Forbidden to Love the Duke

by Jillian Hunter

  “I broke the china,” she said. “And the silver tray got dented when I hit this person in the chops with it. What would have happened to us if you hadn’t been here, Oliver? It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  He tasted bile in his throat. “I should never have cleared the garden.”

  Rosemary put her arms around Lilac’s shoulders and dragged her toward the house. “I’ll trust you to take care of this,” she said to Oliver. “If the magistrate needs my word as a witness, I shall be happy to give it in your defense, Sir Oliver.”

  “Thank you,” he said stiffly.

  She stared down at the apron. “Of course.”

  Chapter 27

  James led her through the hall and up a side staircase that Ivy hadn’t known existed. A row of footmen bowed to her and James as they passed, and it was dreadful of her, but she wanted to break into giggles. She and the other servants had been playing cards for pennies not three days ago. And now she had to act as if she were their better.

  “I’m embarrassed,” she whispered, balking at the landing built beneath a domed skylight. The clouds drifted by, a discontented shade of blue.

  “Whatever for?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “I was one of them and now I’m one of you.”

  He laughed. “In that case, there’ll be more embarrassment in the months to come.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, looking down from the skylight with a prim face. “I intend to set a good example.”

  “It’s too late for that,” he said, and pulled on her hand.

  She caught the mahogany handrail, resisting. “I dislike the tone of that. I came to this house with the best intentions.”

  “You couldn’t follow any of the rules.”

  “Not that again.”

  He pulled her off the railing and into his arms. “Ivy, you and your sisters are the most original young ladies I’ve ever known. You can’t fault me for what happened during the five years I wasn’t in England to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

  She laughed. “And that’s why you are leading me to the Duchess Suite, is it? To redeem me from all those years of disgrace and originality?”

  He shrugged, a typical man with only conquest on his mind. “I did mention that your sitting room adjoins your own personal library?”

  Ivy felt herself falling under the spell of his guileless smile. Typical female, she thought wistfully, encouraging the conquest with her willingness to be led on. “There is a library downstairs, James,” she said.

  “Not one quite as intimate as this.” He smiled into her eyes.

  “That’s what I suspected.” She let him tug her up another three steps. “What do you mean by suggesting we were on a crooked path? I take exception to that.”

  “Forgive me. I should have known better than to insult the females of Fenwick.”

  He glanced at her again over his shoulder. To judge by his vitality today, Ivy would almost have believed him to be immortal. She had realized last night that he was not. “What did I or my sisters do to justify that comment?”

  His deep laugh pleased her senses. “For one thing Rue threatened me behind the door with a sword like Joan of Arc. For another, Rosemary greeted me with a dueling pistol in hand. In the midst of this hostile welcome Lilac acted as if I had arrived for tea. And, you, my wicked heart, kissed an absolute stranger at a masquerade party. I suppose it is a blessing, considering convents are no longer an option, that the walls of Fenwick sheltered the four of you from the world for as long as they have.”

  “Ah,” she said softly, “then you must see why the fault lies at your door.”

  “I chased you to your door. That was a poor impulse on my part. I’ve admitted and apologized for it.”

  “You’re to blame for everything,” she said, drawing free from his grasp.

  He arched his brow. “You look sad. What have I done?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking how different everything might have turned out if you had proposed to me at the masquerade and sought my father out before he got into that fight.”

  “I’ve wished, too, it had happened that way.” He leaned with her against the railing. “Would you have waited that long for me? And been faithful?”

  “How could you doubt it? Of course my father might well have fought another duel. It was his nature.”

  He laid his hand over hers. “But I would have been able to help. I’ll take care of all of you now.”

  She felt a shadow fall upon her contentment. His chivalry enchanted—and humbled—her. She didn’t care if he teased her about what she and her sisters had done to survive. She’d do it all over again if she had to. She’d long ago accepted her past. She had nothing to hide anymore, except for Oliver’s visit last night, which she hadn’t had a moment to explain to James. Should she tell him now? Should she ruin his high spirits? Would a few hours more really matter?

  Moments later, when they left the stairs and he opened the doors onto the octagonal sitting room that was to be her retreat, she was so overwhelmed that Oliver was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Sunshine broke through the clouds and into the suite from a bow window that looked out across the lake. The room smelled pleasantly of beeswax and lemon oil. Ivy could not imagine the work needed to maintain the French tapestries and central chandelier on which she could not detect a single cobweb. The walls had been painted a restful yellow hue between the floor-to-ceiling Ionic columns.

  “It’s charming, James. It’s warm and—well, this is so lovely I may never want to leave.”

  She walked through an arched doorway into an alcove that contained a small library. A coat of arms hung above the fireplace. A game table sat in front of two cozy chairs.

  “What do you think of the bedroom?” he asked, strolling into yet another room.

  She followed. There was a circular dressing room and a tall chest of drawers, one of which James paused to open and briefly explore, but her eye went straight to the Chippendale bed hung with yellow damask embroidered with pink cabbage roses and poppies. James removed his vest and tossed it onto the matching counterpane.

