The Princess and the Duke

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  Meredith waited, tense. “How close, Pierce?”

  He looked like a man with no patience left. “We caught him scaling one of the walls.”

  “Of the residence?” Her voice rose, and chills shuddered down her spine.

  “It was a long time ago,” he said flatly. “Security measures have been completely changed since then.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s what I’m telling you.”

  “It’s not enough. Either you can tell me, or I’ll make an appointment with His Majesty and find out from him.”

  His lips flattened. “Don’t pull the high-and-mighty-princess routine now. Not with me. Not after everything that’s gone on between us.”

  She was trembling. “He, she, whoever it was got close. Residence close. And you were involved in stopping it.”

  “Meredith, the details don’t matter.”

  “Of course they matter! It explains everything, don’t you see? You were highly involved. And that’s why the son of a preacher is now the Duke of Aronleigh. Because you’re the one who stopped the attacker.”

  A hard line had appeared in his lean cheek.

  “I’m right.” She wrapped her hands around his. Rubbed her thumbs over his fists. “Aren’t I? You didn’t save only Major Fox’s life that night. You saved my father’s life, too. You saved the King of Penwyck.”

  “Yes.” His voice was clipped.

  She sat back, absorbing that. Her gaze slipped over the lovely interior of his flat. She could hear the soft, steady tick of the clock on his fireplace mantel. And she could feel him. His strength. And his pain.

  The very fact that she had to drag details from him told her more than anything that his means for stopping the attacker must have been severe.

  He was a warrior who prized peace.

  “Pierce?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could I kiss you now?”

  His lips twisted. “That’s your response?”

  “You saved my father’s life.” She smiled shakily. “I think it’s merited.”

  He let out a long breath. “The kisses I want from you have nothing to do with merit.”

  She quickly sat forward, pressing her fingertips over his lips. “Pierce.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  She slid forward another few inches, her knees slipping between his, knocking right up against the hard edge of the coffee table. “Be quiet.” When she replaced her fingers with her lips, she felt his smile. It was faint. But it was there.

  And her heart simply overflowed.

  There was no more hiding from the truth that had been growing inside her.

  She loved him.

  It took everything Pierce possessed to push Meredith away when he wanted to do nothing more than continue kissing her.

  For the rest of his life.

  But there were still secrets untold. Secrets that duty demanded he honor.

  Even knowing all that, he couldn’t fully push her away. He caught her hands in his. Pressed his lips to her palm, battering back the need. Beneath his fingertips, her pulse fluttered wildly through the tender, pale skin of her inner wrists.

  Delicate wrists that drew his lips like magnets. That drew a soft, needy gasp from her when he tasted that pulse.

  “What happened here?” He gently nudged away the slender, subtly elegant bracelet, baring the thin red scrape that had been nearly hidden.

  Her fingers curled as if she wanted to hide it. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing should mar your skin.”

  Her eyes were clouded with desire. A rosy flush rode her delicately sculpted cheekbones. And he was two inches away from losing his sanity. “Did you catch your bracelet on something?” He ran his thumb up her wrist, his need clawing at him as he saw the way her lips parted softly, her eyes darkening.

  “The King’s grip,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Pierce, I can’t bear this. Not if you’re going to push me away again.”

  “The King.” A tangle of emotion grabbed him by the throat. “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I got him at a bad time. He’s not quite himself these days.” She disentangled her wrists from his hands and slid sideways off the couch. “I have to go.”

  “You’re upset.” She looked near tears. “Stay.”

  “So you can offer your handkerchief before you reject me?”

  “I’ve never rejected you.” He’d been protecting her.

  “You’ve been doing so ever since the spring ball when I was seventeen.” Her voice was thin, delicate as glass. Just as easily broken. “I should be used to it. But it hurts now more than ever before.”

  And turning away from his feelings for this unique woman was more impossible now than ever before.

  “Meredith—”

  “I love you, Pierce.”

  His words jammed in his throat.

