Dangerous Dukes 01 - Zachary Black - Duke of Debauchery

by Carole Mortimer

  Zachary gave a guarded shrug. ‘As you say, they progress. At least, Napoleon does,’ he added grimly.

  She gave a soft gasp. ‘And do you believe he will be successful in his endeavour?’

  Zachary did not bother in so much as attempting to dismiss Georgianna’s concerns. She was far too intelligent to be fobbed off. Besides which, the months she had spent in France had given her an insight into the turmoil which had once again beset that country. ‘I do not believe I am breaking any confidences by revealing that his army grows bigger by the day and that he will soon enter Paris itself.’

  ‘And the king?’

  ‘I believe Louis is preparing to flee.’

  Georgianna’s cheeks grew pale. ‘Then there will most certainly be another war.’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  She flicked him a glance beneath long silky dark lashes. ‘You will be a part of that war?’

  ‘Most certainly.’ Zachary gave her a mocking grin. ‘Just think, Georgianna, I might even manage to get myself killed, and in doing so relieve you of the burden of suffering both my guardianship as well as my company.’

  Georgianna frowned across at him darkly. ‘You are being unfair by inferring that I have ever wished you dead, Hawksmere.’

  ‘Just consigned to Hades.’

  ‘Well, yes, there is that.’ A beguiling dimple appeared in her cheek as she smiled genuinely for what seemed to be the first time this evening. ‘A little singeing by those hellish fires, at the very least, might succeed in stripping you of some of your irritating arrogance.’

  Zachary found himself chuckling. ‘I do believe I have missed both you and your insults, Georgianna.’

  She raised dark brows. ‘Somehow I doubt that very much!’

  Then she would be wrong, Zachary acknowledged. Georgianna was a woman with whom he now spoke almost as freely, and on similar subjects, as he did his closest male friends. Something he had not believed possible with any woman in society.

  It had long been his experience that the women of society preferred not to know of the more unpleasant facts of life, their main topics of conversation seeming to be fashions, gossip, and the managing of their household and family. Georgianna’s experiences this past year had taken her far beyond being interested in such trivialities.

  Reminding Zachary only too forcibly that there was something he needed, rather than wished, to discuss with her in private.

  ‘You will not allow Jeffrey to fight?’ Georgianna looked at him anxiously now.

  Zachary frowned. ‘He is a man grown, Georgianna.’

  ‘And you are his guardian.’ Her eyes glittered a deep, emotional violet.

  ‘And, no doubt, you will never forgive me if something should happen to him.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

  ‘And I doubt my forgiveness is of the least interest, or importance, to you.’

  ‘You might be surprised,’ Zachary murmured softly before sighing as Georgianna continued to look at him expectantly. ‘I make no promises, but I will see what can be done to prevent Jeffrey from rushing headlong into the coming war,’ he added grimly.

  She sighed. ‘He admires you tremendously, you know.’

  ‘Unlike his sister,’ Zachary drawled drily.

  She gave him a brief glance. ‘It is not a question of not admiring you, Hawksmere. Indeed, I admire your endeavours on behalf of the Crown enormously.’

  ‘That is something, I suppose,’ he drawled.

  ‘The rest of your personality leaves a lot to be desired, of course,’ she added caustically, ‘but one cannot have everything.’

  ‘As usual, the sword thrust in the velvet glove.’

  Georgianna eyed him mockingly. ‘At least I am consistent.’

  ‘Oh, you are most certainly that, Georgianna,’ Zachary allowed before sobering. ‘Is it convenient for you to come here tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Why?’ She eyed him warily now.

  He grimaced. ‘I would prefer to discuss that with you tomorrow.’

  And Georgianna would prefer to know now what that discussion was to be about.

  Unfortunately, Jeffrey chose that moment to return to the dining room, so putting an end to their own conversation as they all began to talk instead of the invitations they had accepted for the coming season.

  *

  ‘Thank you, Hinds.’ Georgianna smiled politely at the butler as he showed her into the blue salon of Hawksmere House the following afternoon.

