Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Pleasurable,’ Christian purred as he now cupped both her breasts in his hands.

  ‘Yes...’

  ‘Sensual.’ The soft pads of his thumbs stroked across the swollen tips.

  ‘Oh, yes...’

  ‘Arousing.’ He now pinched both those ripe berries between his thumbs and fingers.

  ‘Dieu, yes!’

  Christian proceeded to stroke and pinch, again and again, encouraged by Lisette’s rapidly increasing breathing and the way she could not help but arch into those pleasurable caresses.

  ‘Oh...!’ she gasped within minutes. ‘Do not stop. Oh, please do not, Christian...!’ She pressed even harder into those caresses.

  ‘I have no intention of doing so.’ Christian frowned in concentration as he gauged exactly what gave her the greatest pleasure, determined to bring her to full pleasure before progressing any further.

  The lightest of strokes. A caress. A gentle pinch. A squeeze, just so.

  He had always been a considerate lover, he hoped, but it had never mattered quite so much to him before that the woman he was with attained the greatest pleasure from their lovemaking. He wanted Lisette to enjoy, to savour everything they did together, in the same way that he now was.

  Lisette was beyond speech, beyond anything but the mindless pleasure flooding through her body, her breasts heavy and aching as Christian continued to stroke and squeeze. Between her thighs—mon Dieu, the swelling pleasurable sensation between her thighs was beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

  ‘Let go, Lisette,’ Christian encouraged fiercely, his face flushed, hair dishevelled.

  ‘I do not under— Ooooh!’ Something had burst free inside her, a huge explosion of such a myriad of pleasures, that overwhelming pulsing centred between her thighs, her core now contracting and releasing, throbbing as those waves of pleasure crashed over her again and again. ‘Christian...!’ she finally sobbed as she collapsed weakly forward against his chest.

  Christian gathered Lisette into his arms, holding her close as he ran soothing hands up and down the length of her spine, allowing her to ride out the storm as she continued to softly gasp and sob in the aftershocks of her climax.

  He felt such a swelling of emotions in his own chest as he continued to hold her, too many to be able to discern one from the other with any degree of certainty, but he knew he felt an increased tenderness, protectiveness towards the young woman he had just pleasured and now held in his arms. It was—

  A sharp rap of knuckles sounded on one of the coach windows. ‘We are almost arrived at Sutherland House, Christian.’ Marcus’s voice was slightly muffled through the glass but the words were discernible nonetheless.

  Christian barely had time to absorb those words, to register the sounds of the city outside—street vendors shouting their wares, the sounds of other carriages and horses traversing the cobbled streets, the ringing of church bells to the hour of twelve—sounds he had been totally unaware of until now, as he focused all of his attention on pleasuring Lisette.

  Lisette pushed against his chest and sat up abruptly, eyes dark. Her cheeks were also flushed, her bared breasts full and the nipples red and swollen from Christian’s ministrations.

  She quickly grasped the two sides of her ripped chemise to cover those breasts as she glared at him accusingly.

  ‘Do not,’ Christian advised wearily as she opened those delectable lips to deliver what, he had no doubt, would be another sound tongue-lashing for the liberties he had just taken with her person.

  Much as it might be deserved, it was not at all the tongue-lashing he now ached for.

  And so much for tasting Lisette.

  For having her taste him.

  Christian had not realised how close to London they were when they began their lovemaking—it seemed he barely knew what time of day it was when he was with Lisette!—and he was now left feeling even more physically frustrated and out of sorts than he had been when they began.

  A discomfort he would now have to deal with himself once he reached the privacy of his bedchamber at Sutherland House.

  Speaking of which...

  ‘You will need to dress, Lisette, if we are to arrive shortly—’

  ‘How would you suggest I do that when my chemise is now ruined?’ she came back agitatedly even as she moved along the seat before standing up, her crushed gown instantly falling to the carriage floor. ‘Look at me!’ She wailed her distress.

