself from his silent inspection, but Daniel captured her wrists, staying those movements.

  Their gazes locked and the thick haze of passion clouding his eyes robbed her of breath. “Do not,” he ordered. He touched his fingertip to the smattering of freckles between her breasts. “I wondered whether you’d still have these marks here.”

  “Alas, even without swimming n-naked in the lake under the summer sun, I’m still hopelessly freckled.” All hopes of levity were lost by the faint tremor to that breathless admission.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, touching his lips to the smattering of specks. Heat pooled at her center, filling her with a restless yearning.

  She wasn’t. But when he looked upon her with his molten hot gaze, she could believe those words spoken in his husky baritone.

  He drew his mouth away and she mourned the loss of that tender caress. But then a soft cry escaped her as he closed his lips around the tip of her right breast and suckled that flesh. Toying with it. Teasing it, until she existed as nothing more than a bundle of throbbing nerve endings. Daphne moaned, arching her hips, desperate for his touch on that sensitive area he’d stirred to life.

  Reaching between them, he tugged her skirts up. I should not do this… And yet, she was a woman, in control of her life. There would be no marriage or suitors, but there would be this. If he stopped, she’d be left with a dark, hollow emptiness, an unfulfilled ache. He palmed her mound and she gasped. “Daniel,” she pleaded, needing more.

  With strong fingers, he began to stroke her, toying with her nub, and she grew wet between her thighs. He claimed her mouth again for a searing meeting and he thrust his tongue inside to the rhythm he set with his fingers. His touch drawing her higher and higher, up an impossible climb. Her undulations grew frantic, taking on a pace driven by a frantic yearning for more. “Come for me, love,” he pleaded against her mouth, quickening his strokes. She hovered on a precipice, hanging suspended.

  He closed his lips around a nipple, drawing the bud deep into his mouth, while his fingers continue to work her and she shattered. A low tortured moan of agonized bliss spilled from her lips as she lifted her hips in a frenzied undulation, into his touch, coming on wave after wave, until she collapsed.

  Eyes closed, Daphne lay there, her body humming and sated. Daniel came down beside her and draped an arm around her waist. His breath stirred the strands of curls at her ear that had come loose from her exertions. He placed a kiss there with such tenderness that tears pricked at her lashes.

  “I am so s—”

  “Daniel Winterbourne, if you apologize to me,” she said breathlessly, “I’m going to bloody your nose.”

  A grin danced at the corners of his lips.

  “I have never felt anything like that.” How very inadequate those words were to capture the explosive bliss that had left her body weak, still. “Thank you,” she whispered. For the first time in her life, she’d known passion that had touched her soul. And how right it was that Daniel had been the man to awaken her body to the power of lovemaking.

  Wordless, he touched his lips to her temple and drew her back against him. “I love you,” she said quietly. Against her ear, she detected the frantic rhythm of his heart. “I did not tell you that because I expect anything, Daniel,” she said on a rush, when he remained frozen in silence. “I told you…” Why did I tell him? “Because I needed you to know how I feel,” she finished lamely.

  And she knew the precise moment she’d severed the connection with him.

  He edged away from her. “You don’t know me, Daphne. I’m not a good man.”

  She shifted in his arms, blocking his retreat. “I’d wager I know you better than you know your own self.”

  “I am a rake,” he said, panic in his eyes. “You’ve confused what we’ve done here as love.”

  “I may have little use of my leg, but I know my mind,” she shot back. Poor Daniel, how long he’d gone without any love or good in his life. She gentled her tone. “This is not about what’s happened here. This is about a man who doesn’t see me as nothing more than a cripple. A man who didn’t laugh at my dreams of finding employment and encouraged me to make those dreams real,” she finished as he swung his long legs over the edge of the dais, settling his feet on the floor.

  “Do you love the man who forgot you existed for thirteen years?” His words sucked the air from her lungs and she battled back the onslaught of hurt.

  When she and Daniel had been children, they’d come across a wild cat that had caught his paw in a hunter’s snare. The creature had snapped and hissed, lashing out in his pain. How very much he was like that wounded creature. She slowly eased over to where he sat on the edge of the dais. “You let your father in here,” she touched her fingertips to his forehead. “And it has scarred you here, Daniel.” She lowered her palm to his chest, where his heart pounded wildly. “You have to trust that you deserve love and are capable of giving it.” Until he did, he would never be free of his past.

  His throat worked and there was a softening of his tense features. And then as quickly as it had come, the cool mask was back in place. Daniel disentangled her hand from his person. “Because there can never be more with me,” he said succinctly. “I am incapable of giving you more.”

  And with that cold reminder, he stalked out of the room, leaving her alone—once more.

  Chapter 15

  She loved him.

  Daphne’s whispered words set off a firestorm of panic and terror that clutched at his mind, threatening his sanity.

  People did not love him. Which was good. Which was how he wanted life. He’d been responsible for the suffering of all those who’d loved him: his mother, his brother. Now, Daphne had flipped his world upside down with talk of that very sentiment he’d avoided the whole of his life. His heart knocked painfully against his ribcage.

  Still, with her hurt expression as he’d swiftly retreated last evenin
g still fresh, he proved the ultimate selfish bastard—for he’d not undo that moment in her arms, last night, even if he could.

  Never again would he look upon the dais in his ballroom without seeing in his mind the image of her spread upon it, arching into his hand and crying out her release. It did, however, make it far more bearable suffering through the tedium that was hosting his first—he shuddered—polite event.

  From the front of the finally dwindling receiving line, Daniel stared over the heads of dance partners performing the steps of a godforsaken quadrille to that slight rise to where the orchestra played. Given all the whispers and wagers flying about Town, if he were an honorable gentleman, he’d at least feel some compunction at having taken her in his arms. But he was no gentleman, nor had he ever proclaimed to be, wished to be, or ever miraculously transformed into.

  At his side, his sister shifted on her feet. “I certainly see why you are a rake,” she groused under her breath, effectively dousing all wicked musings of Daphne Smith. “I’d far prefer attending wicked clubs and placing scandalous wagers to this infernal line.”

  Daniel frowned. “What do you know of wicked clubs and scandalous wagers?”

  His sister flashed him a grin that was not at all innocent and entirely too mischievous and—he flared his eyes—by God, it was his smile, which given his own life, hinted at wickedness. “I asked—?” The next guests, Lord and Lady Buckingham, came forward and the question went unfinished as necessary introductions were made. “I asked what you know of wicked clubs and scandalous wagers,” he repeated, as soon as the older couple left and they were alone.

  Alice let out a beleaguered sigh. “Really, Daniel. You needn’t sound disapproving like some worried papa.” A worried papa? “Or protective brother.”

  He tugged at his suddenly too-tight cravat. Damn it all. “I am most certainly not a concerned papa.”