  After she had spent the night, and all of this morning, fretting and worrying as to what it was Hawksmere could possibly wish to discuss with her today in private.

  Hawksmere himself had his back turned towards her as he stood in front of one of the large bay windows, looking out of into the garden beyond. He turned the moment the door closed as evidence of his butler’s departure.

  ‘I did not think, when I asked you to come here.’ He frowned darkly. ‘You do at least have a maid with you, I hope?’

  Georgianna nodded. ‘She is waiting out in the hallway.’

  ‘Would you care for refreshment?’ the duke offered politely. ‘Tea, perhaps?’

  She eyed him scathingly. ‘The only time I have been in this house, apart from that surreal dinner with Jeffrey yesterday evening, was as your prisoner, so, no, I do not require the nicety of tea, thank you, Hawksmere.’

  ‘The time for social politeness between the two of us really is over then, hmm?’ he guessed drily.

  ‘I am not sure it ever began.’

  Once again Zachary found himself chuckling at Georgianna’s honesty. ‘Let us at least sit down,’ he invited ruefully.

  ‘You consider I might feel a need to do so, once you have spoken with me?’ she murmured concernedly as she moved to perch demurely on the edge of one of the armchairs.

  Zachary had debated with himself long and hard as to what he should tell Georgianna about Rousseau. And still he had no real answer, only knew that she needed to know that the other man no longer posed a threat, to her liberty or her life.

  She looked so lovely today, dressed in a gown of pale silver, the darkness of her curls peeping out from beneath the matching bonnet, her face youthfully flushed by the freshness of the breeze outside, that Zachary baulked at even introducing the subject of her previous lover.

  Her previous lover?

  Well, yes, because the intimacies the two of them had shared two weeks ago meant that Zachary had certainly been Georgianna’s most recent lover.

  And now that he was alone with her once again, he found that the last thing he wished to do was talk of Rousseau.

  ‘Have you thought of me at all this past two weeks, Georgianna?’ he found himself prompting huskily.

  She blinked at the unexpectedness of his question. ‘Politely or impolitely?’

  ‘Oh, impolitely, I am sure,’ he allowed with another laugh.

  ‘Then, yes, I do believe I have thought about you. Often,’ she added pointedly.

  Zachary smiled ruefully. ‘And were all these impolite thoughts unpleasant ones?’

  Georgianna was uncertain where Zachary was going with this line of questioning. They were two people who had once been betrothed to each other and now found themselves thrust into a situation not of their choosing. She very much doubted that Zachary had wished to become her guardian, any more than she now wished him to be. And that was without the awkwardness of the intimacies which had taken place between the two of them two weeks ago. That certainly made for a very strained relationship between the two of them.

  To a degree that Georgianna had found herself wondering many times since how such a thing could ever have happened between two people who could not even claim a liking for each other?

  And then she remembered the touch of Zachary’s hands upon her, his lips, his tongue, and she knew exactly how such a thing had occurred between them. They were a man and a woman, who had been forced into a situation of close proximity. Factor in Zachary’s feelings of anger towards her for past wr
ongs, then making love to her, ensuring that she enjoyed having him make love to her, and those intimacies had become inevitable.

  Her own response to them she found harder to explain.

  ‘Unpleasant enough,’ she answered him sharply as she stood up restlessly. ‘Now…?’

  ‘I thought of you, too, whilst I was away, Georgianna.’

  She stilled, once again eyeing him warily. ‘Oh, yes?’

  Zachary nodded, his expression intense. ‘They were not unpleasant thoughts at all.’

  Georgianna’s heart began to beat loudly in her chest, her cheeks suddenly warm. ‘You surprise me.’

  ‘Do I?’ He crossed the room silently until he stood only inches away, looking down at her. ‘Does it really surprise you that I remember our time together here so vividly and so pleasantly, Georgianna?’ he repeated huskily.

  It did, yes. Hawksmere had not earned his reputation, as one of the five Dangerous Dukes, solely on his war record. No, his exploits in the bedchamber were also lauded by the ladies of England and much envied by the gentlemen. Georgianna did not imagine that someone as inexperienced as herself would have been in the least memorable amongst the dozens of beauties who were reputed to have shared a bed with Hawksmere.

