No Duke Will Do

by Devon, Eva

  Her fingers trembled, not with fear but desire, as she undid the front placket. As she worked his breeches down his hard, granite legs, she purred, “Mine.”

  A low, tortured sound slipped past his lips. “Yours,” he replied.

  She gazed at the hard shaft between his legs. She’d seen the adult male form in sculpture, but never in life.

  He was a picture of opposites. Hard and smooth.

  Tentatively, she reached out, then boldly, she took him in her hand.

  He hissed.

  Triumph at his pleasure coursed through her.

  But before she could go further, he whipped her onto her back.

  “Tonight is about you,” he growled.

  She didn’t understand what he meant, but she trusted him.

  So as he all but devoured her mouth with his, his hand eased between her thighs, stroking until it found her center.

  A cry of amazement tore from her lips.

  He’d found some spot. A spot that suddenly had her desperate for breath.

  Relentlessly, he circled his fingers over it, spreading her own slick desire over her folds.

  As she began to shake and hold onto him tighter, he didn’t relent. Oh, no, he only increased his attention.

  And just as she thought she couldn’t bear it, he rumbled against her ear, “That’s it, luv. Oi want to see you take your pleasure.”

  And as if he had somehow commanded it to be so, wave after wave of wild ecstasy washed over her.

  The intensity and purity of it stole her breath and thought. She could not hold back her cry of wonder.

  His hard body pressed over hers. And as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his shaft pressed against her opening.

  The liquid pleasure part of her body eased, and then as he thrust forward, she gasped at the impossibility of it.

  He groaned, holding still.

  Her fingers dug into his back as she panted, trying to accommodate him.

  “Oi-Oi can stop,” he rasped.

  “Don’t. . . you dare,” she replied before she wrapped her arms about him.

  Her words must have driven him over some unseen edge because he slowly deepened his thrust as he angled her hips.

  A sharp pain ran through her, and then. . . Then it was gone.

  Her body melded into his, and as he began a rugged rhythm, she began to rock against him, allowing something positively primal to take her over.

  The need of his body increased, his muscles taught.

  She held him like an anchor until he placed his hand between their bodies and stroked her anew until the fullness she felt from his shaft and the stroke of his fingers drove her into bliss.

  He cried her name out like a prayer as she threw her own head back, lost in pleasure.

  As he shuddered against her, he was the most vulnerable she’d ever seen him.

  And she was amazed that she could see him like that.

  Ragged breaths filled the air as he carefully fell to her side and pulled her against him.

  She propped herself up and gazed down on his face, softened in this moment of pleasure.

  His chest rose and fell as he took in her gaze. “No regrets, Mary?”

  “Never,” she said firmly. “Never.”

  “No going back now,” he said, caressing her lower lip.

  Instinctively, she bit his thumb then held his palm to her cheek. “No,” she agreed. “Never back.”

  With those words, he pulled her back atop him, splaying her legs across his hips.

  Her eyes widened. “Again,” she whispered. “I want you again. I want you always.”

  “Always,” he growled, his hands guiding her hips.

  And she knew she’d found her home at last.

  Chapter 18

  The dirty gray dawn of London slipped in through the window, spilling over onto the bed and the floor.

  Mary stretched against Heath, delighting in the feel of his hard body along hers. A whole world had opened itself to her now, and she caught herself smiling. This was happiness. This moment right now, with him, was peace. She’d never known such peace, but now in his arms, she absolutely loved it.

  Suddenly, he flung an arm over his forehead and said, “How the devil are we going to tell your family?”

  “I don’t know,” she confessed. “But I suppose we must.”

  “Must we?” he asked. “Must we tell them right away? I feel like we’ve had so little time together that we should try to enjoy it first, before they all start yelling and clamoring and claiming I’m the devil.”

  She frowned. She had not truly considered how she would tell her mother and brother. Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know that they will do that.”

  “Oh,” he groaned. “They will. I know your brother. He’ll try to have my guts for garters, and rightly.”

  “So, I’ve heard,” she teased. “You were helping him.”

  “Helping him?” he said, clearly trying to look innocent. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, yes, I was, and you approve?”

  “The Duke of Drake told me you’ve been giving him aid.”

  Heath suddenly looked sheepish. “I wanted to help him. I knew what trouble he was in.”

  She squeezed his arm. “And by helping him, you helped me,” she said softly.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Well, you might not thank me for all the ways I did.”

  She shook her head then kissed his bared chest, savoring the slight salt of him. “He is happier than he’s been in some time, and because of your help, I think he’s going to find love.”

  “With Lady Harriet,” he said.

  “Does everyone know but Robert?” she laughed.

  Heath rumbled out a laugh to match hers. “Yes, I think so. He’ll probably be the last to admit it.”

  She grinned up at him. “You’re almost certainly correct. Robert is so afraid of happiness. I hope that he embraces it.”

  Heath wrapped his arms about her. “I do too. Just as we have done.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, snuggling into his strong fortress of a body. “When shall we be married?”

