Desperate for a Duke

by Dayna Quince

  “What is it?” She peeked from the door. There was a soft glow from a candle behind her.

  “I didn’t want to frighten you, but we need to speak, preferably in private where we will not be disturbed.”

  Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice. “Fallon? What are you doing here?”

  “Just come with me, Heather.”

  She looked wary, but she left his view and returned in a dressing gown. “I’m not sure there is a place here where we won’t be heard at this time of night.”

  “The master suite is the farthest room from both servants and your family. I know… It may be uncomfortable, but it’s the only place I can think of.”

  She nodded and slipped out of her room. She closed the door softly, and Fallon led the way. They reached the gallery, the walls still empty of paintings. Fallon opened the large doors and waved Heather in. He found candles and matches, and then lit a small fire in the hearth. Heather took a chair by the fireplace and sat, tucking her feet under her gown.

  “I’m sorry I have disturbed you at such an hour, but this couldn’t wait any longer.” He took a seat across from her, watching the firelight dance over her profile. Keeping his distance was best. If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from kissing her.

  “You’ve gone to great lengths to say what you came here to say, so go on.” She didn’t look at him.

  Fallon watched her for a moment longer, his chest aching with the force of his emotions, and his heart beating heavily behind his ribs. He didn’t know where to begin, or even how to begin. His thoughts fought to become orderly. He sat in the high-backed chair, uncomfortably tense and eager to be closer to her. He wasn’t sure he knew the words to convey all that he felt. He took a deep breath, preparing to tell her all the things he wished for her so that she would know he was only thinking of her needs. He opened his mouth. His tongue felt like a stone. He closed it and swallowed then cleared his throat. He tried again, but a thought came to him, and all of a sudden, he knew exactly how he wanted to begin. It was perhaps the single most important thing he would ever say to her.

  “I love you.”

  The words fell into the space between them. The only immediate answer came from the fire as it popped. She still didn’t look at him, but her bottom lip was trembling, and her eyes were shining in the firelight.

  “Heather, I love you. I want you to know that before I say anything else.” He leaned forward in the chair to see her reaction, but it wasn’t enough. He slipped to the floor before her chair. He was on his knees now, but he could see her face completely. She closed her eyes, and a tear made a valiant escape down the curve of her cheek. He reached up with one finger and caught it.

  “All I want is what is best for you. Despite how I feel, I am going to call off the wedding.” The words were much harder to say than he had anticipated. It felt so terribly wrong, like he was missing a limb from his body, and he had no recollection of where it had gone.

  Heather moaned in distress and covered her face, and then she lurched forward and buried her face in his neck. She wept against his hot skin. “No. I don’t accept this.”

  Fallon was struggling to remain in control. He hadn’t shed a tear since he was a boy, but he was perilously close now. “No?”

  Heather pulled away enough to look into his eyes. “I love you.” She emphasized each word. “I won’t let you walk away simply because you’re afraid of scandal. I’m tired of being afraid, Fallon. I’m tired of living this tenuous life based on the opinion of others. None of it matters to me anymore. I want you more than anything.”

  “Heather…” Her name was like gravel across his throat. It took all his restraint to not crush her against him.

  “We will marry with all the pomp and fuss my mother has orchestrated. To hell with Lord Brightly, to hell with anyone who dares to whisper unkindly about us.”

  Fallon halted. “Lord Brightly? Who is Lord Brightly?”

  Heather blinked. “Lord Brightly…the man who is blackmailing us.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Fallon fell back on his haunches. “We’re being blackmailed by a Lord Brightly? Since when?”

  “Since he threatened my mother and I at my cousin’s and told you he’d report it to the papers!”

  A bark of laughter escaped Fallon. “I’ve never met anyone by the name of Lord Brightly. It was Draven and his lawyer who advised me that Mr. Bell could take his case to the papers. Who the devil is Lord Brightly, and why the devil is he blackmailing us?”