  As she had done. However briefly.

  Her legs trembled slightly, hands clasped tightly together, as she looked up at him. ‘It would surprise me very much,’ she answered stiltedly.

  ‘And yet?’

  ‘I really would rather not talk about that particular subject, Hawksmere.’ She had meant the words to come out as a set-down, but instead they sounded wistful and yearning.

  Yearning?

  Could it be that she secretly wanted there to be a repeat of the events, the intimacies, they had shared that morning in the bedchamber above them?

  That would be madness on her part.

  Georgianna’s thoughts were broken off abruptly, indeed, her mind went a complete blank, as Zachary took her in his arms and claimed her lips firmly with his own.

  The passion and desire were instantaneous, as Zachary’s arms tightened about her even as his mouth devoured hers hungrily. It was all that Georgianna could do to remain on her feet, by clutching tightly to the tops of his muscled arms as she returned the heat of those kisses.

  Zachary broke the kiss to graze his lips against the softness of Georgianna’s cheek. ‘I have thought this past two weeks—’ he kissed her earlobe ‘—of doing this again.’ He tasted the delicate column of her neck. ‘Constantly.’ His tongue sought out the hollows at the base of her throat, the creamy softness of the tops of her breasts through the silver lace. ‘And none of those thoughts matched up to this reality,’ he acknowledged gruffly, his body throbbing and achingly engorged. ‘God, how I want you, Georgianna!’

  She gasped. ‘Zachary, we cannot. We must not.’

  ‘I must,’ he rasped fiercely as he lifted her up in his arms and carried her over to the chaise. He lay her down on its softness and sat down beside her, his gaze holding hers as he untied her bonnet before removing it completely.

  ‘You have the most beautiful hair, Georgianna, so soft and silky.’ He removed the pins as he spoke, before gazing down at her appreciatively as he loosened those curls about her shoulders.

  ‘Zachary,’

  ‘And your skin is like the finest ivory.’ His gaze followed the path of his hand as it trailed down the column of her throat to the swell of her breasts. ‘So pale and so soft to the touch.’ He pushed the lace aside to reveal the scar between her breasts. A scar Zachary did not find any more repellent than she appeared to find the one upon his own throat. No, he considered this scar to be Georgianna’s own, very private, war wound.

  A sign, a remembrance, of the battle she had fought, and won, and which now only he and she had knowledge of.

  ‘You can have no idea how much I have thought of making love to you again, Georgianna,’ he groaned achingly.

  Georgianna thought, from the intensity of his kisses and the fire now gleaming, burning, in the silver depths of his eyes as he slowly lowered his head, that she might hazard a guess.

  And the thought that this man, that Zachary, wanted her so deeply he had thought of her even whilst he was away in the turmoil of France, filled her with an elation, a happiness Georgianna had not even known she secretly longed for.

  She gasped as she felt the warmth of his lips against the scar on her chest. ‘Zachary, don’t.’

  ‘Let me, Georgianna.’ He breathed hotly against her even as his lips continued to kiss every inch of that scarred flesh.

  ‘It is unsightly.’ It took every effort of will Georgianna possessed to stop herself from pulling that lace back over the disfiguring scar on her chest, her jaw tight, her hands clenched at her sides.

  ‘No more so than my own scar. Does that repulse you?’

  ‘How could it, when it is evidence of your bravery?’ she assured unhesitatingly.

  He looked up at her darkly. ‘As your own scar is a part of the brave and beautiful woman that you are. One who has suffered and yet survived.’

  ‘I barely survived, Zachary,’ she reminded weakly.

  ‘And you are all the braver and stronger for it.’

  Was she braver and stronger? Stronger, certainly, but she did not think herself braver. She still suffered nightmares in her bed at night. Dreamt constantly of that night in the woods. The pain, both emotional and physical, that she had suffered. The terror of waking up blind and in so much pain. The months afterwards when she had continued to fear for her life.

  Of still suffering from that same fear.