  “Today?” he asked, kissing the top of her head. “Tomorrow? Whenever you wish, but let us not wait too long.”

  She grinned up at him. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”

  “I think I am,” he said. “Would that be so very terrible?”

  “Not terrible at all. I think it’d be the most exciting thing of my life. Let us do it.”

  She thought of her mother then, how disappointed she would be if she wasn’t at her wedding, but she wasn’t going to think about anyone else right now, anyone but their love and each other, and perhaps Heath was right.

  If she did tell her mother, her mother would be horrified and do everything she could to stop them. And Mary would not be stopped. She was going to do this, and nothing was going to get in her way. Better to have him and then explain. That seemed to be the best course of action.

  She wanted to live boldly now, without fear, and that’s exactly what she was going to do. So she laced her hands with Heath’s. “Do you think you could find someone to marry us as soon as possible?”

  He smiled at her. “Oh, I’m a man of many opportunities and ways. I think I can manage it.”

  “Let us not wait, then,” she rushed. “You and I have already waited far too long. We’ve wasted so much time.”

  His eyes softened, a depth of emotion welling up in them. “No, love,” he said. “It’s not time wasted. We both needed to know exactly what we wanted, and now we know.”

  “Now we know,” she agreed.

  “I want you always and forever.” He smiled, stroking her face tenderly.

  “Always and forever,” she said.

  “That seems. . .”

  “Heavenly?” she put in.

  “Heavenly,” he growled against her.

  He pulled her tighter to him and held her for a long moment. Then he let go and swung his legs over the side of the bed, al
l but bounding out.

  “Let us have coffee,” he said, clapping his hands. “It’s time to meet the day boldly.”

  She couldn’t contain her joy at his enthusiasm. “Is that what you do every morning? Meet the day boldly?”

  “Indeed, I do,” he proclaimed, swaggering naked to the bellpull. “What better way to live. I’m not one for staying abed unless it’s with you.”

  “No, let us embrace the day. For I want to be married as soon as we may.”

  She did not allow the small whisper that they were throwing themselves at this, without her family, take root.

  He pulled the bell.

  She studied him, amazed at the power of his body.

  It was unlike anything she’d ever seen in her whole life, and she couldn’t draw her eyes away from him.

  “You like what you see?” he teased.

  “Indeed, I do,” she said. “You’re most delicious.”

  “Delicious?” he scoffed.

  “Yes, like a dessert, and I want to eat every bit of you.”

  He considered this. “I’ve never been compared to a confection before.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow. “I think you and I should have many firsts together.”

  “I think you’re right,” he agreed. “Now, come on, then, Lady Mary. It’s time to get you dressed so we can find someone to make us man and wife.”

  She swung her legs out of bed, clutching the sheet to her.

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  “What?” she asked, looking about.

  “Hide yourself from me.”

  She blushed.

  In all her life, she’d never bounded about a room nude before, but she decided this was going to be a morning of firsts, so she might as well jump in. She left the linen behind, stood in the cool room, felt her skin prickle, and was amazed by how delightful it felt.

  At first, she felt nervous, but then she strode towards him and into his arms. They stood near the banked fire.

  “You are going to make me a wanton woman,” she accused lightly.

  He laughed. “I think you already are, but I’m happy to oblige. I want you to always be free, Mary, and you can be free with me. Don’t hide yourself from me.”

  “I shan’t,” she said, but in her heart, a little sliver of a doubt suddenly appeared.

  Would he always be honest with her?

  Could he?

  He was so reticent to share his past. Was that something she could allow? She supposed she had to; he was a man of many secrets and a past that pained him deeply. It would be unkind to force him to speak of it now.

  Perhaps one day, he would let it slip out, the story of his life, and she would wait for it. Wait for him to share it with her, and when he did, she would be there for him, ready to smooth the pain of all those years, ready to lead him forward into the light.

  Chapter 19

  Some Months Later

  The wedding that occurred in a small chapel in a little part of London had left Richard Heath giddy.

  A license had been procured with a good deal of manipulation and a good deal of gold too. Strangers had been the witnesses at their wedding. He knew Mary would probably have liked to have had her mother, her family, there. But they had both acknowledged the fact that this was for them and for no one else, and so, they both had agreed, no friends, no family, just themselves.

  At this particular point, they knew they needed to cherish what they had and not invite anyone else in, because if they did, they would be asking for criticism and difficulty. But now, as he stood outside Number 79, the club which his friends had formed, he felt his first wave of reticence and guilt.

  Had he made a terrible mistake in this secret?

  The dukes had been, dare he say, kind to him, inviting him into their mix. It wasn’t usual for men of power from the aristocracy to allow someone like him into their fold, and they had done so with open arms, and now, he was repaying them with subterfuge and deceit.

  He strode up to the door and was admitted easily. Madame de Cocqueville eyed him up and down.

  “Mon cher Monsieur Heath, you look as if you have had the weight of the world taken off your shoulders,” the beautiful French woman who guarded the door of Number 79 said. “What ever could be lightening your step?”

