He stepped back, taking in her long limbs, the curve of her waist, the high breasts, each one just large enough for his hand. “Do you know what an erotic vision you are?” he asked softly. “So beautiful.”
Color rose in her cheeks as he came forward again and bent to his knees to remove the ribbons that held up her stockings and slowly rolled each stocking down her slender legs, his fingertips stroking her warm skin, his palms cupping the backs of her calves.
When the second stocking rolled past her knee, he saw it. The little scar from the scratch the blackberry bush had given her all those years ago. He pressed his lips to it, closing his eyes, remembering that day, how brave and sweet she’d been, even with deep scratches all over her. Her big blue eyes had roused his protective senses more than anything, made him want to take her home and make sure she was taken care of.
Slowly, he drew away and looked up at her, seeing the memory of that day in her eyes, too.
“Hold my shoulders,” he commanded as he lifted her foot, removed her shoe, and finished rolling her stocking off. He felt the gentle pressure of her hands on him as he took off the other shoe and stocking in the same manner.
Now she was naked. Still in a crouch, he looked up at her again. She was gazing down at him, and now her blue eyes were full of heat.
She narrowed her eyes and shook her head slowly from side to side. “This is hardly fair.”
“Oh?”
“I am completely naked.”
“Oh yes, you are,” he said, his voice saturated with pure male satisfaction.
“And you are fully clothed.”
He looked down at himself. “So I am.”
“I insist you join me in nakedness. At once.”
He grinned up at her. “Demanding now, are you, little wife?”
“Not demanding,” she said, “just willing to make a stand for justice.”
“Then we shall have to remedy this atrocious wrong,” he said.
He rose from his crouch, but he took his time, kissing the insides of her thighs, her mound, her hips, and her stomach where their child grew. He lingered there, thinking of her with his baby in her arms. He knew she’d be no Georgina Stanley – he’d had the distinct sensation that Georgina had intended to stow away their children in the nursery like most aristocratic mothers tended to do. Sarah would be as loving and attentive as his own mother had been. More so, because Simon would make damn sure she wouldn’t have to bear any of the pain his mother had suffered from her and his father’s infidelities.
“There is no one in the world more suited to be the mother of my child,” he murmured.
He rose to his full height and discarded his clothes in short order. She watched him, her eyes dark with desire… and with love.
He went into the hot water first and pulled her in after him, settling her on his lap facing away from him, where he used one of the soft cloths covered with lavender-scented soap to bathe her, knowing that even lavender couldn’t cover her innate fresh, sweet scent. Or taste.
He paid special attention to bathing the area between her legs, touching the tiny peak above her entrance with soft but sure strokes, knowing how wild it made her when he touched her there. She writhed, making ripples in the water as she gasped, “Simon!”
With his arms wrapped around her hips, he worked her with two hands. With one, he continued to stroke her with the cloth. Using the other, he parted her folds and slid two fingers inside her, feeling the slickness of her arousal despite the water that washed around her.
He was still learning her body – would be learning it forever, he knew. His own arousal, nestled between the cheeks of her bottom, was tight and throbbing, aching to fill her, to take her again.
He stroked the outer nub as he slid his fingers into her, through her folds, back inside again, moving his fingertips against her inner walls. He played her like a violin, until she was thrumming with pleasure, gasping with it, flushed with it. And then she came, her back arching, her body convulsing around him. He kept her still in the water with his arms tight around her body and felt every shudder, every contraction, as she moaned her release.
She came down from it, slumping back against him, her hands stroking the outsides of his thighs as the remnants of her orgasm shuddered through her. When she was finished, relaxing completely against his chest, he murmured into her hair, “We’re not finished yet.”
“Mmm,” she said.
With a low laugh, he turned her around, lifting her and adjusting her until she straddled his body over his thighs. She looked down at him, at his arousal, and gave him the wickedest erotic smile he’d ever seen. Somewhere in the water she found the cloth he’d used to pleasure her, and she took her time to cover every inch of it with copious suds.
He looked askance at her. “What are you planning to do with that, love?”
She didn’t answer but laid the cloth out so it covered her hand and then plunged both her hands into the water to take his cock into her grip.
He was already so hard, so hot. She felt it, too, her eyes widening at the hardness, at the seeming impossible length of it.
And then, she began to stroke him.
With a low groan, he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub. Heat rushed through him, starting from her hands and licking up through his torso and out through his limbs. He thrust into her grip, a purely instinctual move his body couldn’t control. And then his ballocks tightened, and he felt the bloom of pressure at the base of his spine that told him he was close to exploding.
With a swift movement, he thrust her hands away from him. Her eyes widened, but before she had a chance to say anything, he hauled her forward with one arm, lifting her so he could position his cock beneath her entrance. He found the notch of her sex and wedged his cockhead into it, grunting a little at the exquisite pleasure of that most sensitive part of him stroking her hot folds.
He grasped her hips and pressed her down over him.
Both their breaths released in a harsh rush. She froze. He froze. They stared at each other.
