He slipped two fingers into her, thrusting to match the rhythm of his tongue. She clenched about him, quivered, her head back against the pillow, moaning into the dark while he drove her on. Each flick of his tongue against that sweet, sweet spot sent her spiraling upward through flame and joy.
For a moment, he held her at the brink, her feet dangling over a void, as if he was determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from her. Then he applied full force to his thrusting fingers while sucking that sweet, sweet spot, and she plummeted, screaming, into oblivion.
NATHANIEL CAUGHT HIS breath. He felt as if he’d run for miles, yet he’d only watched Patience fall apart. His cock throbbed a painful reminder that he had yet to join her in that semblance of paradise. Soon, but he wanted to savor her for a moment while he basked in a certain measure of masculine pride that he’d satisfied this woman.
Her eyes fluttered open, bright in her flushed face, and he smiled. She looked utterly bemused, lost, really—lost in an exquisite afterglow he would damned well make her experience again. And again. As many times as he possibly could.
He reached to frame her face with his fingers, tracing the delicate line of her cheekbones and jaw. “That’s one.”
Before she could reply, he captured her lips and demanded a response, demanded a renewal of her arousal, as he settled himself between her legs. When she opened to him and twined her fingers through his hair, he thrust home.
At last.
He groaned into her mouth. Such warmth surrounded him, drew him into her depths. He wanted to lose himself completely in her tight sheath, pound away until both of them ceased to exist as separate people.
A red haze of lust began to descend, and he fought for control even as he withdrew and pressed in again. Her hips rose to meet his, and a groan tore from his throat.
Smooth, so smooth. So wet and tight. She moved with him in perfect rhythm, her breathing rapid, her swollen lips parted and emitting such lovely sounds of passion.
She murmured something incoherent. His passion-addled brain struggled to make sense of it, but the most he could decipher was encouragement. He pushed himself onto his elbows, changing the angle of penetration and thrusting deeper.
She arched beneath him and hummed a drawn-out note of pleasure. He trembled and burned with the need for release. His entire body tightened with it. He gritted his teeth and refused to give in.
Not yet. Not until he’d experienced her contracting about him, squeezing him dry as she reached another peak.
She was close. Her internal muscles rippled along his length. So good. So hot. So utterly perfect.
Her thighs gripped his flanks, her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and her nails bit into his flesh.
“Come for me, love.” His words were ragged, low, and harsh, a sensual command.
Her eyes fluttered open. “What?”
Right. He’d forgotten himself and used a term no lady of her station should know, but he’d no idea how to explain. Not now. Not in this moment. So he made his reply physical, increasing his tempo, thrusting deeper.
She hitched in a breath, the sound nearly a hiccup. A tremor wracked her body, then another. She opened her mouth in a long, keening cry, while inside, she pulsed about him in rhythmic waves of ecstasy.
He gritted his teeth against a violent urge to come. Not yet, not inside her, not until she was done. Her climax fluttered onward, at once pleasure and torture from not giving in to instinct. A drop of sweat trailed down his jaw. He closed his eyes, and a tremor wracked his body. His entire being tightened, starting in his bollocks.
“Oh God.” He wouldn’t last. Not a moment longer. With a shudder and a groan, he pulled out of the sweet haven of her body and let his release shoot into the sheets.
Spent, unable to support himself any longer, he collapsed onto her. Her arms tightened about him, pulled him against her. The soft peaks of her breasts flattened beneath his chest. He expelled a breath in a sigh of contentment, of utter completion.
HOURS LATER, NATHANIEL stared at the ceiling, watching the light change from midnight’s shadows to the grays of impending dawn. Patience lay sleeping in the circle of his arms, her hair spread over his chest like a blanket, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Right where she belonged.
God only knew he ought to have drifted off long since. Over the course of the night, he’d lost count of how many times he’d made this woman cry out. He’d certainly proved himself as lustful as he’d been at sixteen. Perhaps even more, but then, he had so many lost years to make up for.
He tightened his embrace and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Lord, to sleep like this—or not—every night, in a small corner of paradise here on earth. But then some part of him had always suspected lovemaking would be different with this woman.
The reality had surpassed his wildest imaginings.
He glanced at the window, praying for a wall of white, another snowstorm to strand him even longer. If he was certain of anything, he was certain of this—a single night wasn’t nearly enough to learn all there was to Patience, Lady Worthington. A year wouldn’t comprise enough time, nor a decade—and he’d already sacrificed that much on the altar of duty.
He’d lost her once. He couldn’t stand for it to happen again.
Noises echoed from somewhere in the house—the quiet thumps of footfalls, the servants preparing the grates and starting fires. With any luck, he’d have another day and another night with her. Heaven let it be.
A sudden tapping at the door startled him from his thoughts.
“Your Grace?” The thickness of the oak muffled a feminine voice. Not the one who cooked, the other one. Linnet. “Your pardon for the disturbance.”
Did he detect a note of disapproval? He ought to be thankful for the woman’s assumptions, for they were the only things preventing her from entering. To be safe, he pulled the blankets over Patience.
