by Grace Burrowes, Shana Galen, Miranda Neville, Carolyn Jewel
“I see that you do. Good.” She rose to her knees and gave him her back. “Unfasten me, will you?”
His hands fumbled at the hooks and eyes, the ties and knots, the pins and tapes. Finally, he had her out of the outer layers of clothing, and she stood in her shift.
“I don’t think anyone will come this way,” he said, “but I cannot be certain.”
“Then I suppose I had better not stand about all day.”
With a flick of her finger at the knot at her neck, the chemise came loose and slid down her body. He followed its progress hungrily. The material uncovered ripe, full breasts tipped with dark, erect nipples, a slim waist, lush hips, and plump thighs.
“You take my breath away,” he whispered.
“Good.” She turned and walked to the edge of the pond, her derriere as round and perfect as the rest of her. She dipped a toe in the water, let out a little shriek, then moved resolutely forward.
Finally, she’d submerged herself to just below her breasts. She turned to him, giving him a view he could have enjoyed all day.
“It’s not so cold, especially once you get used to it. What are you waiting for, Duke?”
“Nothing.”
He stripped off his neckcloth and pulled at his boots.
“Do hurry, Your Grace. I’m naked and wet and cold. I need you to warm me.”
“I am hurrying, Your Highness. I haven’t any aid, as you did.”
Finally, he was as naked as she, and painfully aroused as she watched him approach.
“I should hate you,” she said.
He paused, one foot in the water.
“You are the most perfect man I have ever seen. You could at least have a scar or a withered arm or some such thing to even out the face. But, no. You could be a Michelangelo.”
The water was not cold, and he forced himself not to look overeager to reach her. “You act as though that is a bad thing.”
He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. Her warm body was slippery and slick.
“You might have been a Botticelli,” he said, kissing her neck. “You’re lush and soft and—”
She wrapped her legs around him, and he blew out a breath.
“And?” she prompted.
“I can’t think.”
“Then don’t.”
Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he slid inside her quickly and more roughly than he’d intended. She didn’t complain, only tightened around him and kissed him more deeply.
His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her harder against him and angling her until she slid up and down in a way he knew would give her the greatest pleasure. Her eyes widened after his first few thrusts, and her breath quickened.
“You’re quite good at this,” she gasped as he drove into her again.
“I suppose”—he clenched his jaw and attempted to maintain control—“you will hold that against me as well.”
“Not at all. This—” She shuddered and clenched around him. “For this, I can forgive anything.”
“Even my face?”
“Even that.”
He couldn’t hold on any longer, and he thrust hard into her, hoping it would be enough to bring her to climax. He felt her muscles clamp around him, and the satisfaction of knowing he’d brought her pleasure again was almost as good as his own release.
Almost.
Because, when they finally climbed out of the water and lay spent and sated in each other’s arms, Nathan felt the one thing he had never felt with any woman ever before: certainty.
Chapter Seven
‡
Vivienne would have been content to lie in Nathan’s arms all day if her flesh hadn’t started to resemble that of a plucked goose.
“You’re shivering,” he said, and his words alone thawed her. He noticed everything about her, wanted to keep her warm and safe.
“I don’t mind. I like it here with you.”
“I like it too, but I did say I have something to show you.”
She rose on her elbow, faced him. “There’s more?” Her gaze slid down his body—his absolutely perfect body—and the color rose in his cheeks. He was so adorable. She wanted to have him again.
“Dress, and I’ll show you.”
It was easier said than done, but with his help, the tedious chore was finally accomplished. Her hair was mostly dry, as O’Connell’s excellent coiffure had stayed in place. Vivienne imagined it was a bit lopsided, but she didn’t particularly care. Today was the first time she’d felt any real joy or happiness since the attack on the palace.
It wasn’t only Nathan’s lovemaking either. Being with him made her happy. She’d wakened long before dawn this morning, too excited about the prospect of seeing him to sleep any longer. She hadn’t lied when she’d told him he had a corner of her heart. In truth, she’d been modest. He had captured it whole.
The prospect scared her. Everyone she’d loved was dead. Everyone who’d cared for her was dead, and the men seeking to kill her were still at large. She had no right to involve Nathan in this deadly game of cat and mouse. She had no right to care for him. Caring for him might just mean his death.
They rode back to the house, which looked impressive with the streaks of sunlight breaking through the clouds behind it. Nathan led her to the back, but instead of turning in the direction of the stables, he motioned toward the lawn. In the middle of the long expanse of green bordered by pink and purple flowers, she spotted three targets made of straw and painted with red circles in the middle.
A groom took her mount and handed her down, and she joined Nathan and his butler.
“Duke, I didn’t know you had an interest in archery.”
He smiled, the smile of a man with a secret. “I don’t. I know you do.” He held out a hand, and the butler reached into a sack at his feet. He pulled out a quiver of arrows, followed by a bow, and handed them to Nathan.
“What do you think?” the duke asked.