  Christian was looking.

  He could not seem to do anything else but look as Lisette bent over slightly beneath the roof of the carriage, her hair in complete disarray, face flushed and wearing only the tatters of her ripped chemise, her drawers and those white stockings held up by the pretty garters.

  She had the appearance of a sensual woman who had been well and truly seduced.

  Which she was and had.

  Never in Christian’s experience had he ever known a woman to attain her physical release just from having her breasts played with.

  ‘Christian!’

  He blinked, shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, as he raised his gaze from those responsive breasts to look at Lisette’s face.

  A face that bore an expression of dismay now, rather than her previous satiation, followed by agitation. ‘Best to remove the chemise completely and I will dispose of it later,’ he instructed economically. ‘Then put your gown back on, your cloak over the top of it, and no one will be able to tell that you are not wearing your undergarment.’

  ‘Until I remove the cloak,’ she pointed out irritably even as she did as he suggested and impatiently removed the chemise.

  A move that played havoc with Christian’s unsatisfied arousal as he gazed his fill of slender shoulders, those completely bared breasts, her curvaceous waist and hips. ‘Then do not remove your cloak until after you have reached the privacy of your bedchamber,’ he answered her distractedly, the throb of his manhood painful still in its intensity.

  ‘My bedchamber?’ Lisette stilled, seemingly unconcerned with her near nakedness.

  Would that Christian felt the same disinterest!

  He nodded tersely. ‘You will be staying with me at Sutherland House until...until I have opportunity to speak with Lord Maystone.’

  ‘After which I am no doubt to be held a prisoner in the Tower of London, where all traitors to England are incarcerated.’ Lisette’s stubborn little chin rose. ‘Whether they be innocent, as I am, or guilty,’ she added disgustedly even as she pulled her gown into place to cover her nakedness.

  ‘How you do love the dramatic, Lisette.’ Christian snapped his impatience with the trait as he sat up and gingerly swung his legs to the floor of the carriage, paying special attention to his injured thigh. ‘No one is going to lock you up in a tower, now or in the future.’

  Lisette looked at him anxiously. ‘You promise?’

  Christian’s expression softened as he saw the fear had returned to her eyes. ‘I promise.’

  Although he was not quite so confident about being able to keep that promise when the first person he saw as he stepped down from his carriage with Marcus’s help was Lord Aubrey Maystone...

  Chapter Ten

  What the devil—?

  ‘My fault, I am afraid,’ Marcus muttered after glancing at the older man coming down the steps towards them. ‘I sent word ahead of the delay because of your having been shot, and to expect our arrival today. I also informed Maystone that you had not returned from France alone,’ he added at Christian’s scowl. ‘I did not tell him that Lisette was Helene Rousseau’s daughter—’

  ‘I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.’ Christian continued to scowl his displeasure.

  ‘I did so before I came to know Lisette for the charming girl she is,’ he said defensively as Christian
gave him a censorious frown.

  ‘She is not a girl but a woman.’

  ‘So it would seem.’ Marcus gave a pointed glance towards the carriage. ‘You obviously found her to be so on the journey here.’

  ‘Marcus...’ he growled in warning.

  The other man shrugged. ‘None of my business how and with whom you choose to pass the time of day, old chap.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear it.’ Christian turned to assist Lisette down from the carriage. ‘Do not be alarmed,’ he assured her gently as her panicked gaze moved past him to the rapidly approaching Aubrey Maystone. ‘All will be well, Lisette.’ He kept a firm hold of her arm, just in case she should be tempted to turn on her booted feet and run.

  He would not put it past her to attempt such a move; Lisette had shown these past few days that she could be an enterprising young lady when the situation warranted it. And, damn it, her present apprehension in regard to Aubrey Maystone showed all the signs of becoming such a situation.