  “Maybe I’ve loved you since I hit my thumb with a hammer at that summer camp and you dashed me off to the kitchen to stick it under cold water.” Her lips curved sadly. “I can’t pretend that I don’t anymore. I just don’t have that much strength right now.” She picked up her little purse and started for the door.

  “Stay.”

  Her shoulders bowed a little. “Why?” Her voice was raw.

  He felt raw, too. “Because I’m not strong enough, either.”

  She slowly turned to face him. Her arms were wrapped about her middle. As if she need protection. From him. When the only thing he’d ever tried to do in his life was protect her. Protect her family. “You’re the strongest man I know,” she said huskily.

  “If that were true—” he reached her in three long steps “—I wouldn’t be doing this.”

  Meredith gasped when he swung her into his arms and strode down the wide hallway, turning sideways through an open doorway. Her heart climbed into her throat as he set her on her feet and tugged her purse from her numb fingers to toss it aside. She wasn’t frightened of him. Never that.

  But of the feelings swelling out of control inside her? “I don’t want to disappoint you.” The words tumbled out of her lips.

  His eyes were pure silver as they roved over her. She started, when he settled his hands over her shoulders, his thumbs gliding along the jewel neckline of her sage jacket. “Never,” he soothed. His thumbs drifted up her throat, lifting her chin. His head lowered, and all she could see was him. “Never,” he said again, closing his mouth over hers.

  Sipping. Sensitizing.

  Urging her lips apart, going deeper.

  Seducing. Slaking.

  His hands left her shoulders. Slid over her back. Gathering. Urging.

  Her head fell back, her legs unsteady. The only thing keeping her upright was him. He took her weight, molding her willing curves against him, making her revel in being female where he was male. Soft where he was not.

  Then the backs of her knees were against his wide bed, and his fingers were slowly sliding the top button of her jacket free. And the next. She couldn’t speak to save her soul. Only feel his knuckles brushing against her breasts as he slowly finished unfastening her jacket and slid it from her shoulders.

  She sank her teeth into her lip when his hands went to her shoulders, slipping deliberately beneath the thin spaghetti straps of her pale green camisole. He noticed, bending his head, smoothing his lips over hers in the faintest of caresses. “Don’t be frightened.”

  Her fingers curled into his sleeves. “I’m not,” she whispered. She was dizzy with want, fairly desperate to be next to him. Skin to skin. To be with him. “I think you’re making me insane.”

  His lips curved against hers. “Good.” The delicate straps slid down her shoulders. Silk slithered, pooling about her waist, caught by the narrow waistband of her linen slacks. His gaze burned over her. And her skin felt hot, too tight.

  “I can see your heart beating,” he murmured. “Here.” His warm palm slid down her throat to the valley between her breasts. She shuddered. “And he
re.” His hand glided, covering her. Shaping her. “So beautiful. Like a dream.”

  His thumb slid over the achingly taut nipple, and pleasure raced through her. Rampant. Uncontrolled. “If it’s a dream, I don’t want to wake.”

  Trembling wildly, she tugged at his uniform. Pulled it free of his narrow leather belt when her shaking fingers couldn’t manage but a few of the buttons. Thrust her hands beneath, skimming over his ribs, sliding up the hard, very real length of his back. Luxuriating in the feel of his flesh, warm satin over steel. “And I don’t want to wait,” she said on a low moan when he pressed his mouth to her shoulder.

  “Heaven forbid the Princess should have to wait,” he murmured, his gaze catching hers before he dipped his head and tasted the tight peak his fingers had been tormenting.

  Her knees gave way, but he was there, always there, holding her. Catching her. Guiding her to the expanse of his bed where he leaned over her, so broad, so beautiful. She reached for him, but he caught her hands, gently shackling both with one of his.

  As if he’d been doing it all his life, he found the hidden zip at her hip, and his palm slid over her waist. Slid beneath the linen, pressing flat against her abdomen, murmuring softly, gentling, when she jerked.

