Ellie could tell by his expression that by repeating such gossip she had somehow succeeded in seriously insulting him. ‘I did not mean to give offence, your Grace.’
‘I am not in the least offended,’ he denied.
‘I beg to differ...’
His expression softened slightly. ‘I am not offended by anything you have personally said to or about me, my displeasure is for those people who obviously have nothing better to do with their time than make up scandalous and inaccurate gossip!’ His voice had hardened again over the last statement.
Ellie realised that his displeasure at hearing of society’s opinion of him was completely genuine.
Gossip, which Ellie, in view of their own recent intimacies, had found extremely hurtful to overhear. So much so that just imagining Justin having a mistress, and that he had gone to be with her once he had left the ball, had only added to her inability to sleep the night before.
But Justin now appeared to be denying it most vehemently.
Too vehemently to be believed?
Somehow she did not think so. Justin was all of those things she had accused him of being earlier—he could be cruel on occasion, insufferable and hateful—but at the same time she knew him to be a truthful man; indeed, it was that very honesty, his bluntness, which was usually to blame for all of those other, infuriating traits!
As such, if he now said he did not have a current mistress, married or otherwise, then she believed him...
It was an acceptance which made her feel as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. A weight she had not even realised had been there until it was removed...and which once again caused her to question her feelings towards this unattainable duke. A question she knew, even as she asked it, that she shied away from answering!
She rose to her feet. ‘I am sure the dowager duchess has been most forbearing, but perhaps it is time for you to rejoin her in her parlour?’ She linked her gloved hands tightly together in front of her. ‘I really do have to change before dinner.’
‘You have not said yet whether or not you believe my denials.’
She shrugged. ‘Does it matter whether or not I believe you?’
Justin narrowed his lids as he noted the challenging tilt of her chin and the directness of her unreadable gaze.
He also realised that his own mood just now had been a defensive one. A feeling which was surely totally misplaced; it should not matter to him what his young ward thought of him, or his reputation. ‘Not in the least,’ he finally drawled.
Her gaze dropped from his. ‘As I thought.’
Justin gave her a terse bow before striding across to the doorway. ‘I will see you at dinner.’
‘What?’
He paused to turn, his hand already on the door handle. ‘I said we will meet again at dinner.’
She blinked. ‘I had not realised her Grace had invited you to dine here this evening.’
Justin smiled. ‘Of course...you were not present just now during the last part of my conversation with my grandmother.’ He stood with his arms folded across his chest. ‘If you had been, then you would know that it is my intention to dine here every evening for the foreseeable future. Breakfast, too, on the mornings I rise early enough to partake of it. I may be absent for the occasional luncheon—as you say, I do have other ducal responsibilities in need of my attention.’
Ellie gasped. ‘I do not understand...’
His smile widened. ‘It is quite simple, Eleanor. After years of my grandmother’s interminable nagg—er, helpful suggestions, I have decided it is time that I moved back into the ducal home. As such I, and my belongings and personal staff, will be taking up permanent residence at Royston House as from tomorrow morning.’
Chapter Ten
‘Why are you so surprised by my decision, Eleanor?’ Justin asked as Ellie could only stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed across the bedchamber at him in the wake of his announcement. ‘After all, you are responsible for alerting me to the fact that Dr Franklyn made yet another visit to my grandmother this morning.’
That might be so, but she certainly had not thought it would result in his decision to move into Royston House!
No doubt the dowager duchess was beside herself with pleasure at this unexpected turn of events, but it was equally as unthinkable to Ellie that she would have to suffer this disturbing man’s presence every hour of every day ‘for the foreseeable future’!
She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘Well, yes, I did do that, of course. But I did not mean it to—I had not expected—’
‘You did not envisage it would result in your now having to suffer my living here?’ Royston guessed drily.
No, she most certainly had not! Nor did there seem any point in her denying that was her response, when she had moments ago gawked at the duke like a dumbstruck schoolgirl, no doubt with a look of horror upon her face. ‘Will the dowager duchess not think it...strange that you have capitulated now, when you have always resisted her pleadings in the past?’
The duke’s mouth quirked. ‘My grandmother does not plead, Eleanor, she suggests or instructs. And, no, I do not see why she should find my decision in the least strange.’
Ellie nibbled her lower lip. ‘Surely she will realise, eventually, that someone—notably myself—must have informed you of Dr Franklyn’s visit earlier today?’
‘Not unless you or I were to tell her of it.’ He arched golden brows. ‘Do you intend telling her?’
‘No, of course I do not.’ She frowned her agitation in the face of his infuriating calm. ‘I just—your grandmother will be too pleased by your decision at the moment to question it, but once she does—what reason will you give her for this change of heart?’
He looked down the length of his arrogant nose. ‘Why should I give her any reason? This is, after all, the official London home of the Duke of Royston. That I have not chosen to live in it for some years does not mean I was not at liberty to do so at any time I chose.’