  Maystone was usually the most charming of men, shrewd to a fault, admittedly, but invariably polite to the ladies. Unfortunately, this business with his grandson had turned even that amiable gentleman into a man intent on vengeance against the person or persons responsible for ordering the kidnapping. The three people now held in custody had only been instrumental in carrying out those orders; they had not instigated them.

  Christian was certain that he now held the daughter of the person guilty of that crime close to his side. So close that he could feel the slight trembling of Lisette’s body as she pressed against him, as if for protection.

  His mouth tightened determinedly as he turned to greet the older man. ‘Maystone.’

  ‘Sutherland.’ The other man nodded distractedly, his piercing gaze fixed on Lisette. ‘Perhaps you would care to explain...?’

  ‘I will make the introductions once we are inside.’ Christian spared no time in waiting to see if the other two gentlemen agreed or disagreed with his suggestion as he stepped towards the house and took Lisette with him.

  Whilst he had every reason to trust the members of his own household, he had no intention of engaging in any sort of conversation in a public street.

  ‘He looks a very fierce gentleman,’ Lisette commented softly after giving an anxious glance back at the two men following close behind them.

  ‘He has...been under a great deal of strain these past few weeks,’ Christian excused.

  ‘How old is his grandson?’

  ‘Just eight.’

  ‘Mon Dieu,’ she breathed softly. ‘If Helene is guilty of ordering his kidnapping—’

  ‘I believe that she is, yes,’ Christian confirmed grimly.

  She sighed heavily. ‘Then once Lord Maystone knows the truth, he cannot help but feel it only just that Helene’s child should be made to pay for her crimes. The “sins of the father” or, in this case, mother,’ she added with a grimace.

  ‘You cannot believe that any more than I,’ Christian rebuked her.

  She gave another of those Gallic shrugs. ‘It is how I would feel if I were Lord Maystone.’

  ‘Then I suggest you keep that opinion to yourself,’ Christian came back with soft impatience as he turned to greet his butler. ‘Miss Duprée would prefer to keep her cloak on for the moment, Evans,’ he informed the elderly man as he reached to take the garment from her.

  Lisette smiled her apology at the elderly butler even as her cheeks coloured a becoming pink.

  No doubt at the memory of why she needed to continue to wear that cloak.

  In truth, Christian felt slightly ashamed of his behaviour towards her in his carriage. He was a man usually in complete control, of himself as well as others, but where Lisette was concerned, it seemed he constantly lost every shred of that control.

  And he defied anyone, least of all himself, to attempt to put any control on the stubbornly determined young lady he now knew Lisette to be...

  ‘Refreshments in the library, if you please, Evans,’ Christian instructed as he continued to limp his way into and through the cavernous entrance hall of his London residence.

  Christian had chosen the library in which to talk, for two reasons.

  Firstly, Lisette had found his house in France overwhelming and Sutherland House was even more so. The library was one of the less imposing rooms in the house, and the place where Christian usually spent his evenings at home relaxing by the fire, reading a book or dealing with correspondence.

  His second reason—the library was his place of business, and he preferred any conversation with Aubrey Maystone to be completely that.

  Despite Lisette’s earlier observation, Christian believed the older man looked less strained than he had before Christian left for France. No doubt because he had now had the chance to enjoy the safe return and company of his only grandson, even if that abduction still played heavily on his mind.

  Now all Christian had to do, once he had revealed Lisette’s true identity, was to convince Maystone that she had no knowledge of or involvement in that kidnapping!

  The first he would do carefully, so as not to cause a reaction that would frighten Lisette any more. After which he would explain how Lisette had not even known Helene Rousseau was her mother until just a few short months ago.

  Lisette waited only long enough for the butler to leave the room and close the door behind him before crossing to where Lord Maystone stood in front of the window looking out into the garden at the back of the house.

  She drew in a deep breath, determined to have her say and not allow herself to be overwhelmed by this imposing house and its liveried servants. Or the three gentlemen with whom she shared the room. Although that was a little harder to do when two of them were dukes and the third a lord.

