The Duke's Defiant Bride (Brides of Mayfair Book 4)

by Michelle McMaster

  “I do, indeed,” he replied. “I have a duty to protect the legacy of this dukedom, so I will require a proper marriage and legal heirs. What do you think of that?”

  “You must do your duty, of course.”

  His duty, yes… But he didn’t want to talk anymore. His body was pounding with lust for Juliet as he approached her and drew her into his arms.

  Carver covered her mouth with his and noticed a hint of heated anger in her kiss, as well as the fiery passion he’d been unable to forget. He wondered if mentioning his future bride bothered her more than she was willing to admit. Was she jealous?

  “We’ve already practiced our fighting skills today,” he said in a low, husky voice, tracing the curve of her jawline. “I hope you’re not still overtired.”

  Her eyes flashed in daring defiance. “Not at all, Your Grace. I am more than ready for a second round of activity.”

  He smiled as he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  Chapter 24

  Though this was not the first time for she and Carver, Juliet felt as anxious as a new bride. Something had changed between them. She was still fully clothed, but felt naked before him—as if he could see through her armor. Lady Blade was powerless to protect her now.

  Carver Adams—famous war hero and handsome Duke of Hawksmoor—was the one soldier she could never defeat. Somehow, over the course of their association, he had fashioned a key to her heart. And for a woman who had spent years denying to herself that she even possessed a heart, that was an achievement of the highest order.

  Juliet had no more tricks up her sleeve, no more defensive moves or evasive action with which to outwit her enemy. For her former enemy had somehow become her partner in both work and love.

  She wanted to be nowhere else but here, in Carver’s arms, ready to bare herself to him, body, heart and soul. And though he had just shared his intention to find a suitable duchess to share his life at Hawksmoor House, Juliet refused to think of how much the idea hurt her. Having spent most of the war convincing herself that marriage was simply another prison to which she would never be committed, now she felt quite differently.

  Especially about Carver.

  As she looked up into his smoldering green eyes, Juliet realized how much she loved this man. In truth, she cared so deeply, she wished for nothing more than for him find the perfect bride, a woman who could make him truly happy and gave him many children.

  His expression changed slightly, and he brushed away a lock of hair from her face. “What are you thinking about? I’ve never seen you look so…” He paused. “Lost.”

  She ran her hands over the hard muscles of his arms and shoulders. “I was lost once. I was alone and closed off from the world. But not anymore, Carver. My heart is open. I am glad to have met you. Now, no matter where I go, I will never again be truly alone.”

  “Nor shall I,” he replied.

  Slowly, he began to unbutton her linen shirt, all the while, devouring her with his hungry eyes. Juliet relished this—lying on a soft, feathery bed while her lover undressed her. For once, she was happy to let Carver take control, for she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not anymore. Least of all, to herself.

  At last she felt free of the war and her anger toward those she perceived to be her enemies—and of Lady Blade as well.

  Today she was just Juliet.

  A woman who loved Carver Adams.

  He slid the open shirt off her shoulders, pulled it free from her breeches and tossed it to the floor. Next, he removed her fitted chemise.

  Of course, he couldn’t help but reach out to touch her naked breasts, and Juliet sucked in a breath at the exquisite sensation. He curled a hand around her waist and dipped his head to feast upon them, kissing, teasing, tormenting her at will.

  She weaved her fingers through his thick blond hair and fought to maintain control of her senses. Her body felt shaky and her breasts felt heavy and ached with desire. She had a momentary thought, wondering what it would feel like to feed Carver’s child while he watched. The image gave her an intense feminine thrill.

  Soon, she was naked. Carver quickly dispensed with his own clothes and lowered his body to hers where they lay with each other, skin to skin.

  It was hot and sticky. Positively amazing.

  For a while, they simply lay there, gazing at each other, touching each other, taking their time as they never had before.

  During the war, there was a sense of urgency and danger surrounding them at all times and it found its way into their lovemaking. Their reunion here in London had carried old hurts and misunderstandings, and coupled with their strong desire for each other, had made for a quick but heated encounter.

  This was entirely different.

  Juliet felt as if she were living in a dream.

  Carver was everything a man should be. He always had been. He was handsome, strong, brave, intelligent and passionate. Every caress of his hand, every titillating kiss of his mouth, caused Juliet to melt with rapture. With Carver, she was experiencing a joy and sense of completeness she had never thought possible.

  If only she could live like this every day and every night.

  Her hands were hungry for him as well, and Juliet feathered them over the hard, nude muscles of his thighs, his stomach, his arms and back. In truth, he was like a Greek statue come to life, his body perfectly sculpted, as if by a talented artist. But where an alabaster statue would be cold to the touch, Carver’s skin was warm with desire.

  His sex was thick and throbbing between his legs, and Juliet couldn’t stop herself from wrapping her fingers around his powerful shaft. He groaned as she stroked and teased him, then dipped her head down to pleasure him with her mouth.

  She positioned herself on the bed between his legs, and clasped the base of his sex as she teased him with her lips and tongue. Carver reached down and buried his hands in her flowing hair, exhaling several breaths as he pressed his head back into the pillow. “Oh, Juliet,” he rasped.