“What is it?” he called.
Patience stirred and raised her head, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
“Someone’s come asking for you,” Linnet replied through the door.
“Who?” But even as he asked the question, the answer rose in his mind. No one else knew his whereabouts.
“Your coachman, sir.” No one but him. “He set out as soon as he could to collect your carriage, reckoning you’d like to continue on your journey. He says the roads are clear.”
Chapter Seven
PATIENCE WASN’T READY for the idyll to be over, not after the heights Nathaniel had shown her last night. He’d taken her places she hadn’t known existed. Though she’d behaved in an utterly wanton manner, she wished to continue the exploration. Good Lord, what woman would refuse such pleasure? But with him. Only with him.
Worse, her desire went beyond the bedchamber. She longed to pass more days in his company, drinking tea at breakfast, walking in the woods, casting snowballs. Laughing. Simply enjoying each other.
Yet he was leaving. She could hardly stop him, though. His family was expecting him. Just as hers was expecting her.
Your families will always stand between you. His especially. Though the admonition rang in her head, she clearly heard Linnet’s voice.
She pushed the thoughts aside and busied herself with repacking her things in preparation for setting out to her brother’s once more. Anything to keep her from focusing on Nathaniel and the fact that he was walking out of her life. Again.
Blast. Her throat tightened suspiciously, and the backs of her eyes stung. She should have staved off that particular thought.
The door to her bedchamber burst open. “Good Lord.” Linnet quickly dropped into a curtsy. “Your pardon, my lady, but what are you about?”
Patience glanced at the piles of gowns on her bed. In her effort to occupy herself, she’d rather made a mess of things. “I thought I’d reconsider which garmen
ts to take to my brother’s.”
Linnet strode to the bed and lifted a pale yellow confection in filmy muslin. “Were you planning on staying until next summer?” She shook her head. “You’ve gone and put your foot in it, haven’t you?”
Patience returned her maid’s gaze steadily. It wasn’t as if Linnet couldn’t work out for herself what had transpired last night. Clearly her statement referred to more than Patience taking pleasant advantage of her widowhood.
“If I have, I am well beyond the age where I might be expected to bear any consequences for my actions.” She managed that reply with far more confidence than she felt.
Linnet gathered a few more summery gowns and stored them in the dressing room. “Will there be consequences?”
Only the scars on my heart.
She’d wanted one night, and one night was what she’d received. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly. But any resulting wounds would have to be borne with quiet composure.
“There were never any in my marriage,” she replied. “I shouldn’t think there’d be any now.” Not when Nathaniel had taken a gentleman’s precautions and finished in the sheets, but Patience was not about to divulge that kind of detail.
“Men,” Linnet spluttered. “They do love to blame their shortcomings on women whenever they can. How can you be sure your lack of children was not due to your husband?”
“I cannot, but there’s no sense in discussing the matter. I doubt I shall have occasion to repeat any indiscretions that may have occurred.” Not when she and Nathaniel led such utterly separate lives.
Linnet threw her a look that all but shouted, I wouldn’t be so certain. “His Grace sent me to fetch you.”
This was it then. This was good-bye.
“Yes, I suppose he’s eager to be off.” Patience unclasped her hands—she’d been twisting them in her skirts without realizing—and strode for the staircase. She’d nothing left to do but hold up her chin, straighten her spine, and wish him well. Any tears could wait until she was alone.
He stood by the front door, dressed in his caped greatcoat and holding his hat in gloved hands, by all appearances a man ready to affront whatever winter might throw at him. His gaze swept over her as she descended to the entrance hall. Intense appreciation sparked in the blue depths of his eyes.
Yes, he might well enjoy the sight of her, but that wasn’t preventing him from leaving.
“We find ourselves back where we started two days ago.” He took her hand and bent over it. “I am bound for my estate on the other side of Gloucester.”
He paused for her reply, his gaze still heavy with scrutiny, but what response could he possibly expect from her when he’d stated the obvious? Did he intend her to take hope from the sort of inanity he might utter over tea at a social call?
A new thought struck a horrifying blow to a heart already scraped raw by a night beyond her wildest imaginings. What if all his pretty declarations yesterday had been nothing more than calculated seduction? A game, a trifle.
She thought back to the young buck she’d met ten years ago, but, beyond Diana’s declarations, Patience could not recall any rumors that he made a habit of breaking hearts. But then he’d been the heir to a dukedom. The eyes of society would forgive such a man a great deal based on his social standing alone.
If he merely wished to seduce you, why would he wait an entire decade? an annoying voice in her head argued. Surely he’d have found another outlet for his passions in the meantime. More than one.
No, no. She couldn’t afford to let that voice sway her. If she convinced herself he harbored feelings for her, it would only make this separation more painful. And would he not have broached the entire parting differently? He wasn’t making the slightest attempt to stay on.
“You should be on your way if you wish to arrive before dark.” She’d meant to reply in kind, but to her own ears, her reply carried far more ice than she’d intended.