  Lisette straightened her shoulders determinedly. ‘I cannot tell you how sorry I am for all that you have endured, m’lord.’ That gentleman’s eyes widened in obvious surprise, no doubt because she spoke to him in French as she reached out and took both of his hands in her own. ‘Your grandson has not suffered any lasting effects from his ordeal, I hope?’ she prompted anxiously.

  ‘Good Lord, Sutherland, she’s French!’ the older man gasped, obviously shocked.

  ‘I have often remarked upon Maystone’s powers of observation, have I not, Christian?’ Marcus Wilding drawled from where he had made himself comfortable in a chair beside the lit fireplace.

  ‘Now is not the time for levity, Marcus,’ Christian warned.

  ‘I am indeed French, m’lord, and my name is Lisette Duprée.’ She gave a small curtsy as she continued to concentrate on the man before her rather than the conversation of the two gentlemen behind her. ‘I am also—’

  ‘My ward,’ Christian put in hastily.

  ‘Your ward...?’ Lord Maystone echoed faintly, appearing totally bewildered by these introductions.

  As no doubt he was. That explanation might have sufficed in a Portsmouth inn, but Lisette doubted very much that any in London would believe Christian’s insistence in introducing her as such.

  Her mouth firmed. ‘I am also—’

  ‘Lisette, no!’ Christian attempted to forestall her. ‘Let me—’

  ‘—Helene Rousseau’s illegitimate daughter.’ Lisette refused to be silenced, having no intention of attempting to hide her identity or deceive the gentleman now standing before her.

  ‘Good God...!’ Lord Maystone stared at her in astonishment.

  ‘I do not think God has, or ever had, any part in Helene Rousseau’s actions.’ Lisette wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. ‘I can only offer my most sincere regret for any hurt or discomfort she may have caused to you or your family.’

  Lisette’s candour had completely overridden Christian’s own intention, of approaching the subject of Lisette’s identity as Helene Rousseau’s daughter wit
h caution. Indeed, he had been rendered momentarily speechless by Lisette’s disarming honesty.

  As Worthing and Maystone were similarly struck, if the looks on those two gentlemen’s faces were any indication.

  It was a candour which Christian should no doubt have taken into account when deciding upon his own plan of action in regard to revealing Lisette’s identity.

  ‘Bravo, Lisette.’ Worthing was the first to recover from his shock, as he gave her a gentle and appreciative clap. ‘She has the courage of ten men, Christian,’ he added admiringly.

  ‘It takes no courage at all to tell the truth, Your Grace.’ Lisette was the one to answer him ruefully.

  ‘It does, in my experience.’ Marcus grimaced.

  ‘And mine,’ Christian added softly, finding himself once again admiring and not a little in awe of Lisette’s determination to be truthful. Even if, in this case, he might have wished her to be a little less so. ‘I believe you may safely allow me to deal with any further explanations, Lisette—’

  ‘Helene Rousseau’s daughter!’ Maystone appeared to have recovered his voice, although he continued to stare at Lisette as if he had seen a ghost, seeming unaware that Lisette still held on to his hands.

  ‘Illegitimate daughter,’ Lisette corrected firmly.

  ‘I— But—’ Maystone gave a shake of his head as if to clear it. ‘Helene Rousseau does not have a daughter.’

  ‘I was as surprised as you obviously are when she claimed me as such only a few months ago,’ Lisette asserted regretfully. ‘You cannot know how much I have wished since that it was not the case,’ she added heavily.

  Lisette had resisted that connection from the start. She also felt heartily ashamed of any part Helene might have played in the kidnapping of an innocent eight-year-old boy.

  But, having now met Lord Maystone, Lisette felt a renewed anger towards the older woman. It was bad enough that Helene had abandoned her own child to be brought up by strangers, but Helene’s crime against Lord Maystone and his family, because of her political machinations—and a crime she had given no indication of caring about these past months—was truly unforgivable.