Her Mystery Duke

by Blackthorne, Natasha

  He lifted his glass and put it to his lips. It was empty, dry. That was a shock. He’d forgotten how much he’d drank tonight. And this idea to visit her might simply be a very illogical and emotionally dangerous seed born of intoxication.

  She had torn his heartfelt and generous offer to shreds.

  He’d never been dealt such an insolent blow. His hand tightened on the glass and he set it down.

  Slam!

  The violence of the sound shocked him back into the moment and the woman in his lap startled. “Your Grace?”

  He touched her face, stroked her cheek in a distracted gesture meant to soothe. But inside, he was still seething.

  No, by damn, that was it. He was going to pay Jeanne a visit and demand that she voice her refusal to his face. The decision seemed so fitting, so inevitable. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He reached into his pocket and withdrew a stack of pound notes, then tucked some of them into Violet’s low cut bodice.

  She lifted one artificially arched brow.

  He gave her a little nudge off his lap. “Not tonight.”

  * * * *

  Jeanne blinked sleepily. An apparition stood before her. An apparition reeking of stale brandy and cheap perfume.

  David.

  Here, after midnight. Maybe she was still dreaming. She leaned against the door, closed her eyes and shook her head. Determined to awaken fully, she opened her eyes.

  He was still there. His dark blue cutaway coat and white satin waistcoat clung to his hard-muscled chest and flat stomach. A gentleman dressed for the evening and handsome as the devil.

  A flash of lust tingled through her. Despite her sleepy mind, her nipples took notice and stood up. Her mouth dried with fear. Oh lord, he was trouble. More trouble than she’d initially anticipated. Disturbing her peace, her privacy. Drunk and reeking of some whore he’d likely bedded earlier in the evening at that! This was exactly why she had never let any of her lovers visit her at her garret. One inch given…

  “I knew it.”

  His lazy smile seemed to make his sensual mouth even more so. “Knew what, darling?”

  “How did you get in here? They lock the door at ten.”

  “The young maid was happy to allow me in.”

  Jeanne scanned his handsome, well-attired form once again. Of course he’d persuaded Patty to let him in. Mrs. Pillmore would expect twice or maybe three times the usual percentage she demanded from the others when she heard.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She made her voice as firm as she could manage.

  Arrogance hardened his expression. “I wouldn’t be here if you had simply treated my man of business with respect and also signed the contract.”

  Her mind jolted fully awake. “Take your contract and go straight to Hades for all I care.”

  She moved to close the door but he slammed his large, broad hand against it.

  The sound, the gesture sent her heart thudding. She wouldn’t show surprise or fear. She refused be intimidated on her own threshold. She glared at him.

  He stared back with a resolute expression. “Damn it, you’ll hear me out first.”

  She lifted her chin. “I don’t care to hear anything you have to say.”

  Those green eyes were made even more brilliant by the contrast of thick, black as midnight lashes. The light from her candle highlighted the angles and planes of his face. He was simply gorgeous. And for the long moments he held her gaze, she was in danger of being transfixed, of forgetting herself.

  “Jeanne.” His voice was soft, seductive. “Ah, Jeannie, don’t be so hard with me.”

  His use of “Jeannie” should have vexed her. But instead, a warm sensation blossomed deep in her chest. Still, she didn't trust it and she didn't trust him. “Please just leave, now.”

  “I am not leaving until you hear me out.”

  If they continued quarrelling in the corridor, the neighbors might complain to the landlady. She really had no choice. With a sigh, Jeanne opened the door wider and let him in.

  She closed it softly then turned to face him. “Well?”

  “Why did you tear up the agreement?”

  “That contract.” She scoffed. “I have never been so insulted in all my life.”

  “Insulted?” He drew his dark brows together and fixed her with a stern stare. “But I only want to give you some security.”

  “Only if I agree to never, ever attempt to find out who you really are or to contact you.”

  “I have told you. There is no place for you in my life. What did you expect from me?”

  “I didn’t expect to treated as though I were the lowest, vilest whore.”

  “I haven’t treated you like a whore.”

  “You’ve suggested that I am not to be trusted to respect your privacy—that I would throw myself into your life like the worst sort of scheming woman. I've had men who paid me who treated me far better."

  “They let you continue living in a hovel.” He made a sweeping gesture about the chamber. “And yet you judge they have treated you better.”

  “They courted me with soft words. They never so crudely said, ‘I want to put my cock inside you.’ They never said, ‘Get away from me and never return.’” She mimicked his most arrogant manner.

  “You prefer a dishonest approach?” A slight smile gentled his expression and he appeared to appraise her. “You are not as wise and hardened as you pretend.”

  She bristled. He did not know her. “I am as wise and hardened as any harlot you could have known.”

  “Hardened harlots cannot afford such stiff-necked pride as you have displayed. A hardened harlot would have snapped up the offer of a house and carriage.”

  “I value my independence.”

  “I ask for nothing in return for my offer.”

  She curled her lip up. “Ha! You would feel that I were bound by obligation.”

  “I would not.”

  “You would feel at liberty to visit whenever you wished.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I never intend to see you again.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “You are here now.”