Ellie was aware of that. But she was also aware that the dowager duchess was a woman of astuteness as well as intelligence, and once that dear lady had opportunity to think, to fully consider Royston’s sudden unexpected change of heart, she would most assuredly question as to why it should have occurred now, of all times.
Ellie had dashed off that note to Royston this morning for the simple reason he had asked her to do so should such a thing occur, but she had not, as he so easily guessed and obviously found so amusing, expected to now have him thrust into her own life on a daily basis. Indeed, the very idea of it, given the circumstances of their own fraught relationship, was a total nightmare for her!
It was not too difficult for Justin to read the emotions flickering across her expressive face.
It was the last emotion—horror at the prospect of living with him—which irritated Justin the most. Especially when his real reason for moving into Royston House had everything to do with her, with the conversation that had taken place with Richmond this afternoon, and its possible repercussions upon Eleanor, rather than his grandmother’s health, or any real desire on Justin’s part to reside here.
It really was too insulting, given those circumstances, for him to have to suffer Eleanor’s obvious dismay at the very thought of being under the same roof as him, of sharing even so large a residence as Royston House with him. But it was an insult he had no choice but to endure, unless he wished to tell her of the contents of his conversation with Richmond this afternoon, which, for the moment, he had no intention of doing.
Far better if Justin were to proceed with his previous decision to privately and quietly check into those details for himself, before facing the possibility of having to burden her with any of them.
She did not need to know, for instance, of the scandal that had ensued in India twenty years ago, in which Dryden Litchfie
ld had been accused of attacking and raping the recently widowed wife of a fellow officer. A rape that Richmond, after seeing Eleanor the previous evening, and noting her likeness to Muriel Rosewood, and the richness of her auburn hair so like Litchfield’s had once been, now believed might have resulted in Eleanor’s very existence; Muriel Rosewood had not been with child when her husband had died, nor had there been any sign of it when she’d left India. The timing of the incident certainly suggested that Eleanor could well be Litchfield’s daughter...
No, Justin wouldn’t trouble Eleanor with any of that until he was sure, beyond any doubt, that Litchfield was, in fact, her biological father. And possibly not even then, either...
He straightened his shoulders. ‘The decision has been made and tomorrow morning will be acted upon,’ Justin said firmly. ‘As such, I will see you at dinner this evening.’
‘I—yes. Of course, your Grace—’
‘I have repeatedly requested that you not call me that,’ he growled.
Silky dark lashes lowered demurely over those expressive green eyes. ‘Then perhaps I should consider calling you “Uncle” Justin?’
‘Why, you little—!’ He did not even bother to finish the sentence as he strode furiously across the room towards her.
Too late, Ellie realised her mistake in goading him, looking up just in time to see him powering towards her, fury blazing in those sapphire-blue eyes, causing her to step back even as she held her hands up defensively. ‘Your Gr—er—Sir—Justin—’
‘It’s too late for that, Eleanor!’ His arms moved about her waist as he pulled her in tightly against him, her hands trapped between the softness of her breasts and the muscled hardness of his chest. ‘You are fully aware,’ he grated, ‘my feelings towards you are far from avuncular!’
How could she help but be aware of it when she could feel the evidence of his desire pressing into her abdomen!
Heat suffused her cheeks, her legs starting to tremble, as she looked at his face and saw evidence of that same desire blazing in the depths of the glittering blue eyes glaring down at her, high cheekbones thrown into sharp relief by the tight clenching of his jaw. ‘You are crushing me, Your—Justin.’ She turned her hands and began to push against the hardness of his chest in an unsuccessful attempt to free herself.
He bared his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘And so now you learn, too late, my dear, the lesson that baiting the tiger is much worse than simply awakening him!’
She blinked. ‘I was only—I merely—’
‘I know exactly what you were doing, Eleanor—and this is my answer!’ His head swooped downwards as he captured her lips with his own even as he took a step forwards, taking Ellie with him.
She gasped as her legs hit the mattress of the bed and she lost her balance, toppling backwards. Justin swiftly took full advantage of her parted lips in order to deepen the kiss, one of his hands moving to curve possessively about her chin as he followed her down, his heavier weight landing on top of her and crushing her into the mattress.
Ellie was so stunned to find herself lying on her back on the bed, Justin’s body pressing intimately against hers, that she no longer fought the onslaught as his lips continued to devour hers. Instead, she felt compelled to return that fever of passion, her arms moving up and over his shoulders to allow her to entangle her fingers in the silky softness of the hair at his nape as she kissed him back.
Quite when his punishing onslaught changed—when Justin’s lips became less demanding and instead sipped and tasted her own as he adjusted his position, the hardness of his arousal now pressing against her hip as one of his legs lay between hers, allowing the warmth of his hand to curve about the full softness of her breast—she had no idea.
Nor did she care, as the thrill of arousal coursed through her, causing her breast to swell into the heat of his palm as the soft pad of his thumb sought, and unerringly found, and began to caress, the swollen and sensitive berry pressing against the soft material of her gown.