“Very nice.” She stepped closer to better appreciate the fine craftsmanship of the bow. “May I?” she asked, indicating the arrows.
“Please.”
She lifted one out and nodded approval at the straight line of the shaft and the high quality of the fletching.
“For a man with little interest in archery, this is an extraordinary set.”
“It’s for you.”
She jerked her head up, uncertain she’d heard him correctly. “Me?”
“Yours was…lost. This is a replacement.”
“But this is too much.” She’d never given a second thought to the cost of things before, but since the attack had left her with nothing, she’d begun to think of money more and more. That didn’t stop her hand from curling around the handle of the bow. She itched to try it, to pluck the string to see if it sang.
“Go ahead,” Nathan said. “These targets are for you.”
A thrill of excitement raced through her. Archery had always been one of her favorite pastimes, one at which she excelled. Now she fitted the bow around her hands, took a moment to accustom herself to the weight and the feel of it. Then she pulled an arrow from the quiver and pointed it at the target on her right.
“Not that one,” Nathan said.
She glanced at him over the bow.
“Start on the left.”
Strange request, but she didn’t argue. She shifted until she faced the new target, notched her arrow, and pulled back the string. With a satisfying twang, the arrow soared toward the target, hitting the red center circle just to the left.
“Very good, my lady,” the butler remarked.
Vivienne narrowed her eyes, calculating her error. She squared her shoulders and, facing the center target, pulled another arrow from the quiver. She made a slight modification in how she held the bow and let the arrow soar. It hit the center dead in the middle.
She allowed a small smile to curve her lips.
“If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace,” the butler said, and started back toward the house. Vivi
enne hardly saw him go. She turned to the last target and positioned the bow, then pulled another arrow from the quiver.
She was aware Nathan stood beside her, feet braced apart and arms crossed over his chest. He shifted slightly, and she had a moment to wonder what he was nervous about before the target consumed her focus.
She narrowed her eyes, pulled the string of the bow back, and let the arrow fly. It made a small ping when it hit.
“I hope I didn’t break the tip,” she said. Without waiting for his answer, she marched across the grass and examined the center of the target.
Something gold glittered in the filtered sunlight. Her arrow had pierced it through.
She pulled the arrow from the straw, and the small circle came with it, balanced precariously on the tip of the arrow. Vivienne’s heart lurched.
It was a ring—a ring with a rather large diamond in the center surrounded by green stones she assumed must be emeralds.
She jerked around, almost bumping into Nathan, who had come to stand beside her. Before she could say a word, he bent to one knee.
“The ring was my mother’s—not her wedding ring. She still wears that. It was a gift from my father on my birth. I always think of you when I see it because of the emeralds. They’re almost as beautiful as your eyes.”
“Does this mean what I think it means?” she asked, her voice shaking. Every part of her shook now—her legs, her belly, her hands.
“I want you to be my wife, my duchess. I know this may seem sudden. You don’t know me very well, but it’s all I’ve wanted for the last eight years. I never forgot you.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she finally managed.
“You could say yes.”
The look in his eyes almost melted her. She could see the love in his face, in the way he looked at her. She’d seen it in the way her father had looked at her mother. But did she feel the same, or were her burgeoning feelings only infatuation or, worse, gratitude for his kindness?
“I…” she began, uncertain what she would say. At the moment, her English all but eluded her.
He held up a hand. “Or you could tell me you need more time.”
When she didn’t answer, he winced. “Or you could tell me no.” He rose slowly, brushing the grass from his breeches.
She took his hand, looked up and into his eyes, bluer even than the sky on this cloudy day.
“The answer is most definitely not no.” She pressed the ring into his palm. “But it’s not yes either. Keep this for me? I hope when I am ready, you will offer it again?”
“Of course.” He stepped back, pocketing the ring in his waistcoat. The air around him was formal now, and how she wished she could bring back the easy mood of their morning.
“Thank you for the bow and arrows. I would say you have no idea how much it means to me, but it occurs to me that perhaps you do understand.”
“I do,” he said, and the answer seemed to encompass more than her thanks for the archery set. “Stay and practice as long as you like. I have some business to attend to.”
“Oh.” She had hoped they might spend more time together. “Will I see you at dinner?”
“Of course. And I’ve asked one of the maids to take your measurements. The housekeeper assures me she’s an adequate seamstress. Perhaps in a few days, you will have several more gowns. Tell the maid what fabrics you like, and they will be ordered from the town or from London, if they are not available here.”
“You are too generous.”
“I have more money than I can spend. A few dresses and an archery set are hardly largesse. And, as I said, I’m not entirely unselfish. I want you to fall in love with me.”
With those words, he bowed and started back toward the house.
“Nathan,” she called after him.
He paused and turned back to face her.
“I’m falling.”
*
The next days were filled with pleasant morning rides and scintillating dinners. Vivienne was all Nathan could want in a woman and more. He’d vowed not to take her again until after she’d agreed to be his wife, but he could hardly resist when, laughing, she pulled him into an empty stall in the stable, or when she opened her bedchamber door at night and tugged him inside.