  Madame de Cocqueville was a woman he respected greatly. She’d survived the French Revolution and came to London. She’d become a recognized playwright and author here, and she was a woman who knew people, which was dangerous.

  She was going to assess him, and he was terrified she might be able to read his mind.

  So he merely arched a brow. “Ah. Merely enjoying the world,” he said.”

  “I do not believe you for a second, mon cher,” she said. “You have found love.”

  “You French people,” he tsked. “You always assume that if one is well in the world, they have found love.”

  “Because it is true,” she returned playfully. “The only thing that induces such a look as yours is l’amour. You have found a woman, Heath. I hope she is treating you very well.”

  Heath ground his teeth together.

  He could admit it, or he could continue to try to deny it.

  In his experience, a little bit of truth was better than a bald-faced lie, and so, he said, “She is making me very happy.”

  “Good,” Madame de Cocqueville announced, clapping her hands together, her rings winking. “I am glad to hear it. You deserve happiness.”

  “Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m glad that I meet with your approval.”

  “You always have,” she said. “You are a true revolutionary at heart.”

  “How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” he sallied. “I don’t wish to see the streets wild and full of anarchy.”

  “No,” she said. “You wish them to be reordered so that there is justice in the world, which is exactly what I wanted. And if things had gone differently in my beloved France, I would still be there.”

  But they had not gone differently.

  It was the nature of humans to muck up revolutions, to muck up any betterment of society.

  He knew it, which was another reason not to reveal his marriage to Mary any time soon. He doubted there would be a great deal of tolerance for it. After all, a marriage from him to someone like Lady Mary was a restructuring of society.

  Something that aristocrats were not eager for, no matter how tolerant they might seem.

  “The dukes are upstairs,” Madame de Cocqueville said. “No doubt, they shall be glad to see you.”

  He gave a nod.

  He was here on business, really. He often did things to help them, for they did good work.

  He strode through the small but beautifully appointed townhouse, climbed the stairs, and found the secret door. He pulled the book, which allowed the door to slide open, and headed into the corridor. He heard the sound of laughter and men laughing, of the Duke of Drake at the piano, playing a merry tune.

  He came into the comforting atmosphere of men sprawled about on leather chairs, drinking brandy before the fire, as a cry of huzzah went up from them.

  “Heath,” the Duke of Blackstone proclaimed. “Get in here, man.”

  Heath swallowed.

  Mary’s brother was a good man and a kind fellow. He went out of his way to include others, and he’d included Heath, and Heath had repaid him by taking his sister’s innocence.

  No, that wasn’t true.

  He hadn’t taken anything from Mary. Mary had given it freely. He gave a nod.

  “I can’t tell if you’re in a good humor or a bad humor,” the Duke of Royland said.

  “Both,” Heath said.

  “Hmm,” the Duke of Drake said. “I wonder what could be causing such feelings?”

  There was a sparkle in the Duke of Drake’s eyes that made Heath nervous. Mary had told him that Drake had encouraged her to go to him.

  So, it was very possible that Drake already had an idea t
hat something was afoot. He gave Drake a solid warning stare, and Drake merely gave him a mischievous smile before he played his hand over the ivory keys, then took a sip of his brandy.

  “Do, do come in, said the spider to the fly,” Drake drawled.

  Heath rolled his eyes. He enjoyed Drake’s sense of drama.

  “Come sit,” said Harley.

  And he did.

  He chose a chair, sat in it carefully, and considered the powerful men about him.

  They were his friends, as far as a man like he could use the word. He would never quite forget that they were all incredibly powerful men, who could destroy him if they wanted.

  Well, not truly destroy. They could try. But they could make his life incredibly difficult, and he’d certainly chosen a path which might lead them to do so.

  Would they still accept him if they found out he was married into their circle?

  He did not know, and he was not ready to tell them.

  “Have a drink,” Royland said, and he poured Heath a glass of brandy.

  Heath lifted the glass in salute, then took a sip of the warm French liquid. It slid over his tongue, a wealthy, comforting feeling.

  These men had been surrounded by wealth and privilege their entire lives. They’d all suffered in some way, it was true. But none of them had known the sort of harrowing life he had. He did not envy them for it, because he knew one could still suffer greatly when surrounded by a gilded cage.

  Still, they’d never understand him. He was the strange one in the room, even if they thought he had been brought into the fold. Even if he’d gotten them out of severe scrapes. Even if they’d used their power to help his endeavors.

  “Do you bring news,” Royland asked.

  “Yes. The article you wrote about gin, it seems to be improving things. We’re seeing less of the issue we had before.”

  Royland nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Next, we’ll have to see if we can get more laws passed in Parliament to see if we can stop the pressing we discussed.”

  Not long ago, Heath had brought Royland a piece of information about black men being pressed off the streets and taken into slavery and sold. It was a stain upon England, and they were working to resolve such issues, but it was not going to be easy.