The Duke of Desire (The Untouchables Book 4)

by Darcy Burke

  “They shouldn’t be too long. I’ll keep an eye out.” He peered around the shrubs and looked toward where the Travills were hidden.

  “How do you know?” she asked.

  Given Travill’s open fall and the way his hand was lifting the hem of his wife’s dress, West was certain they wouldn’t be enjoying a protracted interlude. “If you recall, I’m very observant.”

  She brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh goodness. Were they…in flagrante delicto?”

  He laughed and had to modulate his volume before he drew attention to their presence. “Not quite.”

  “Then how do you know how long they’ll be? Maybe you ruined the mood.”

  He laughed again, then sobered, looking at her a bit differently all of a sudden. “What do you know of that?”

  She turned her head, but he caught the slight coloring of her cheeks. “Nothing. Just what I’ve heard.”

  Confident she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met, he was eager to spend the afternoon with her. He peeked around the hedge again and saw the Travills making their way toward the house.

  He turned to Miss Breckenridge. “They’re finished.”

  “I’m beginning to think we should be too.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “Why?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know. Because.” She looked as if she might say more but then only added another “because.”

  “That’s a riveting reason, to be sure. I think we should take our walk. It’s not raining, and the view atop Wendover beckons.” He held his arm out for her. “Will you allow me to escort you?”

  She glanced at his sleeve, and her lip twitched as if she’d nibbled the inside. “What if someone sees us? If the Travills were out here, someone else could be too.”

  She had a point, but he wasn’t deterred. “It’s unlikely. And if we do encounter someone, I’ll come up with an excuse. I’m quite good at that.”

  She eyed him warily. “I’m sure you are.”

  “Shall we, then?”

  She tentatively put her hand on his arm. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

  He covered her fingers with his. “I promise you won’t.”

  “Stop promising me things.” She took her hand back. “On second thought, I shouldn’t be touching you. That surely won’t help with any of your possible excuses should we run into anyone.”

  “Fair enough.” He gestured for her to precede him. When she’d moved past him, he let her walk several steps before catching up with her. “And Miss Breckenridge?” She turned her head to look at him, her green eyes bright and intelligent. “I only promise things I know I can deliver.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ivy blinked at him, simultaneously frustrated by and flattered by his flirtation and innuendo. She recalled that Peter had flirted with her, but he’d never been this good. He’d lacked West’s air of sophistication. And something else. West had a sense of joy about him. And she had to admit it was difficult to remain immune.

  “Miss Breckenridge…I just realized I don’t even know your Christian name. How can that be?”

  She was inexplicably amused by this. Perhaps he wasn’t as smooth as she gave him credit for. “Because I haven’t told you. Why would I? It’s not something you generally share with acquaintances.”

  “Well, I should hope we’re beyond that. It seems like I ought to know.” He glanced over at her, and their eyes briefly met. “However, I have the distinct impression you aren’t going to tell me.”

  “Why, when I can make you guess?” Her lips curved up as they reached the path.

  They turned and started uphill. The path was more than wide enough for them to walk side by side and was flanked by woods that went from sparse to dense to sparse again.

  “I think you’re enjoying this,” he said.

  “What gave you that idea?”

  “You’ve smiled more in the past minute than I think in our entire acquaintance.”

  She knew she was particularly sober, but surely he was exaggerating. “Yes, I’m enjoying this. What do you think my name is?”

  He turned his head and looked at her as he walked. She could see his appraisal from the corner of her eye.

  “I can’t decide if it’s something simple or exotic. I could see you having either of those. Or maybe something very feminine and beautiful.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and her flesh began to heat beneath the weight of his perusal. “How can you do that?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Look at me while you’re walking without tripping?”

  “I have many skills.”

  She let out a rather un-feminine laugh. “You are perhaps the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

  “Probably, but I do try, and I like to be successful in all my endeavors.”

  She turned her head and threw him a withering mock glare. “Do you ever stop?”

  “Never.” He looked ahead, tearing his gaze from her. “Is this better?”

  She didn’t answer but focused on their ascent.

  “Mary.”

  Even though her eyes were on the path, Ivy tripped. She didn’t go down, but West lunged for her anyway.

  He caught her around the waist. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She straightened and looked up at him. He was very close. Too close. But she didn’t back away.

  He’d called her Mary. How had he known?

  “You’re wrong. Why did you choose that name?” She shivered and wondered if he felt the slight tremor.

  “You’re a compassionate person, so I believe you must come from a warm and caring upbringing.”

  He was wrong about that too, but she didn’t say so. She pivoted slightly. It was enough to disrupt the physical connection between them, and he released her. “And that’s how you came up with Mary?”

  “I’ve always loved the name Mary. It’s a happy name and very beautiful. It’s also simple and feminine—like you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You think I’m simple?”

  He chuckled. “Not like that. You’re uncomplicated. Most women of my acquaintance are excitable or…difficult in some way.”