She was passionate, witty, energetic, and diverting. He’d never enjoyed himself as much as he did when he was with her. He’d never laughed so much, talked so much, craved someone’s touch so much.
It wasn’t only her touch. Just the act of seeing her or hearing her voice made his heart swell and lift.
Since the day of the proposal, he had not brought up marriage again. She knew his desires, and she would give him an answer when she was ready. In the meantime, he began to look for a response to his request from the Prince Regent. She didn’t ask directly if he’d received an answer, but he often saw a hopeful look in her eyes. He shook his head when she raised her brows in question, and they waited.
One morning, about a week after the proposal, the two of them were met by Mr. Husselbee as they walked back to the house.
“Your Grace.” He gave a bow. “My lady.” Another bow. “I trust there have been no more signs of vagrants in the area.”
“None,” Nathan answered. “Did you catch the men?”
“No. I tracked them to the edge of the property and lost the trail. I think they must be long gone and someone else’s problem now. The Holland family has returned and reported nothing in their house or shed was disrupted.”
“Very good.”
Vivienne touched his arm. “I will leave you gentlemen to discuss crops and farms and livestock. Excuse me.”
Nathan watched her go, then asked Husselbee to join him in the library.
Husselbee sat in the chair across from Nathan’s desk and elaborated on the condition of the estate. Finally, he took a breath, let it out, then took another.
“Is something troubling you, Mr. Husselbee?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’m not certain how to proceed. You see, ever since one of the maids ordered those fine fabrics from the town, there’s been talk. Who are such fine fabrics for? I don’t blame the girl, Your Grace. She didn’t say anything to set tongues wagging, but you know how people are.”
“Can’t we say they are for my mother?”
“Not in the proportions ordered, Your Grace. Your mother is tall and, er, ample compared to Lady Vivienne.”
“I see.”
“And there’s more talk, Your Grace. Usually when you are in residence, you host some of the local gentry for dinner or a garden party. No one has been invited to visit, and you’ve been here almost a fortnight.”
“I understand, Husselbee. Unfortunately, I don’t have a solution for you at this time. Lady Vivienne has fallen into some unfortunate circumstances—through no fault of her own—and it is best if we keep her presence here a secret for the time being.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll do my best for as long as I can.”
Nathan knew that couldn’t be for much longer.
He went to sleep late. He’d had another engaging dinner with Vivienne, and when she’d hinted she would welcome a visit from him after the servants had gone to bed, he had politely refused.
He wanted a wife, not a mistress. Oh, he liked bedding her well enough. She was enthusiastic and imaginative. But he wanted more than bedsport. He wanted a wife, a partner, a mother for his children.
He had thought she would give him an answer by now, and there had been times he had looked at her and seen something in her eyes. He’d held his breath, certain she would ask for the ring again—the ring he kept always in his waistcoat.
But she had not asked, had not declared her love for him, and because she hesitated, so did he. He wanted to hold her in the aftermath of their lovemaking, stroke her hair, and tell her he loved her. But he didn’t dare push her or pressure her to say more than she was willing.
And so he waited far longer than usual to go to bed. He’d dismissed Fletcher so his valet coul
d rest, and Nathan did little more than shed his coat before falling into bed. He didn’t even bother to toe off his boots. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept in his clothes, although it was more comfortable when he was foxed.
Still, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, only coming awake slowly at the pinch in his neck.
He opened his eyes and stared at the man bending over him. “Don’t move, or I’ll slit your throat.”
Nathan didn’t move.
“Good. Now tell me where she is, and we’ll let you live.”
“Where who is?” Nathan croaked.
“Princess Vivienne.”
Chapter Eight
‡
He hadn’t come to her. She’d waited, the lamp burning, her heart thudding, for what seemed hours. At midnight, she realized he wouldn’t come. She could hardly blame him. He wanted an answer to his proposal. He deserved an answer, and she hadn’t given it.
She’d wanted to give it so many times—wanted to tell him yes, yes, yes. She loved him, couldn’t help but love him, despite that too-handsome face and perfect body.
And because she loved him, she had not given him an answer. Because she loved him, she couldn’t bear to put him in danger.
But perhaps the danger was over. The assassins must have given up searching for her by now. They’d be expected back in Glynaven, undoubtedly had superiors to report to. Perhaps she could give Nathan the answer he wanted. The answer she wanted.
And she did not want to wait until the morning.
She climbed out of bed, naked, stumbled over the bow and arrows she’d left by the bed, and found her shift on the Chinese screen. She pulled it on, considered lighting a lamp, and then decided she knew the way to his rooms well enough without it.
The moment she stepped into the corridor, she knew something was amiss. The hair rose on her arms even before she saw the shadow across from his room.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, she dove back into her chamber, closing the door silently and locking it behind her.