  He turned and took her into his arms. “Well?” He started to kiss and undress her at the same time.

  “James, at least draw the drapes.”

  “I want to see you in the light. No more chasing you into corners or hiding in your bedroom.”

  “I agree. Our engagement calls for good form.”

  “Yes—all I’m asking for is a good look at your form.”

  “Did you untie my dress already?”

  “Be patient, Ivy. I’m not as fast as I used to be. Bless you for not wearing buttons today.”

  “So that’s the secret to keeping you under control.”

  He pulled off his shirt. “Wide eyelets would be helpful. I’ll have to hire a personal dressmaker for you.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “I would think you’d be mortified to run upstairs the way we just did after what happened last night.”

  Her bodice and sleeves fell alongside his shirt. He smiled faintly. “I might have been, if I could remember everything that happened after you took advantage of me and left my room. Surely I can’t be held accountable for behavior I don’t recall committing.”

  “I took advantage of you?”

  “It’s all right, darling. You forgive me. I have forgiven you. I know you were only trying to distract me.”

  “You do have a distorted memory.”

  “Not of you. All I remember is a goddess with a beautiful face and a body to match.”

  She frowned as her shift and undergarments met his trousers on the floor. “James, where is your jacket? And your cravat?”

  “I think I left them outside the door.” He knelt to take off her garters and stockings.

  �
�You didn’t,” she said with a gasp.

  He laid his cheek against her thigh, smoothing his hand up the curve of her backside. “I’ve wanted to do this forever.” He leaned back, his hands skimming her hips. “Would you take down your hair?”

  “Really, James. I need an hour to pin it back properly. People will know.”

  “Take it loose and hold it up with your hands. Yes. That’s nice. Turn around slowly.”

  “It’s not even noon,” she said, a flush working up her neck.

  “I know how to tell time, Ivy.” His dark brows drew into a scowl. “Is this too much for you?”

  “I haven’t a clue why you would think that, James. It was only last night I believed you were dying and we slept together for the first time. Now, before breakfast, you inform the entire house that we’re to be married.”

  “Why didn’t you have breakfast?”

  “Do you honestly think I could face the rest of the household across a table after last night?”

  “I did. Faced the servants, I mean. I took breakfast in my room as I often do.”

  “Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?”

  “You’ll have to eat sooner or later.”

  She contemplated him in concern. “You really don’t remember coming out of your room?”

  He grimaced. “God. I didn’t run up and down the stairs naked in front of Cook, did I?”

  “Not quite,” she said, dropping her hair to cover her breasts. “James, please, do we have to hold this conversation in front of the window? I feel extremely uncomfortable.”

  “I’ll close the drapes.”

  She sighed in pleasure as he strode across the floor without the least inhibition and casually drew the curtains, like a Greek god disappearing into the obscurity of Olympus, to the disappointment of any mortal who happened to be standing below. Who would have thought that she would admire a man’s backside? Or that the way his lean body moved could make her mouth go dry?

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” He strode up to her, raking a hand through his hair. “Tell me about last night.”

  “You had a nightshirt on, with that hideous poultice dripping down your legs. You lumbered down the hall like a wounded beast. Yes, Cook stood guard at the stairs so that you wouldn’t break your neck. Mary saw everything.”

  His gaze turned inward to a self-torture Ivy could feel. She looked away, wishing she hadn’t told him. He would despise her, however, if she hid the truth. At last he gave a rueful laugh that broke the tension.

  “I apologize,” he said. “Wendover tried to tell me this morning, but we were interrupted. Is that the worst of it?”

  “As far as I know. I was locked out of your room after that.”

  She looked up. So much for self-torture. He was sprawled out across the bed in complete disregard for his effect on her senses. Enough light entered the room that she could make out the blistered skin on his right arm, his muscular thighs and the rigid organ that he made no coy effort to conceal. He was incongruously magnificent on the floral counterpane, a lion in a field of roses and poppies. But she was not the least bit easy standing before him with every dimple and flaw exposed. His eyes raked her with raw desire.

  He smiled. “You still look uncomfortable.”

  He looked utterly dangerous while she stood suspended in a sensual daze.

  “Ivy, lie down beside me and close your eyes.”

  She did, her blood quickening at the request.

  “Is that better?” he asked, caressing her back until she gave a deep sigh.

  “Yes.”

  “There are three conditions I will require of you from this day on.”

  “Hmm?” This was certainly the sweetest day of her life. He had survived the night. He wanted to marry her. The past five years of grief, shame, and deprivation would be erased.

  “Anything,” she whispered. And she meant it with all her heart.

  “First, you will never drug me again, no matter what the physician says, no matter that I might be taking my last breath. I want to be aware at all times. Do you agree?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know that it’s a wise choice, but, yes.”

  “It is a wise choice, believe me. I became quickly addicted to opiates after I was injured. It was hell to break their hold on me. I don’t want that to happen again. I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the willpower the next time.”