  She started up the path once more, and he walked beside her. “Women of your acquaintance,” she repeated. This was a perfect opportunity to ask him about that. “The women you have affairs with?”

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “Why are all your paramours married?”

  “Because I’m helping them have a happier marriage.” He said this matter-of-factly without a trace of irony.

  She nearly tripped again. “How on earth do you do that?”

  “Do you really want to know?” he asked.

  “You like to ask me that question.”

  “I want to be certain you wish to hear what I have to say. Some women—most women—would rather not discuss my past liaisons.”

  She didn’t particularly want to either—she felt a bizarre jealousy but also a perverse curiosity. “How could having an affair possibly improve a marriage?”

  “Because the marriage is either sexless or lacking in a sexual nature.”

  She stopped walking entirely and turned to look at him. “You’re serious?”

  He pivoted toward her. “Quite. I help the lady find her release and show her ways to increase her pleasure, which will, in turn, increase her husband’s. However, the focus is on her. Many men don’t pay attention to the satisfaction of their lover, to their own detriment.”

  Good God. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. The heat in her cheeks indicated her face was probably crimson. And really, he could be describing her experience with Peter. Emotionally, he’d given her nothing and physically, he’d awakened a passion in her that he hadn’t really ever fulfilled, not that she’d realized that at the time. No, she’d been besotted, and he’d used that to serve his own selfish desires.

  She abruptly turned and started walking again, at a faster pace than before. Perhaps
because her mind was moving very quickly trying to make sense of what he’d just told her.

  It was several minutes before either one of them spoke.

  “I shocked you, didn’t I?” he asked, startling her. She’d quite lost herself in memories of the past and…ideas about the present.

  “I want to say no so that you’ll find me sophisticated, but I cannot.”

  “Why do you want me to find you sophisticated?”

  She shot him an irritated glance. He was far too astute. She was—or had been—the opposite. She’d been naïve and stupid and completely inexperienced. When she’d resurrected herself, she’d made a point of striving to be the opposite. She’d hoped she was sophisticated now, but she realized how hopelessly wrong she was.

  “Miss Breckenridge”—he exhaled—“I still don’t know your name—I don’t think any less of you. I’d be surprised if I hadn’t shocked you.”

  They were nearing the top of the hill, and the trees had become quite thin. She could see the summit boasted a large open area.

  “I find that I’m…curious.” There, she’d said it. When he spoke of helping these married women, it almost sounded like an awakening of sorts. And she found herself wondering if he could do that for her. But of course he could. He’d said he could change her life, and now she knew how he purported to do so. “In a sense, it seems as though you offer a service to these women.” Goodness, that almost made him sound like he was in trade. Sexual trade. She looked at him sharply, her pace slowing. “They don’t pay you?”

  “Bloody hell, no.” He looked over at her, his dark eyes glittering in the shadow cast by the brim of his hat. “My apologies, but I do not sell myself.”

  “I meant no offense.” But she could see how he could react that way. “Truly, I didn’t think that was the case. My mind got a bit ahead of me. I’m trying to understand. Why do you help these women?”

  He didn’t immediately respond, and she longed to know why he was hesitating. Was there a truth he wanted to keep buried? She was of course the queen of buried truths.

  He paused at the top. He didn’t look at her. Instead, he surveyed the wide, treeless space. “I determined at a rather young age that I enjoyed sexual activities. I like giving a woman pleasure, and I’m quite good at it.”

  His arrogance was astounding but also seductive, if she were being honest with herself. “Because they all tell you so,” she said, stopping a few feet away.

  He chuckled. “Yes. But they don’t have to.”

  She pivoted, arching her brow. “Are you saying there isn’t one woman who’s left your bed unsatisfied?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” His gaze was unflinching and unapologetic. “I will admit I’ve had a few challenges, but in the end, I win them over.”

  Jealousy flashed through her again. She recalled what she’d overheard on the first day of the house party. “And what of children? Is it true that you’ve fathered several?”

  “I don’t know about several, but there are likely one or two.” His cavalier attitude sparked her anger.

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  He moved toward her but thankfully didn’t come too close. “I have my suspicions, but I don’t get upset about it because no one else does. And by no one else, I mean neither my paramours nor their husbands seem to give a fig.”

  “Society seems to.” It was a silly argument, particularly when Ivy didn’t care what they thought. No, she cared that he didn’t seem to be concerned over someone else raising his child.

  “And why should I bother myself with that?”

  “What about the children?” she asked softly. “Don’t you care about them? Doesn’t it trouble you that they aren’t yours?”

  He didn’t answer. He stared at her and then averted his gaze.

  She strode away from him to look at the view. Stretched out before them was the vale of Aylesbury. She could see the village in the distance, as well as Greensward. There were farms and rolling pastures and neat hedgerows. It was pastoral and serene. Which was rather the opposite of what was going on inside her. She was a jumbled mess of confusion. She ought to run far away from this man, and yet she was completely drawn to him.