  Heather shrunk in her chair. “Fallon…the reason I wrote the duke was because my family was on the brink of ruin.”

  “Yes, your father’s gambling debt. You told me.”

  “But that wasn’t all, you see.”

  He raised an inquisitive brow.

  “We had nothing left. My mother and I were going to have to find work and send Prim to a cousin in America.”

  “But you won’t now. I will protect you, and I will provide for you.”

  “You may not want to after I finish.” She swallowed. “My father… He died by his own hand, and my mother bribed the undertaker to hide it. No one else should know, but Lord Brightly, the man he lost to and accused of cheating, he…” She sobbed. “He knows the truth and means to expose us unless I marry him.”

  Fallen grew very still. He’d never known the desire to kill a man, but right now he wanted to feel his hands around Lord Brightly’s throat. “Oh God, Heather.” He wrapped his arms around her and she slipped off the chair, joining him on the floor. “I’ll never let him have you.”

  “I’m not letting you go, no matter what you say.” She rained kisses over his face and neck.

  “I thought you were angry with me. I thought you were too afraid to admit that you should cry off. Why didn’t you tell me about Lord Brightly?”

  “I was afraid, and then when I was ready to, you had changed so suddenly. You grew distant when we should have gotten closer. We are already a family, and you were just slipping away, preparing to walk away.”

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  “I am stronger with you. Together, no one can hurt us, not even if your father rose from the grave to stop us.”

  Fallon rested his head against her chest and took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “What are we going to do about Lord Brightly?”

  “I want you to let me worry about him from now on. I’ll deal with Lord Brightly and Mr. Bell.”

  “We will handle it together, Fallon. As a family.”

  He kissed her abruptly, roughly, and with such need, it stole her breath. She clung to him tightly, taking needed air through her nose and kissing him back with everything she had in her. She said her peace and he had said his, but he hadn’t said all that he should have. She pushed against his chest and broke the kiss.

  He was panting, his eyes wild with passion. “What is it?”

  “In one week, I am walking down the aisle of St. George’s. Will you be standing there to meet me?”

  “Nothing on this earth can stop me now.” He took her lips again and stood with her in his arms.

  Pure, unadulterated joy bloomed like a wild rose within her, and with it, tears of happiness fell unhindered. He carried her to the bed and set her down. She watched him, mopping her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing robe as he pulled off his jacket and shirt. New feelings awoke inside her. Passion and liquid hot desire pooled low in her belly as she lovingly caressed his bare chest with her eyes. She couldn’t wait to press her bare breasts against him again. She reached for the tie of her robe.

  “No, let me.” His hands replaced hers, slowly opening one side and then the other. She was almost shaking with anticipation as he pulled the robe down to her hips. She wiggled her arms from the sleeves and waited. His hands moved to the tie of her nightgown, slowly unraveling the bow and stretching the drawstring neck loose until it slipped over one shoulder. He stopped to touch that shoulder, his fingers light as
they coasted over the curve and then back to slip under the neckline. She inhaled in excitement. He loosened the neck some more and pulled it down, freeing her other shoulder, and the nightgown fell to her hips.

  His eyes consumed her. She felt burned wherever they touched. He climbed up onto the bed and urged her farther back. She moved out of her gathered clothing and lay back against the pillows completely naked.

  “You are so beautiful,” he expressed with awe. His hand reached up to cup her breast and Heather turned to him. She was eager to be close to him, to feel the fire of desire singing through her veins. He smiled down at her as she nuzzled closer, moving his hand to curve around her hip to her back. She slipped her arms around him, pulling him even closer, sighing with delight as the coarse hairs covering his chest teased her nipples.

  “Don’t stop this time,” she begged. “Whatever happens, we will marry. I will never belong to anyone but you.”

  He turned his face into her neck and breathed deeply. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, little flower.”

  “Take me, Fallon,” she urged.