  She delighted in the sensual power she had over him, bringing him to the point of release, and then wickedly holding him back.

  Juliet’s own sex throbbed with desire, while every inch of her skin was on fire. Gazing down at Carver’s strikingly handsome face, she felt a desperate need to kiss him. She crawled over him like a cat, lowering her mouth to cover his. Curling a hand around the back of his neck, she kissed him passionately, her tongue teasing and mating with his.

  God, how she loved this. Loved him.

  Those words would have frightened her before, but now, they only brought her unparalleled joy.

  Carver’s eyes burned with desire as he reached out to grip her hips. He lifted her easily, helping her onto his firm and solid manhood.

  Juliet bit her lips at the sweet, torturous pleasure that infused her veins. He was so big, she felt so full of him, sheathed by her tender, slick sex. With strong arms, he began to move her body up and down. She matched Carver’s smooth rhythm as their desire climbed to new heights.

  Their eyes met in a haze of building arousal. Carver bucked his hips beneath her as she rode in rhythm atop his deliciously muscular body.

  Juliet felt her feminine desire intensifying to a white-hot heat, her body crying out for release, and her soul crying out for the opposite. She had never felt so free, and yet, so much a willing prisoner as she did at this moment with Carver.

  Juliet dug her fingers into his shoulder as she pumped her hips against his. The wave was about to crest.

  Suddenly, it crashed over her with all the force of a summer storm. She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the wave to wash away her past and all the sins she had committed in the war. Juliet gasped at the pleasure that spread through her.

  Carver, too, rode the flood of pleasure, holding her steady as his shaft plunged deep within her. His eyes burned with animalistic desire, then finally closed as he groaned in a final release.

  Juliet fought to get her bearings, but realized her arms, her
entire body, was wobbly and weak.

  Carver gazed up at her with half-lidded eyes, reaching out to help disengage their slick, spent bodies. He pulled her into his arms and cradled her beside him on the bed, then pulled the coverlet over them.

  Juliet burrowed into his strong, protective arms and felt her strength drain away.

  He stroked the back of her hair, kissing it once. “Go to sleep, now. You’re safe here.”

  As Juliet drowsily blinked her eyes, she decided those were the most wonderful words she’d ever heard in her life, and she knew they were true. She was indeed safe with this man, and she always would be. And though she knew it was only a fantasy, Juliet wanted nothing more than to remain here forever in the handsome duke’s arms.

  * * *

  Carver spent the night in Juliet’s bedchamber, and when their bodies grew hungry for each other once more, they made love again. Then Juliet drifted off into another dreamy slumber.

  When morning came, she found herself alone in the massive bed. Carver must have returned to his own chamber before the servants were up and about. She knew it was the wise thing to do, but she wished he had stayed.

  Then she discovered he had left a note, explaining that he had gone out on an important errand and would return later. After that, they would go to Hyde Park to ride at the Fashionable Hour and attempt to glean more information from Lord Bosworth and his associates.

  Juliet seized the opportunity to rise leisurely and enjoy a restful breakfast. Afterward, she sat on the red plush sofa in the library, leafing through one of the many books, trying to keep her mind occupied. But memories of Carver and their passionate lovemaking were most distracting. And something else niggled at her.

  This was not the first time she and Carver had engaged in sexual congress. They had been together during the war and again when they first met at the start of this mission. But Juliet had never felt as she did this morning, and her feminine intuition told her why.

  Her stomach felt odd…slightly crampy, which was strange. Her monthly was weeks away.

  Almost without realizing it, Juliet’s hand slid down to rest protectively on her belly. Was that the reason she felt so different this morning? Had she conceived Carver’s child last night? If so, would she know it? Would she be able to feel it?

  In all her life, Juliet had never been given to flights of fancy. Indeed, it was quite the opposite. Yet at this moment, she couldn’t ignore what her body and her intuition was telling her.

  Growing up, she’d heard the old wives’ tales. Some women were prone to early symptoms—even the morning after—and knew right away that they were with child.

  Could she be one of those women?

  A thrill in her heart told her that deep down, she wanted to be.

  She smiled as she pondered the possibility.

  Carver’s child. A baby boy or girl, equally parts of her and him. Her mind leapt forward as she wondered… Would the child have Carver’s green eyes? What of his blond hair, honor, strength and courage? Those were only a few of his attributes.

  Then another thought struck her, and it was one she didn’t wish to think about. Carver had mentioned his need of a wife and a proper marriage now that he was one of the most powerful dukes in England. Of course, the important part of that notion was “proper.”

  Juliet Reed—half English, half French, and a veteran spy—was the farthest thing from proper. When Lord Bosworth had mentioned the duke’s interest in her, in the role of Lady de Rochefort, she had rejected the idea for some of the very same reasons that truly existed.

  The Duke of Hawksmoor required a virginal, biddable bride, not a woman who had fought alongside the French army under the moniker of Lady Blade. And though it was common amongst men of the nobility to have illegitimate offspring and provide for them, Juliet felt saddened by knowing that she, Carver and their baby—if there was one—could never be a real family.

  The scandal would be far too great for the Hawksmoor name to bear.