Something hardened about his jawline. He hadn’t expected that frosty reception either. What was more, he didn’t like it. At all. Good Lord, what had happened to her over the past couple of days? First she behaved like a complete wanton, and now she was deliberately provoking a duke.
Well, good. He—no, his entire family—needed provocation. Someone should have shown them all long ago that an accident of birth was no reason to lord themselves over the rest of the world.
Accident of birth. The exact words he’d used with Jamie. The memory of the duke’s interaction with a small boy only compounded her inner turmoil. Blast it all, she no longer knew what to think.
“I’d hoped,” he said so tightly that she could hear his clenched molars, “that last night meant enough to you that I’d at least merit a good-bye kiss.”
Before she could respond, he reached for her, taking her by the wrist this time, his grip merciless. His lips crushed to hers, harder and more demanding than anything he’d asked of her in his bedchamber. It was as if he wished to leave a permanent imprint of himself on her—like a brand.
All too soon, he released her, and she staggered back, gasping for breath. She touched her fingertips to her mouth, half expecting to encounter blisters.
“I’d hoped,” he went on, “last night meant enough to you that I might convince you to come with me.”
Her knees wobbled, and she reached for the wall. “I . . . I could not possibly . . . How would it look for me to arrive in your company unannounced? I would not have your family say you’ve insulted them by lodging your mistress beneath your roof.”
“Is that what you think?” His tone was downright dangerous.
“Of course not.” Not based on his reaction, at any rate. “But I know what your family will make of me.” Her mind echoed with the verbal darts his sister used to aim in her direction, terms like countrified and upstart and aiming far too high. Oh, they’d never been direct. Diana was far too polite to make a scene, but she knew the effect of a well-placed stage whisper. “In any case, my brother expected me two days ago.”
“There is your solution. Arrive in his company, and no one can make any claim of scandal. In fact . . .” His expression relaxed into a smile. “Come for Twelfth Night, all of you. I will inform my mother and add you to the guest list.”
His mother presented merely one obstacle. His sister, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. “I don’t know if I’d dare eat in front of them.”
“Why on earth not?”
“The one time I happened to be invited to the same dinner party as you, I had the misfortune to be seated across from your sister.” Of course he wouldn’t recall. His place had been exactly ten places away and on the same side of the table. Patience had stolen enough glances in his direction to have counted.
“I know my sister can be difficult, but why would you term it a misfortune?” Now he sounded merely intrigued. Perhaps they could part on better terms, at least.
“I had the distinct feeling she took the seating as a personal affront.”
“Ah, yes, she has her moments of pomposity.”
Patience crossed her arms. “If you want to term it that. She took advantage of her location in the end.”
“How so?”
“She watched the entire meal to make certain I used the correct fork at every service.”
“And did you?”
Good Lord, how his teasing tore at her heart. If only her husband could have offered her companionship like this. She returned his smile but feared the expression was forced. “I didn’t dare not.”
His gloved hand touched her cheek. “I must go, but do come. All of you.”
“I’ll think on it.” She couldn’t force any more words past the sudden knot in her throat.
Eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to watch him depart, Patience listened to the door latch click behind him. Through the heavy plank, the creak of t
he harness somehow reached her ears. A horse snorted. The coachman chirruped, and with a slap of the reins, Nathaniel was gone.
Right, and now she ought to see about leaving herself. Off to Peter’s before he worried any further about her whereabouts. Heaven only knew she wouldn’t be able to tolerate remaining in this house for much longer. Not when Nathaniel had seemingly left an imprint behind him. If she set out today, at least she wouldn’t be able to do anything foolish, like sleep on the sheets she and the duke had set aflame last night.
At last she opened her eyes and turned for the stairs.
“My lady.” Hair askew beneath her mobcap, Jane trundled down the passage. “Has His Grace gone? He forgot this.” She held out a small box wrapped in plain brown paper.
“Yes, it’s too late.” Somehow Patience summoned the fortitude to speak normally. “He’s already left.”
As she reached for the package, her instincts twinged. Had he left it behind on purpose? To give to her or to ensure she followed? But she could send this on if necessary. She wouldn’t have to deliver anything personally.
A separate sheet of paper crinkled beneath her fingers. She scowled at Jane.
“I didn’t read it, my lady,” the maid replied, all innocence.
Patience lowered her brows further for good measure. The package might have been wrapped roughly, but the message was written on proper vellum. She unfolded the note.
My dear—
At the mere greeting her eyes clouded. Yes, he’d called her that. His words to her echoed through her mind. Oh, my dear. Last night we barely scraped the surface of my regrets. Heartfelt words. Tender words, fraught with emotion. She forced herself to read on.
It is a season for thinking of those who are less fortunate than we, and so I hope you will fulfill a small request for me. Enclosed is one of the gifts I had thought to present to my sons to remember this Christmastide. It is a mere trifle to them, and upon due consideration, I feel it is better conferred on young Jamie. Will you ensure that he receives it?
All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke Page 31