  “It’s too bad we don’t have a proper summer day. I imagine a bright blue sky would be marvelous from up here.” He’d come up beside her. Closer than propriety would suggest. She basked in the warmth of his body and inhaled his masculine scent.

  She closed her eyes briefly and simply enjoyed his proximity. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the gray sky and silently agreed with his assessment.

  “I’ve never thought too hard about the children,” he said quietly. “And there’s only one I’m certain of. In fact, I’ve never even admitted that aloud. I know he’s loved and being raised well. I can’t find fault with that.”

  “Nor does it prevent you from stopping your…activities.”

  “I like helping people.” His tone was soft and simple. It curled into her with warmth and consideration. “And I like sex. Is that so bad?”

  She turned toward him and edged back a half step. She wasn’t going to run, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t put some much-needed space between them. “Don’t the husbands mind your…involvement?”

  “Some do, yes. We endeavor to be discreet.”

  “And yet your affairs are legendary.”

  “Legendary? Don’t you think that’s a bit of an exaggeration?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps.” A breeze rustled her skirt and the ribbons of her bonnet. “How would you feel if someone were to seduce your wife?”

  “First of all, it’s not a seduction. It’s a mutually sought after arrangement.” He turned from her and looked out over the vale. “Second, I don’t have a wife.”

  “And why is that?” she asked, finding him more intriguing by the moment. “Isn’t it your duty to provide an heir?”

  He kept his attention on the view. “I have an heir. A cousin somewhere in Norfolk.”

  “So you have no plans to marry?”

  He turned his head toward her, his expression bland. “That’s correct. I do not.”

  She wanted to ask why but decided against it. Asking too many questions might give him the idea to ask her too many questions. And she had no intention of answering any.

  “I suppose we should head back down,” she said, turning. “We don’t want to be gone overly long.”

  He joined her, and they walked back to the path. “Is this all you intend? You gave me a chance to change your life. If I wasn’t clear before, let me be now. I’d like to do for you what I’ve done for other women.”

  She tipped her head to throw him a saucy glance. “But I’m not married, nor will I ever be.”

  “Never? What’s to say you won’t?”

  “You’re familiar with my standing, I presume? There are very few gentlemen who would be interested in a companion with nothing to offer.”

  His gaze lingered on her as they started down the path. “I think you have plenty to offer. You don’t seem to realize you’re very beautiful. Which is only one of the many things I find attractive about you.”

  She jerked her attention from him and focused on the trail in front of her before she tripped and fell to the bottom of the hill. After a minute, she blurted one of the many thoughts racing through her mind. “What would you do? With me, I mean.”

  “You want specifics?”

  She gave a subtle nod, but had no idea if he was even looking at her. She couldn’t bring herself to so much as peek in his direction.

  “To start, I would touch your face. I want to know if your skin is as soft as it looks, if your lips are as silky as I imagine.”

  Her body vaulted into an awareness she hadn’t felt in a decade.

  “Next, I would kiss you. Gently—letting our lips meet each other and conduct a sort of courtship, if you will.”

  He made it sound lovely. She remembered hunger and insistence and wetness. Peter had liked to use h
is tongue. It hadn’t been bad, just different from what West described. And of course, with Peter, she’d had nothing to compare him to.

  Stop it. She refused to think of the past.

  “Once we were both satisfied that we were comfortable and ready, I would run my tongue along your lower lip, gently. And if you invited me, I would slide my tongue into your mouth, in search of yours. Then, when they met, they would enjoy a courtship of their own.”

  Tongues. But this didn’t sound like what she’d experienced either. Heat gathered in her belly and set her body aflame. She still didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

  “I would kiss you for some time, I think. We would explore each other until we were breathless. All the while, I’d hold you, of course. My hands and fingers would carefully traverse your neck and back, your waist and sides. Then, as our desire built, I would find your breasts, cupping them. I imagine they would fill my hands rather nicely.”

  “Am I, er, still garbed?” Her voice sounded high and strange, and she immediately wanted to take the question back. He could doubtless hear the effect he was having on her. By simply talking!

  “For now, yes. We have to start at the beginning, don’t we?”

  She’d never been undressed with Peter. Part of her wanted that. She longed to feel another man’s—West’s, she realized—nude body against hers. That was because she was a wanton, just as her mother and father said. Guilt and shame threatened to send her running down the hillside. But she clung to the feelings West had reawakened. She didn’t want the darkness. Right now, for just a short time, she wanted to embrace the light.

  “As I was saying,” he continued, “I would cup your breasts and lightly massage them. I’d seek out the tips and use my fingers until they grew stiff.”

  Her nipples were already in that state. Her clothing had never felt so uncomfortably tight.

  “Depending on your garment, I might be able to slip my hand inside and stroke your bare flesh. I’d close my eyes in ecstasy because you would feel so warm and soft and perfect.”

  Ivy tingled everywhere. She veered off the trail and leaned her hand against the thick trunk of a tree to gather her wits and regain her breath. Though they were going downhill, she felt as if she were going up.