Then, she began to ride him. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his shoulders for leverage, and with long, slow drags, she raised and lowered herself over him again and again. He kept his hands on her hips, guiding her, his fingertips kneading the tops of her buttock cheeks.
Now the water did splash over the edge of the tub, but Simon couldn’t bring himself to care as Sarah bent forward to take his mouth. Her lips met his in a kiss that took his breath, and his awareness of his surroundings. There was only Sarah now. The sweetness of her enveloping him, covering him, bringing every part of him to levels of pleasure he hadn’t known existed before she’d come into his life.
The pressure at the base of his back returned, this time a thousand percent more powerful than the last. It grew and tightened, a ball of roiling lust and love that centered around the woman in his arms, who loved Simon just as intensely as he loved her.
When he came, it poured from every physical part of him, and also from his heart and soul, his body wrenching in pleasure and release.
She collapsed over him, wrapping her arms tight around him, her cheek pressed to the side of his head. He gathered her tight against him, both of them trembling.
“I love you, Simon,” she said, her breath a tickle against his earlobe. “I love you so much.”
He buried his face in her hair and held her close, never wanting to let go.
It was two hours later when they came downstairs, Simon shaved and dressed in perfect, unwrinkled fashion by Burton, and Sarah dressed in one of her London dinner gowns, her hair done elegantly by one of the maids, who’d gushed to her the whole time about how wonderful and romantic it was that she’d captured His Grace’s heart.
She glanced over at him and felt the warm wash of his love. It was unavoidable – just from looking at him one could tell that he loved her. He made it clear to everyone that she had been charged with the care and keeping of his heart. He either couldn’t hide
it or didn’t care to. Either way, it strengthened her, made her feel confident and… complete. She’d always wanted Simon, but she’d pushed that love for him into a corner of her heart, never even allowing herself to dream of one day being his wife.
“Come with me into the library for a moment,” he told her, and she followed him into the dim room.
He went to the desk and unlocked it, pulling something from the drawer before straightening. “Give me your left hand.”
She reached her hand out to him and watched as he slid the ring they found in the dower house onto her finger.
“But it’s your mother’s —” His fingers pressed over her lips, stopping her protest.
“This ring belongs to the Duchess of Trent. First my grandmother, then my mother. It was meant to be my bride’s next. I know that wherever she is, she would want you to have this.”
He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the ring on her finger. Then he let her go, and she felt the weight of the diamond-encrusted gold.
“I’ll wear it until we find her,” she said, “and if she wants it back —”
“She won’t.” Smiling, Simon enfolded her hand in his. “Let’s go to dinner.”
They walked into the parlor, and Sarah’s heart brimmed as she looked at her family. She’d always secretly considered the Hawkins family hers, but now it was no secret. They were legally hers. And she adored each and every one of them.
Simon fetched them plates and went to the sideboard, where she pointed at various dishes and he filled their plates. And then they joined the family, sitting on the silk sofa – the same sofa the duchess had asked Sarah to sit upon so many years ago, when she was dirty and bleeding from the blackberry bush. This was the very room where she’d met all of them that day so long ago. This was the room where she’d discovered the identity of the boy who’d saved her.
She smiled at Simon as he handed her a plate, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.
It was Sam who spoke first. “The Stanleys are gone.”
Simon nodded. “I expected they’d go.”
“Ah, but I’d wager you didn’t expect the manner in which they departed,” Luke said with a chuckle. He raised his glass of wine and took a healthy swallow.
“What do you mean?” Simon asked.
The brothers exchanged looks, and Sarah’s heart began to pound. Slowly, she lowered her fork to her plate.
“Well, who wants to be the one to break the news to him?” Luke asked, glancing around. When no one answered him, he said, “Me? Oh, very well.” Shrugging, he turned back to Simon. “The day after you ran off to Scotland,” he said, “so did Miss Georgina Stanley. With the Duke of Dunsberg.”
“What?” Sarah gasped.
“That’s right. Seems she was so intent on becoming a duchess, it didn’t matter which duke she attached herself to. So she grabbed the first one that came along. Dunsberg called the afternoon you left, Trent, when all in the house was still in quite the uproar, and I expect she poured her poor broken heart out to him.”
“What did her parents do when they found out?” Simon asked.
“Absolutely nothing,” Mark said cheerfully.
“They wanted their daughter to be a duchess, and when she succeeded, they had no complaints,” Luke said.
“But she didn’t succeed in the way they’d planned!” Sarah exclaimed.
“And they’re not going to like the scandal, surely,” Simon said.
“If anything,” Esme said, and they all turned to her, because it wasn’t like her to speak up when they were in a group, “Georgina will be thrilled by this particular scandal. Imagine… jilted by the Duke of Trent only to fall into the arms of the Duke of Dunsberg. She’ll simply thrive off all the attention she’s bound to receive.”
“I hope Dunsberg knows what he’s got himself into,” Simon said, shaking his head.
Luke waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh, I know Dunsberg. He can manage women. Even one as obnoxiously spoiled as Miss Stanley.”
“I saw them together the night they disappeared,” Mark said. “He seemed, well, quite taken with her.”