  Her legs shifted, restless. Her fingers flexed, needing. His name was a demanding sigh on her lips, and he laughed, low and husky, setting a new flurry of shivers skipping down her spine.

  “Good things come to those who wait.” His voice was barely a whisper in her ear.

  She arched, slid her knee along his hips, thrilling to the way he sucked in a harsh breath and settled his weight over her ever so briefly. Far too briefly. He levered himself off the bed, releasing her wrists, yanking his shirt off and tossing it aside.

  Her teeth sank into her lip again as he bent over her feet, sliding the strappy high-heeled sandals free. Then, in one smooth motion that left her reeling, he dispatched her slacks, silk panties and the camisole. Then, holding her gaze with his, he undid his belt.

  And Meredith forgot how to breathe as he finished undressing with that economy of movement that was so much a part of him.

  His lips twitched a little, and he knelt on the mattress, leaning over her. Threaded his fingers through her hair and spread it out. “Close your mouth, Meredith.”

  A flush burned through her, and her mouth snapped shut.

  His eyes crinkled, and he kissed her gently. So gently that she would have fallen in love with him right then if she hadn’t already done so over the span of years since she’d known him. She settled her hands on his chest, knowing it was her that made his muscles jump and his eyes narrow, his gaze going ever more fierce with want.

  She pulled at his shoulders. “Come closer,” she begged. And nearly cried out again when he complied, his strong legs tangling with hers. Letting her feel him, but not nearly enough. She ached for him, and there was only one way to assuage that. “Now,” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Please, Pierce, I can’t bear it.”

  Still he held off. Tantalizing her. Tormenting her. Until she was ready to scream with it, and then, only then, when her senses were already a conflagration, did he slowly press into her.

  Holding her gaze with his, fingers threaded through hers, he made her whole.

  Tears streaked down her temple, and she kissed him, blindly following where he went, uncaring of the result, only knowing that she’d been made for this. With him.

  Then he turned, pulling her over him, his hands on her hips, thrusting deep, letting her find the motion. Eyes glittering as she gasped, overwrought senses hovering on explosion. He arched up, his long arms like bands around her back, his hands tangling in the long waves of her hair. Her head fell back, and his mouth burned over the long line of her throat.

  She curled her arms around his hot shoulders, feeling him right down to her soul. She shuddered wildly, gasping for breath, for sanity, for—

  She cried out, her body splintering. Barely aware of his harsh groan, barely aware of anything except the mindless pleasure exploding through them both as he took her, impossibly, even further.

  And then she couldn’t think at all.

  Dawn was breaking, the cool gray light drifting over the bed when Meredith opened her eyes, aware that Pierce had left the bed moments before.

  Tugging the first thing her hand encountered—his uniform shirt—around her, she slipped from the bed that they’d fairly destroyed over the night and padded silently to the living room.

  She found him in the kitchen, phone at his ear. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans, but he wore nothing else, and for a moment, she could only stand there and absorb the sight of him. From his broadly roped shoulders to his strong back. Unable to resist, she snuck forward, feathering her fingertips over the small of his back where she’d learned he was ticklish.

  He jerked, turning around, and cupped his hand over the receiver. “Hey. I thought you were sleeping.”

  She smiled at him in the thin light, slipping her hand over his hard chest, loving the feel of the soft crinkle of hair sprinkled across it. “Not anymore.”

  He tugged at the collar of the shirt she wore, then dipped his finger down her throat, into the valley between her breasts. “My uniform never looked so good.”

  She lifted her eyebrow and turned on her heel. “So, what are you doing on the phone, then?” she asked, as she headed back to his bed.

  Pierce half laughed, half groaned as he watched her saunter from the kitchen. She was incredible. And sooner rather than later, he’d have to put a stop to what they’d begun. The reasons he’d kept her at bay all these years still existed.