  “I didn’t realize that. I apologize for forcing it on you.”

  “Second, you will always tell me the truth, no matter how embarrassing or how unpleasant it might be. I should have told you before about my addiction.”

  She had always given him the truth until now. She would before the day ended. “And the last condition?”

  “We take pleasure in each other whether it is dark or light, whether others approve of what we do or not. Do you agree?”

  A pulse throbbed deep in her belly, responding to the sexuality in his voice. Her body agreed. Her mind had a few doubts, but they were swept away as soon as he started to kiss her, and all that mattered were the hands moving over her in persuasion and her need to belong to the potent male who was proving to be every bit as dangerous and delicious as he’d looked a few minutes ago.

  “One more thing,” he whispered, squeezing her nipples until she didn’t care if the ceiling flew off the roof.

  “What?”

  “Don’t expect proper behavior from me in the bedroom.”

  And next he proved exactly what he meant.

  Chapter 28

  He was in heaven, determined to ignore the pain radiating down his arm. He stretched out beneath her, drawing her down between his legs. She was warm and supple against the desperate hardness of his body. The filmy light played upon the curves of her breasts and generous hips. He wanted to see, to claim every inch of her.

  “Come here. Move up closer. You’re going to ride me if I stretched you enough last night.”

  He let her catch her breath before he grasped her bottom and lifted her over his engorged cock. “Ivy?” he said in hesitation. “Promise me you aren’t going to faint?”

  “I’m not made of china,” she whispered, breaking into a smile.

  He smiled back, his heart hammering. He was thick and throbbing to push inside her, but he guessed she’d be tender from last night, too tight to use without some restraint. If he could hold back. He slid his hands up to her breasts and teased her nipples again until she shivered and arched her back in supplication.

  “I’m right here, sweetheart. You’ll feel me very soon.”

  “I can feel you now.” She gazed down at him, her eyes half-closed in expectation. “Why are we waiting?”

  Why? Because once he let go, his reflexes would take over and nothing would stop him. All his good intentions would vanish and he would turn wild.

  The knob of his erection slipped through her copious moisture and then she was sinking down on him, her spine flexed, her breasts ripe and round. She was his goddess in the garden, a dream he’d lost and then found. She swallowed his prick in her snug body, not resisting even when he drew her down deeper and thrust upward.

  She moaned, and he ran one hand up her back, tracing her delicate ribs as he escalated the rhythm of his thrusts. Her hair cascaded down to his damp chest. Lightly he stroked her hip again, encouraging her movements. When she caught her breath, he stroked his fingers across her belly and lower through the curls of her cleft. The muscles of her sheath tightened and he felt the pressure to the base of his cock. She was giving herself to him, and he’d never known sex to turn him feral one moment and gentle the next.

  The shape of her body excited him, her full breasts with the silky pink areolas that he could lick for hours, knowing how easily he could bring her to the edge with a lash of his tongue. Her voluptuous derrière put forbidden ideas in his
mind—all that sweet flesh, his for the pleasure of taking. The male in him reveled in her climax, his conquest. He waited until he knew she was lost in sensation before he impaled her once more, holding her hips steady as he came.

  He clasped her to him tightly and buried his face in her hair as he recovered. His heart was thundering so hard that moments passed before he realized that Ivy was slipping out from under him in panic; it was then he heard someone was pounding at the outer door. He released his breath and reluctantly flung himself off the bed.

  “So much for privacy,” he muttered, darting around the room to collect their clothing.

  “Who is it?” she whispered, and caught the shift that he sent sailing over the bed.

  “Open the door, James,” an urgent voice said as if in answer to Ivy’s question. “It’s me, Wendover. There’s been a problem at Fenwick.”

  “Is something wrong with one of my sisters?” Ivy called out, allowing James to redo her corset and laces.

  “Your sisters have suffered a fright.” Wendover’s voice dropped to a gruff whisper. “I can’t tell you until you let me in. The ladies are downstairs. I don’t give a damn what the pair of you are doing. This is important.”

  James, his shirt still hanging out, glanced at Ivy to make sure she was decent before he hurried through the sitting room to open the door. “What the hell has happened that couldn’t wait another hour to tell us?”

  Wendover strode into the room and shut the door behind him. “There’s been a murder at Fenwick.”

  “Who was murdered?” Ivy asked, her hand freezing at the back of her dress. “One of the servants?”

  “Apparently it was a stranger who assaulted Lilac in the forecourt outside the gatehouse. A man chased her through the gardens and was strangling her.”

  Ivy leaned against James. “Who stopped him? Someone stopped him, didn’t they?”

  “Yes. It was the gentleman from London who is leasing the gatehouse. It appears he killed the man in order to save Lilac’s life.”

  “Sir Oliver,” Ivy said in disbelief. “He killed a man to save Lilac?”

  Wendover met James’s sharp look. “That’s what everyone seems to have witnessed. He’s downstairs, James, for you to talk to. I thought I should come and tell you right away. Ivy, I thought, too, that you would want to be with your sisters.”