Simon gave his brother a contemplative look. “He seemed taken with her even when she was engaged to me. But I don’t think they know each other well.”
Luke shrugged. “Does it matter? He is a duke. She wanted to be a duchess.”
“And for Dunsberg’s part,” Sam said, “how could a forty-nine-year-old man resist the wiles of a twenty-year-old beauty proclaiming her undying love?”
Mark gave Sarah a blinding grin. “Well, let Dunsberg have her, I say. I’m much more pleased to have Sarah as my sister-in-law.”
“Always thought of you as my sister when I was a boy,” Theo said. “And I have to say, I always found it a little odd to think of you as a housemaid. Even Esme’s companion. Now…” He shrugged and said simply, “it feels right.”
She gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Theo. Call me Theo.”
Her smile widened. “Theo. I admit to being apprehensive about your reactions, but I am…” She took a deep breath and tried to control her roiling feelings. “I am so glad you have accepted me.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Luke said, “this is the first time my brother has shown sense in a long while.”
“Do you think so?” Simon asked.
“Of course.”
Simon’s thumbs moved in small circles over the edge of his wine glass. “It’s just that Stanley still intends to reveal your parentage, Luke.” He looked at Esme, realizing that she might not know about any of this. “Did they tell you?”
She gave him a solemn nod. “Yes. The night you left.”
“Good. The fact is, we all need to come to a decision about how we’re going to manage the repercussions of Stanley spreading his bile to the world.”
Sam, who’d been leaning against the mantel, pushed off and stepped forward, holding out what looked like two sheets of parchment in his hand. “You have received a few letters, Trent.”
“I’m sure I have many —”
“You’ll wish to read these,” Sam interrupted, “immediately.”
With a bemused look, Simon took the two folded pieces of stationery. He read the first one in silence and then handed it to Sarah.
Trent,
I am leaving this wretched place and finally marrying the duke who deserves me.
If you, or anyone in your family, ever mentions the existence of the idiot Bertram Smith, and his link to my family, I shall bring down the wrath of the entire Dukedom of Dunsberg against you. Mark my words, Trent. You do not wish to trifle with me.
Good-bye, and may we never see each other again for the remainder of our days on Earth,
Georgina Stanley,
Future Duchess of Dunsberg
“Goodness,” Sarah whispered. “But how did Miss Stanley know you knew about Bertram?”
Simon glanced up at his brothers, who all looked away, except for Luke, who gave him a grin worthy of a Cheshire cat. “Bit of a slip of the tongue, perhaps?”
“Luke,” Simon said warningly.
“What? The lovely Georgina is my half sister, after all. I simply asked her what she thought of our eldest brother. When she looked confused, I clarified I meant our dear brother, Bertram Stanley, the idiot who resides at Bordesley Green.”
“Good God. So not only did you tell her we knew about Bertram, but you also revealed that you were her half brother?” Simon asked.
Luke gave a soft chuckle. “It was fun, really, to see how many shades of green she could turn before she went off crying to her papa.”
“We believe the second letter is a result of that conversation,” Sam said, passing it to Simon.
Simon bent his head to read the second letter, and then, as he had before, he passed it to Sarah.
Trent,
No thanks to you, my wishes for my only daughter have come to fruition, and I am a happy and proud man. Her chose
n duke, though neither as young nor as sound in body as you are, possesses a maturity and sense that I feel certain you never shall.
Regarding the unpleasantness we have discussed in multiple circumstances – I have changed my mind. I think it’s best if society is left in the dark regarding certain people’s parentage.
Therefore, the secret shall remain in my safekeeping. But understand this: it shall only remain safe for as long as you keep the secret regarding the identity of a certain B.S., who resides near Worcester. If, at any time, you reveal that man’s identity, I shall not hesitate to publish the proof I carry with me regarding certain people.
I trust we are in understanding on this issue, but should you have any questions regarding our agreement, I shall remain in London for precisely one month, after which time I will be heading to Hampshire to Dunsberg’s seat for a house party celebrating my daughter’s nuptials. You may contact me in London, but I suggest you do not show your face in Hampshire, for yours will be an unwelcome visage indeed.
Stanley
Sarah looked up from the letter as Simon said, “They think we’ve turned the tables on them. Threatening them with openly revealing Bertram’s identity.”
“But we’re not!” Theo exclaimed.
“No.” Luke shrugged. “But why deny it? To give Stanley leave to blab all over England that he’s my father.” A sour look crossed his face. “No, thank you.”
“Luke is right,” Sam said. “We do as we planned – which is to remain quiet regarding Bertram Stanley, and Stanley will keep quiet, too.”
“It is a reasonable solution.” Simon pinned his three younger brothers with stares, one by one. “But that doesn’t mean the secret is safe. Too many people know it.”
Theo sighed. “In other words, our ‘legitimacy’ is safe for now, but it could be revealed at any time that we’re baseborn.”
Luke gave his youngest brother a scowl. “I take offense to that, Theo. I’m not baseborn.” Giving a negligent shrug, he added lightly, “Just a bastard.”
The Duchess Hunt Page 30