  “I only came to hear you refuse my offer to my face.”

  “I refuse it. Now please go.”

  He leaned back against the door, his whole body seemed to sag and his features took on a pained, pinched expression. “Jeanne—”

  “You are most free with my given name.”

  He raised his brows. “It’s like that, is it?”

  She compressed her lips and hugged her arms tighter. “I am afraid it is. Especially seeing as I am allowed to know nothing of you.”

  “Miss Darling, then—please, reconsider.”

  “I don’t see why it should matter so greatly to you.”

  He snapped to attention with such alacrity that she stepped back. He came closer and stared down with a gaze so intense she fancied he might burn her. She caught her breath. Those gorgeous eyes…

  “Why should it matter to me, Miss Darling? The very devil if I know.”

  “Then forget me.”

  “I cannot.” His tone carried a wealth of torment. “You haunt my dreams. I cannot concentrate on my work. I worry about what you are doing. Are you safe? Are you comfortable?”

  “No one has worried over me since my mother died, sir. I am quite capable of looking after myself. You needn’t trouble yourself any longer on my account.”

  “Let me look after you. Let me care for you.” He touched her cheek.

  His touch sent sparks of delight along her skin. Currents of delight flowed through her, giving her shivers that made her nipples tighten. Images flickered through her mind. His large body pressing hers into the featherbed, holding her down, restraining her movements. His strong, sure hands parting her legs. His fingertips touching her folds that were becoming increasingly swollen, slicked with wetness …

  She shook herself.

  What was the matter with her? She should rebuff him. Push him away. However, his gaze
filled with sincerity and need. Why should he look at her with such need while he spoke of taking care of her? She didn’t know, but she also couldn’t look away.

  She attempted reason. “You are tired.”

  “I am. However, I cannot sleep.”

  He did look tired. No, more than tired, world-weary. Her heart panged with such sympathy, the sensation shocked her. Why should she feel sympathy for him? He’d insulted her, invaded her privacy. Yet she found herself putting her hand over his and pressing it close. “Go home and go to sleep. Forget about me.”

  “I will not sleep.”

  “Nonsense. You should have some warmed wine. Tell your valet to put some soothing herbs in it.”

  “I have tried everything. No amount of herbs is going to help. I cannot sleep until you relent and say you will allow me to care for you.”

  She let her hand drop away from his. “I don’t understand this depth of concern.”

  “Jeannie, darling, you know I am quite foxed.” “Yes, you’re reeking of it…and you smell of a brothel.”

  A twinkle entered his eyes. “Well, that didn’t do any good, either.”

  “Didn’t it?” She injected false, sweet sympathy in her tone, though why she was playing his game, teasing with him, she didn’t have the faintest idea.

  “The women there were not quite as lovely as I remembered, though I was just there and had a fine time a two months ago.”

  Gladness swelled within her chest. She couldn’t deny it, couldn’t help a small smile. “Something happened to change your mind since then?”

  “Something did indeed.”

  Her face ached. She was grinning at him like a silly chit. He smiled, too. The last of her opposition floated away. She should have reached for it and held on to it but she suddenly didn’t have the will.

  He lifted his hand from her cheek and brushed a spot high on the crest of her cheekbone with the tips of two fingers. “You have ink smudged on your face.”

  She touched her face. “I fell asleep, writing at my desk.”

  “So, you don’t sleep either?”

  “I sleep in the daytime.”

  “But not much lately.” His voice resonated with tenderness. “You have shadows under your eyes.”

  “Yes, not much lately.”

  “I shall tell you something,” he said in a confessional tone.

  “Are we sharing secrets now?”

  “Yes, I think so but I probably wouldn’t tell you if I weren’t so damned foxed. You must promise not to hold it against me later.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I care for you.”

  His tone resonated with such emotion. She could feel the ache of it in her chest. That tone and the meaning of his words, crashed over her like a splash of icy water, dispelling the playful mood. With her heart thudding and her mouth gone dry, she searched his face.

  His gaze was serious, he wasn’t teasing. He believed it.

  But they didn’t know each other and it wasn’t possible. “David, please do—”

  “I don’t know how deeply the feeling goes. I don’t intend to find out. I have no time for a mistress.” Regret echoed in every syllable. The aching in her chest rose to form a lump in her throat. As though she were just as regretful as he. Which was ridiculous. She had no wish to be any man’s kept woman. The key phrase there was “kept.” Kept waiting on his needs.

  “I simply have no time,” he repeated, more firmly and with less emotion.

  Suddenly, she understood. He was just as protective of his peace as she was her own, and just as afraid of the emotions developing between them. He had not intended to insult her with the contract. He may even have been trying to protect her in a way. Sympathy overcame her indignation and sense of threat.

  “I once cared for someone else,” he said.

  “Thérèse.”

  “Yes, Thérèse. It ended badly. For her. I had no control over what happened to her, yet it haunts me. I want to do what I can to ensure that you don’t come to—”

  Unable to bear listening any further, she spoke over him. “I have always looked after myself. I do not need a protector.”

  Passion flashed into his eyes. He cupped her face. The move was so abrupt that it made her startle. “It must be so exhausting for you to be brittle against the world. I would adore softening your harsh edges. I want to take away your worries.”