  The truth was, Juliet had more than enough of her own money to provide for herself and their child. They could live a quiet life in her country house and want for nothing.

  Except him.

  Which meant her child would grow up yearning for his father, and Juliet would spend the rest of her days yearning for him, too.

  If that was her destiny, she would not fight against it. But what would Carver say if he knew? Of course, it was too early to make a judgement on the situation. Juliet would have to wait until she was certain of her condition before she spoke of it. After all, this might be nothing more than a fantasy.

  If it wasn’t, however, she could imagine the sparks flying between them when he was advised. Being the man that he was, Carver would insist on providing for her and the child. Being the woman that she was, Juliet would refuse any financial help. They would most likely come to another impasse.

  She shook her head to banish those thoughts and closed the book she’d been trying to read. Juliet didn’t have time to think about such things. She must prepare for their outing to Hyde Park. Their intention was to meet up with several members of the ton, including Lord and Lady Bosworth, and the Earl and Countess of Hargrove.

  Juliet would need to choose her attire accordingly, for she would once again be playing the role of Baroness de Rochefort. The color of her costume would act as an advertisement to any amongst the ton who might be sympathetic to Napoleon. Today she would wear her lilac day dress and matching pelisse with elaborate military braid trim in black. She would also wear amethyst and diamond jewellery to complete the ensemble.

  If, as Juliet hoped, Lady Bosworth and Lady Hargrove had shared details of yesterday’s conversation with their husbands, she and Carver were likely to learn of it today. Once Juliet and Carver insinuated themselves into the group of sympathizers, it would only be a matter of time before they had the information they required to warrant arrests.

  Her hand dropped to her belly again, and a wave of emotion stole over her. If she was carrying Carver’s child, it would change everything. Somehow, the thought of another war seemed even more heinous if her precious baby had to live through it.

  Her child, and all the children of the world, deserved to live in a place of safety and peace.

  For some reason, she hadn’t really understood that until now. In the Peninsula, she’d allowed her fighting skills to be used by a selfish tyrant for nothing but his own gain. Now she would use her talents for good—to stop a war before it even began.

  She would do it alongside the man she loved. The one man she could never have.

  Chapter 25

  “I daresay all of London is here,” Juliet said, looking out at the press of fancy carriages, curricles, and exceptional horseflesh that made its way about Hyde Park.

  “I daresay you are right,” Carver answered, effortlessly steering the horse-drawn black phaeton through the slow-moving traffic.

  It was the Fashionable Hour, and anyone who was anyone was here to rub shoulders with the ton, or if you were a member of the ton, to display your wealth and power to all those who cared to see it.

  Here, the Mad Mamas might select a suitable husband for one of their daughters, or their husbands would court investors for business dealings to increase their wealth tenfold. Gossip and innuendo would blossom and spread like the seeds of an invasive weed on the breeze, impossible to control after it took root.

  Ladies of the ton enjoyed challenging each other to duels, not with standard weapons of war, but with the latest eye-catching fashions, colorful plumed bonnets, and priceless jewellery. As long as proprieties were observed, a gallant, good-looking male escort was the ultimate accessory, even for a married woman.

  For their part, the Duke of Hawksmoor and his dear cousin, Baroness de Rochefort, were garnering much attention of their own, and Carver couldn’t attribute it to his daring new phaeton with the eye-catching yellow spoked wheels. It was Juliet who attracted the most interest.

  Of course, Carver knew it
was more than just her physical beauty that fascinated them. Juliet’s confidence surrounded her like a heady perfume, and as such, turned many heads.

  “Do you see the Bosworths?” he asked, searching for them.

  Juliet raised her chin in their direction. “Over there. They have just paused in their vehicle.”

  He steered the phaeton toward several vehicles which had stopped to allow the drivers and passengers to exchange pleasantries. A few fashionable young bucks sat astride their impressive-looking mounts. Lord and Lady Bosworth sat atop their curricle, drawn by a perfectly matched pair of white horses. Next to them were the Earl and Countess of Hargrove atop a landaulette with glossy, red wheels.

  “Your Grace,” Lord Bosworth said, giving a nod. “And Lady de Rochefort. How nice to see you both.”

  “It’s a pleasure to see you as well,” Carver replied, nodding also toward Lord and Lady Hargrove.

  Hargrove turned to Juliet. “Baroness de Rochefort, my dear wife tells me how much she enjoyed her afternoon with you and Lady Bosworth. She was thankful for your recommendation regarding the new fabric for her frocks. I particularly liked the shade you suggested. I must agree that violet is sure to become very popular this year. In fact, I have never met a lady who did not look good in it, as you, yourself are proof of that.”

  Juliet offered him a charming smile. “I was happy to help.”

  “My dear cousin is known for her impeccable taste in fashion,” Carver added, arching a brow. He played up his role of Duke of Hawksmoor, a tool he used to impress the nobles of lesser rank.

  “The duke is being too kind,” Juliet replied. “However, I do admit that it was a wonderfully splendid afternoon. The conversation was most stimulating.”

  There was an awkward pause amongst the group.

  The Bosworths and Hargroves exchanged a glance, as if weighing whether to say something in response.