  Georgianna’s limbs turned to water, all other thoughts fleeing her mind, her hands moving up to entwine her fingers in the darkness of Zachary’s hair as he unfastened the buttons at the front of her gown and she felt the warmth of his lips against the bare swell of her breast.

  She cried out achingly as his lips parted and he took the aroused and aching tip of that breast into the heat of his mouth, before suckling, gently at first, and then more deeply, hungrily. She arched up into him, instinctively seeking, wanting more, receiving more as Zachary’s hand cupped beneath her other breast and he began to roll and squeeze the second nipple to the same arousing rhythm.

  The sensations were overwhelming. An all-consuming heat and a glorious pleasure that radiated out from her breasts and coursed through the rest of her body, her nipples both hard and aching, the folds between her thighs swelling and moistening, the muscles deep inside her contracting and squeezing hungrily.

  And it was a selfish need.

  ‘Zachary?’ She breathed weakly as she felt his hand trailing along her calf, pushing up her gown to above her knees and then higher still, until she felt the warm brush of air against those heated and swollen folds between her thighs.

  ‘Allow me to pleasure you again, Georgianna,’ he groaned, his breath a hot caress against the dampness of her nipple. ‘Grant me that, at least.’

  ‘But what of your own pleasure?’ She knew very little about men, but she knew enough to know that Zachary’s erection was both hard and demanding as it pressed, pulsed, against her hip.

  ‘I am happy in the knowledge that I please you, Georgianna.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I am not pleasing you?’ Zachary pulled back slightly, his expression one of concern. ‘Did I hurt you? Was I too rough with you just now?’

  Delicate colour warmed her cheeks. ‘I did not say that.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Zachary…’ Her gaze could no longer meet his, aware as she was of the fact that the top of her gown still gaped open, revealing the fullness of her breasts. The bare fullness of her breasts. ‘Pleasure is surely to be given as well as received?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Georgianna moistened stiff lips. ‘Then of course I should like to give you pleasure, too. If you will teach me, show me, what pleases you,’ she added uncomfortably, knowing that she was far less experienced, make that lacking in experience
at all, than all those other women Zachary was reputed to have made love with.

  Zachary looked down at her searchingly. It had been his experience in the past that there was no of course about it, when it came to a man’s pleasure during lovemaking. Whores were one thing and would do what they were asked for with the giving of coin. Wives, he had heard, preferred the act to be without embellishment and over with as quickly as was possible for the begetting of an heir. Other women in society, those married women who took a lover once the heir and spare had been provided, usually considered it enough that they were giving carte blanche with their body and, as such, had no interest in what she might do to please the man in her bed.

  Obviously Georgianna was different from all those other women, being neither whore, nor wife, nor a married woman in society looking for a lover. As he could only assume she also meant she wanted him to show her, to teach her, what best pleased him in particular, rather than…

  No, he refused to think of Georgianna’s relationship with Rousseau now. He would not allow anything or anyone else to intrude upon their stolen time together. ‘Are you sure you wish to pleasure me, Georgianna?’ he prompted huskily.

  She flickered a glance up at him before looking down again.

  ‘It seems only fair I should do so, after—after you gave to me so unselfishly when—when we were last together.’ The colour flooded her cheeks once again.

  ‘That did not answer my question.’

  Because Georgianna had no idea how to answer his question! She knew nothing of lovemaking, be it man or woman. She only knew, from these times with Zachary, that she could not be a selfish lover, that she wished to please Zachary as he had pleased her. As her own achingly aroused body said she now must.

  ‘What would you be willing to do to give me pleasure, Georgianna?’ he prompted huskily at her silence.

  ‘Whatever you wished me to do.’

  ‘Anything?’

  She swallowed at the intensity of his silver gaze fixed unblinkingly on her blushing face. ‘I believe so, yes.’

  He smiled ruefully. ‘Words are easily spoken, Georgianna.’

  ‘Then I shall answer in deeds rather than words.’ She sat up before sliding down to the base of the chaise to swing her feet on to the floor, before standing up and turning to face Zachary.