  Sobered, he lifted the phone again. “We’ve got to tell her.” He picked up the brief conversation he’d been having with Monteque as if Meredith hadn’t just come by and set that gnawing need alive inside him again. “I don’t care what we’ve already discussed. She has to know. Either we do it, planned, or I do it unplanned. This has gone on too long, already.”

  “I know. Dammit, I know.” Monteque’s frustration carried through the phone, and Pierce understood it only too well. “Fine. Estabon should be the one to tell her. It’ll be easier coming from him. I’ll get with him about it. He can do it this morning.”

  Satisfied, Pierce concluded the call and headed to his bedroom. His conscience wasn’t relieved completely. But it was one less lie that he took with him into his bed where the woman he’d loved for years waited.

  He stood in the doorway, the sight of her—hair streaming over his pillow, her eyes dark in the silvery dawn—filling up the empty spaces inside him so easily, so thoroughly, that it was difficult to remember the reasons this was ultimately wrong.

  Then she propped herself up on her elbow, murmuring his name. She flipped back the sheet, keeping one corner of it modestly about her. “Come back to bed. There are more good things waiting.” Her voice was hushed. Impossibly sexy and irresistibly shy.

  Could he resist? All night she’d been in his arms. They’d slept only to awaken and make love again. And again. He strode over to the bed, shucking his jeans as he went, and joined her. She slid over to him as if she’d spent a lifetime sharing the space beside him. And for a long moment, he let himself dream of impossible possibilities.

  Meredith sighed contentedly. It wasn’t often Pierce seemed thoroughly relaxed. But now he did. His fingers lazily combed through her hair, lifting it from her neck, smoothing it down her back. It was soothing and arousing and irresistible. “I may never move again, you know.”

  A soundless chuckle worked through him. “A little worn out?” He probably should be sorry. She’d been a virgin, and they’d relentlessly made love all night long. She had to be feeling the effects.

  “I never dreamed there were so many good things.” Her voice was almost demure and gave no hint that she needed or even wanted the slightest reprieve.

  “I never dreamed you’d ever be here like this. It’s a wonder you haven’t given me a heart attack.”

  She pres
sed her lips to his shoulder. “You’re in perfect shape and you know it.”

  He rolled over, tumbling her onto her back. “You have the perfect shape,” he countered with a wry groan. “I’ve always thought so.”

  She swallowed, her bones still liquid, and caught his hands when they covered her breasts. “I have a breakfast meeting with the head of PR for the institute.”

  “Cancel it.”

  She laughed. Groaned. Sighed. Wriggled around him until he was the one flat on his back and she was hovering over him, her hair a curtain around them. “I can’t. Duty, you know.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  Laughter bubbled from her throat, and joy seemed to fill her. “Only five?”

  “Ten. Twenty. Sixty.” His hands surrounded her waist, and he pushed against her. “You’re going to leave me in this state?”

  Her giggle turned to a moan as desire rushed through her. She slid down, taking him in. Catching her breath at the way he filled her. Luxuriating in the way his grin turned wicked and his eyes went hot. “Five,” she whispered, breathlessly. “Then I’ve got to get a shower and head back to Marlestone. Goodness knows what happened to Bobby all night, I never—”

  “Meredith.” He dragged her mouth to his. “’Tis no time for chatter.”

  She laughed softly.

  And then there was no laughter all.

  Only love, as the room slowly grew brighter, and the two found heaven.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marissa took a final look at herself in the long mirror. It was foolish, of course, to be so nervous about having an appointment with her own husband. She’d been married to Morgan for thirty-five years, after all. Surely long enough not to feel a need to powder her nose and primp her hair.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Yes, Gwen?” She glanced over her shoulder at her friend. “Does this color make me look washed out?”

  Lady Gwen tried to hide a smile but failed. “Royal-blue for Her Majesty, the Queen?”

  “It’s too obvious.”

  “Of course it isn’t. The color suits you extremely well, which you surely know by now. I thought there might be something you should know, before your appointment with His Majesty.”