  He devoured her with his gaze, as if he would possess her by the intensity of his stare alone. For some odd reason, it hurt her to see that need. She caressed his hand where it lay on her face. “I don’t want to invade your life, David.”

  “I have already invaded yours. Isn’t that the problem between us?”

  “It’s not a problem.” She tilted her face and stood on her tiptoes so she could lean closer, so that he could feel her breath on his lips. “Not tonight.”

  The pupils of his eyes dilated, turning his gaze dark. “You should be careful with such invitations. I have told you, there’s no place for you in my life.”

  “Just one more night cannot hurt either of us. You must promise to never come back and I shall promise never to intentionally compromise your privacy. It is perfectly safe.” The last sentence rang patently false in her ears. She smiled at him to cover over her discomfort.

  “You’re so young, you don’t realize that this between us was never safe.”

  She opened her mouth and his tongue swept in, his kiss coming hard and hungry. It sucked her breath away. She grasped his shoulders and clung.

  You don’t realize that this between us was never safe.

  His last words echoed in her mind and a curl of unease tingled around her navel. But his mouth was hot and moist and delicious. She stood higher on her tiptoes and leaned into him. He pressed his hands to her back and supported her while he made her world spin.

  She slid her tongue against his again and again, savoring his taste. Because she wanted to remember. Because there would never be another time.

  David lifted his head then swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He took the hem of her nightdress and she helped him pull it over her head, then he tossed it aside.

  She watched as he began to remove his clothing. But he was tired. Foxed. His movements were slow and clumsy. She was dying to see his magnificent male body bared. Impatience thrummed in her blood until she jumped from the bed to aid him. While she worked at his buttons, he kept cupping her face and kissing her.

  “My lovely girl. My lovely, lovely girl,” he said, bathing her in brandy-tinged breath. There was something unbearably carnal about brandy on the breath of a man who set to fuck her. She didn’t understand it. She stopped trying and focused harder on stripping him of his evening clothes and tossing them to a careless pile on the floor. With the clothes went the hateful scent of that other nameless, faceless woman.

  All that remained was him. And he was absolutely delicious. She leaned into his bare chest and licked him, tasting his salty, musky skin.

  He grasped the back of her hair and gently pulled her head back. Shivers of pleasure raced over her scalp and down her back. Her nipples tightened. She sucked in her breath.

  David stared down at her, his eyes gone dark with desire. “Go to the bed and lay on your back.”

  She stared at him for the space of three slow, deep breaths, savoring the quivers of anticipation in her lower belly.

  She was dripping for him.

  He exhaled loudly and then she found herself swept up into his arms, held against his warm, hard muscled body. He carried her back to the bed and laid her on her back. “Stay there—do not move. Do not move an inch.”

  He spoke with a deadly softness, as if to a child who has pressed and pressed on nerves all day and risked a dire punishment. He scanned her body with his gaze. Giddy tension built and put every fiber of her being on the most delectable edge.

  “Spread your legs for me.”

  She parted them slowly, revealing herself to him. Increased wet
ness surged from her sex. Her nub pulsed like a beating heart with need.

  His eyes seemed to turn darker, more hooded. She knew how her flesh appeared. Swollen, deeply pink. An urge struck her that she should touch herself. He would watch her pleasure herself. She would be wild, without shame. She would drive him to insane passion…

  The bed rocked as he crawled up between her legs and hoisted her knees over his broad shoulders. “I want to make you come hard.” His voice was hoarse. He stroked the fine hairs on her outer lips. “I want to make you come so hard.”

  He placed a soft kiss on her mons. She closed her eyes as he repeated the gesture, over and over. Dozens of tiny, feather-soft kisses.

  She clutched his head. “David, oh David…”

  He spread her nether lips apart. “You’re so beautiful, I love your sweet little cunt.”

  “Please, David, please, ple—”

  Her voice cut off as he bent and plunged his tongue into her slick depths. She dug her fingers into the silken strands of his hair. He touched his tongue to her nub and traced gentle, slow circles, maybe fifty, maybe a hundred of them as he drew her pleasure out. The unbearably sweet tension bore upon her, weighed her down. She sank so deeply, so lost in the transfixing sensation, that the old featherbed felt as fluffy and soft as a cloud.

  Without warning, he shifted position and gently rolled her on to her stomach. She sprawled on the coverlet, her dazed senses spinning. He thrust two fingers into her cunt, hooking them, stroking her forward wall. A fierce jab of ecstasy struck deep in her womb. Then warm wetness touched her arsehole. His tongue!

  The shock of it sent her into a spiral of all consuming pleasure, a series of those fierce womb deep spasms until she was grasping the bedding in her hands and sobbing, her body convulsively quaking.

  She fell down to earth, a gentle landing.

  “Oh goodness, David, oh goodness.” She rolled onto her back and smiled up at him. Her breath came in quiet pants. Tenderness encased her heart, as soft as eiderdown. Every line of his visage imprinted itself on her.

  “I am so foxed, my darling.” He laid his head upon her lower stomach then closed his eyes.