  He turned his head and caught her lips, kissing her hungrily, using his lips and tongue to convey his need. He clutched her bottom, thrusting his hardness against her.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  He reached between her thighs, tenderly touching her velvet flesh. She was already damp with need, ready for him. He groaned. How could he ever hold back now? There was no going back, she loved him, and he confessed his love to her. Whatever happened now, they would face it together.

  She squirmed against him, her hips bucking and searching for the delicious friction. She knew what she wanted, how glorious the completion felt.

  “Slow down,” he soothed. He dipped his fingers inside her, knowingly exploring and pushing her further this time, readying her. She moaned against his mouth, breaking the kiss to pant against his neck as he tortured her with caresses.

  She was so wet and slick, as ready as she would ever be. He reached for the placket of his breeches, efficiently unbuttoning them and pulling them down over his hips. He wiggled free of them, kicking them off the bed. His erection sprang free, hot and engorged with unspent lust. He lifted her leg over his hip, nudging her wet folds in tormented anticipation. “How much do you know about the act of love?”

  She shook her head in the negative, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. “I know only what you’ve shown me.”

  Fallon bit back an oath and clenched his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to drive into her. He was so erect it was almost painful. “Your body was made for me, Heather, and mine for you. We will fit together like a lock and key. It will hurt at first, but it will go away as long as you are enjoying it. You have to tell me if it hurts too much. Your pleasure is paramount. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, please, Fallon!” she cried.

  He stroked his manhood against her some more, coating himself with her natural lubrication. He teased the entrance of her body, sliding against it first then entering just the slightest. He played this game until he was sweating and nearly shaking with restraint. She was bucking against him, chasing him with her hips.

  “I love you, Heather,” he moaned as he thrust deeper inside her, slowly at first until he met resistance. He pulled out just a little, thrusting again to let her become accustomed to the sensation. He eased his way farther, meeting her maidenhead, forcing it to give just a tad.

  Heather moaned in frustration. “Please, this feels…odd.”

  He almost laughed. “Patience. Now is the time for patience. I’m going to thrust all the way home now. This is the part that will hurt. Are you ready?”

  She nodded agitatedly.

  He pulled back almost all the way, and then flexed his spine. He thrust powerfully, surging through her maidenhead until he was fully seated within her. She squeaked a little and lay motionless beneath him. Fallon held himself still, waiting for her muscles to relax around him.

  “Are you all right?”

  Her face was tense, but she nodded yes.

  “Relax if you can, so I can make it better.”

  She took a deep breath, relaxing her face and hands and then the rest of her body.

  Fallon slowly moved, just enough to stimulate the sensitive nub in the folds of her womanhood. He pulled her legs up around his waist and moved again, this time setting a slow, easy rhythm. She still didn’t move, but neither did she look to be in pain. He kept his pace, rubbing that sensitive nub, using it to reawaken her passion. He bent and kissed her, relieved when her lips responded to his. He put one hand under her buttocks to move her with him. Fallon began to thrust harder and faster, and Heather moved with him. “Oh God, Heather,” he groaned, praying she would find release soon.

  * * *

  Heather picked up the rhythm, and her hips answered him. The sting was ebbing, the burning giving way to a pleasant heat. The more she moved, the better it felt. She kissed him back eagerly, the threads of her need roaring to life and the pressure of his groin against hers the only appeasement. The pressure grew as the chase for pleasure eclipsed any discomfort. She was fighting for that fire again, moaning and gasping against his mouth, her body rigid in its search for satisfaction.

  A wave of pleasure crashed over her without warning. She cried out, all of a sudden weak and lethargic. She couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move.

  Fallon followed her over the edge, thrusting one last time as he found release, and spent himself inside her. He collapsed to the side of her, careful not to crush her.

  They both lay there breathing, their huffs and pants the only sound in the room.