Ellie felt hot, feverish, her throat arching as he continued to kiss and caress her, moving restlessly against him as she dampened between her thighs, groaning low in her throat, as his knee moved up to press gently against that sensitive nubbin she had recently discovered nestled there, even as his thumb and fingers plucked rhythmically at her now hardened and oh-so-sensitive nipple.
He dragged his lips from hers to trail kisses hotly across her cheek and down her throat, his breath warm, arousing, against the heat of her flesh, that tingling in her breasts rising to fever pitch as his lips and tongue now tasted the swell visible above her gown and causing another rush of dampness between her thighs.
‘Justin!’ she cried out achingly as his hand left her breast.
‘Yes—Justin,’ he growled intensely, his hand sliding up her back. ‘Say it, Eleanor. Say it, damn it!’
‘Justin,’ she breathed obediently. ‘Oh God, Justin, Justin, Justin...!’ That last trailed off to a groan as she felt his tongue laving the throbbing, engorged tip of her bared breast, having no idea how that had come about, only knowing that it gave her pleasure beyond imagining as he now took that hardened tip fully into the moist heat of his mouth.
Her fingers became entangled in the silkiness of his hair even as she arched up into that demanding mouth, sensations such as she had never known existed coursing through her as she felt his hand now cup her other bared breast, thumb and finger capturing the ripe tip, and causing exquisite pleasure as he continued to caress and then squeeze that tingling, aching fullness.
Justin raised his head slightly, his movement releasing Eleanor’s nipple from his mouth with a softly audible pop as he looked down in satisfaction at the swollen berry. The nipple and aureole were coloured a deep rose, the nipple engorged from the ministrations of his mouth and tongue, and continuing to flower as he blew on it gently, his gaze heating as his hand now lifted her breast until that nipple brushed against his lips.
He looked up into Eleanor’s face as he slowly ran his tongue skilfully against that responsive berry, groaning low in his throat as he saw she was looking back at him with fevered eyes, several tendrils of her hair having escaped their confines and falling enticingly about the warmth of her cheeks. She looked gloriously, wantonly, beautiful!
And he should stop this now. Should put an end to this before it was too late—
‘Justin...?’ she moaned even as her fingers tightened in his hair and she arched her back, pushing her nipple between his parted lips and back into the moist heat of his mouth.
All thoughts of stopping fled, his lashes lowering as he obediently suckled deeply, drawing that nipple up to the roof of his mouth, tongue flicking, teeth gently biting, at the same time as his hand caressed a path down to her thighs to her knees, pushing the material of her gown aside so that he might touch the bare, silken flesh beneath.
The backs of her knees held the warmth of velvet, her thighs as smooth as silk, satin drawers posing no difficulty as Justin sought, and found, the slit in that material between her thighs, allowing his fingers to slip inside to gently stroke her swollen, wet folds.
He dipped his fingers into that moisture even as he heard Eleanor’s gasp, half in shocked protest, half in pleasure, stroking her again and again, bathing his fingers in that moisture between each stroke, drawing her nipple deeply into his mouth in the same rhythm, until she no longer protested but groaned her pleasure as she writhed beneath him.
Justin was aware of the moment her hands fell down on to the bed beside her in surrender, of her head moving restlessly from side to side on the pillows, and he at last parted the silky folds and bared her sensitive and swollen nubbin to his caressing fingers and began to stroke in earnest. Softly and then harder, each time increasing the pressure, measuring his strokes to the rhythmic lifting of her hips, as she met each and every one of them, until he knew she was poised on the bri
nk of a shattering release.
‘Oh, it is too much...!’ she gasped in protest, yet at the same time unable to stop herself from arching up into those caresses, her fingers once again entangled tightly in his hair as she held his mouth against her breast. ‘Justin, do something...!’
Justin knew he was damned if he did. Damned if he did not. Because, he knew, whether he gave her the release she so obviously craved, or stopped this before that should happen, no doubt leaving her aching and wanting for hours afterwards, that she was never going to forgive him for arousing her to such a pitch that she lost control so completely she begged him for satisfaction.
* * *
Ellie had never known such pleasure as this existed. Had never dreamt—never so much as guessed it was there for the taking.
It really was too much, overwhelming even, as Justin turned his attention to her other breast, at the same time as he stroked between her thighs, fingers dipping into her sheath, but never quite entering, those moist fingers then moving higher to stroke the hardened nubbin above.
Such a tiny nubbin of flesh, and one that she had barely been aware of until Justin touched her, and yet it was such pleasure to have him touch her there, stroking her, his fingertip now tapping lightly against it, driving her higher, and then higher still, taking her up to a plateau of exquisite pleasure, before just seconds later she felt herself falling over the edge and down into a sea of never-ending sensations.
Again and again mindless pleasure washed over her, becoming the centre of her existence, all of her senses concentrated on those sensations: the feeling of her sheath as it pulsed and contracted, the fullness of that nubbin as it swelled and throbbed, the pleasure-pain of Justin’s lips and teeth capturing each of her nipples in turn, his breath so hot and arousing against her cooler flesh.
NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER Page 12