  Chapter 26

  Fallon was escorted into an opulent drawing room decorated in red and gold. In the mid-morning light, the colors were tawdry, more suited for a bawdy house than a receiving room. Fallon didn’t know Lord Brightly, but after what Heather had told him, and the impression gleaned from this drawing room, he would have never liked the man. Looking around the room, his eyes touched on suggestive textures like silk and velvet. The furniture was supple and heavily cushioned with more pillows than he’d ever seen.

  Gold snakes wrapped around chair legs, lamp bases, the fireplace poker, and finally, in a large picture above the mantle, a woman smiled at him from a chaise lounge with a large snake wrapped around her body. Fallon grimaced, determining he would rather stand than sit on any of the furniture in the room.

  Heeled boots and a cane on tiled floor heralded the arrival of Lord Brightly. Fallon turned to the door, steeling himself against the urge to snarl and lunge at the man.

  Lord Brightly entered and smiled smugly, bowing to Fallon.

  “Your Grace, what an honor to gain an audience with you this morning. I imagine we have much to discuss.” Lord Brightly sat on an overstuffed chair, and a footman entered with a tray and two glasses. One he handed to Lord Brightly, the other to Fallon. Fallon refused the drink.

  “This won’t take long,” Fallon said.

  “Please sit, Your Grace.” Lord Brightly waved to a gold sofa.

  Fallon shook his head. “I’d rather not.”

  Lord Brightly frowned. “I’m sensing great hesitancy in you.”

  “Your sensing disgust.” Fallon growled.

  Lord Brightly’s face hardened. “Ah, I can only surmise Lady Everly or your intended has filled your head with half-truths. I am not the villain here. As beautiful as Heather is, she is tainted goods—”

  “Watch your tongue, or I may halve it so you can resemble the snakes you are so enamored of.”

  Lord Brightly’s lips clamped shut, and he took a deep breath. He stood, adjusting the cuff of his jacket over the hand that clawed the gold serpent’s head of his ebony cane. His knuckles were white.

  “I see you have as little sense as Lord Everly did. Ruining you will be just as easy.”

  “You could never ruin me or Heather, Lord Brightly. I am a duke. I am virtually untouchable.” Fallon prowled closer, closing
the distance between them.

  Lord Brightly shot to his feet. “You dare threaten me!”

  “You threatened my future duchess. If I hear a single whispered word about her or her father, read a snippet or sentence in the papers, or by god see anyone look oddly at my bride, I will know it came from you. I will hang you above a pig sty and cut you from jewel sack to gullet and let the pigs feed on your entrails.” Fallon leaned forward.

  Lord Brightly raised his cane like a sword. “Don’t come any closer, you fiend! Carter! Carter!” Lord Brightly screeched.

  Fallon snatched the cane and broke it over his knee. “Imagine that was your neck Lord Brightly. Every time you think of Heather, think of that snap.”

  “You’re nothing but a deranged Scot!”

  Fallon shrugged. “I’m not Scottish by blood, but I was raised by Scots. If there’s one thing Scots do well, it’s killing Englishmen. Remember that.” Fallon turned to the door as a burly footman charged through.

  “I’m leaving,” Fallon sneered as he left Lord Brightly shaking in his buckled shoes.

  He was lightheaded as he climbed into his carriage. He grinned, enjoying the hot thrill of aggression that surged inside him. This must be how his ancestors had felt, defending their holdings, charging into bloody battle. It wouldn’t come to that, Fallon was certain, but for Heather, he would not hesitate to lay waste to Lord Brightly or anyone else.

  Fallon found the apartment just as his new lawyer’s hired runner had described. It was not in the best part of London, which confirmed his suspicions of Mr. Bell. Though evidence so far suggested they were indeed cousins, he didn’t feel any familial connection. Mr. Bell, who should actually be Mr. Calder, had burned any kindness Fallon otherwise may have shown him. What he wished to do was knock his teeth out, but the man was old and probably troubled financially.

  Fallon knocked forcefully on the door. There was scuffling and cursing from the other side before the door was yanked open.