The Duke's Fallen Angel

by Amy Jarecki

  “A valet is a requisite for any gentleman.” He pulled her into his arms, running kisses along her neck. “But I have far more important things on my mind, Wife.”

  All of him pressed into her flesh, igniting a ravening fire deep inside her. Unable to resist touching him, Bria slipped both hands over his velvety soft skin, swirling her fingers down the dark trail of hair running from his navel to the tight curls above his swollen manhood.

  But she didn’t touch it—not yet. Leaning back, she placed a finger in the center of his chest, as she drew in a hiss. “I want to ravish you.”

  He growled—a low, feral moan that told her how much he liked her idea.

  She moved her finger down, down until she met his navel, then bowed and kissed him there.

  Again, he let loose a rapturous moan—a sound that thrummed through her body as if he’d touched her between the legs. “I’ll come undone if you keep teasing me like that.”

  Drawing out the moment, she slowly moved her tongue lower and chuckled. “Oui, I want to watch you lose control.” Her voice came out deep and breathless.

  When she wrapped her fingers around his manhood, his eyes rolled back and his knees flexed. “My God.”

  She could scarcely inhale as she smoothed her hand up and down. “Can I kiss it like you did to me?”

  His thighs shuddered as he looked into her eyes. “Would you?”

  Licking her lips, Bria dropped her gaze and lapped.

  “This way,” he whispered, taking her by the shoulders and backing to the bed. He pulled her beside him. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” She slid down and took his enormous member in her hand. “It’s so soft and beautiful.” Bria pressed her lips to the tip.

  “Mm,” Drake moaned, his hips swirling. The movement was like a bellows to the flame in her belly while she took him into her mouth.

  “Yes, oh yes.”

  Emboldened by his encouragement, Bria swirled her tongue around and around, up and down. His breathing grew labored, his moans more frequent, as he shuddered in concert with her licks. As his passion rose, so did her need.

  Panting, Drake pulled her over him. “I can wait no longer. I must be inside you.”

  “Me on top?” she asked, moisture pooling between her legs.

  “Yes. You on top, you from behind, you beneath, you standing against the wall. Any way you want it, I’m yours.”

  Her body completely afire, Bria slid over him, imagining all he had said and wanting it now. Rocking her hips, she rubbed her wetness along his length. “Top this time,” she managed to say while he slid his finger over her. “Mayhap the wall next.”

  “You’re so wet.” Grasping her hips, Drake moved so his member pushed against her, hard and thick. “Are you ready?”

  Frantic for him, she grasped his shoulders and lowered herself onto him until he filled her. Looking him in the eyes, she rocked her hips. “The question is, are you ready, Your Grace?”

  Laughing, he met her pace. “If it pleases you, Your Grace.”

  Unable to stop, Bria took her weight on her arms as her body took over in the dance of desire.

  His eyelids heavy and full of lust, he looked like the god of passion. “Do. Not. Stop,” he growled, commanding the tempo with powerful fingers sinking into her buttocks.

  Ripples of wild need quaked through her body while, faster and faster, her hips rocked in a frenzied motion.

  “I’m coming,” he said, bucking into her, sinking so deep, she cried out with the most thrilling passion she’d ever felt in her life. And with one more thrust of her hips, the world shattered into ripples of stardust.

  Completely spent, Bria collapsed atop his chest.

  Drake softly swirled his hands around her tight bottom. “You will be the death of me, but I will go a happy man.”

  “Hmm? I think you will give me a challenge at every turn.” He had no idea how much so. Feeling as if she’d just danced the role of the Sylph twice, Bria’s insides still quivered.

  “Thank you for loving me,” she whispered, her heart filled with more joy than she ever dreamed possible.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “AH, MASTER JOHN, COME in.” Drake beckoned the boy into his stateroom. After the wedding, he’d made the announcement that Johnny was now the ward of the Duke of Ravenscar and would henceforth be referred to as “master”.

  The lad crept inside. “Is it truly our last morn aboard ship...er...Your Grace?” He hadn’t quite come to grips with the new turn of events and things would be even more confounding once they disembarked.

  “It is, indeed, and soon Peak Castle will be looming on the horizon.”

  “And I’m going to live in a real castle?”

  “That you are.” Drake took the boy by the hand and led him to the bed where they sat together. “Do you know what it means to be the ward of a duke?”

  “Weeell. I’ll have plenty to eat and I’ll have my own bed and toys and I can tell the servants what to do.”

  “That’s not exactly correct. We must respect servants at all times. They help us and have particular skills that are very important.”

  “What kind of skills?”

  “The cook prepares our meals. The livery staff looks after the horses, carriages and the stable. The butler oversees the servants, takes care of the silver, and manages the wine...”

  “Being a butler doesn’t seem all that difficult.”

  “Mind you, it is a very important job, and few develop the panache to become one.”

  “Pan-what? You sure use a lot of big words.”

  “I’ll not apologize for that. Dukes and their wards must be well-educated. For now, let us say a butler has style and ability to which few others can aspire.” Drake started to twist his ring and smiled when he realized it was on Britannia’s finger. “When we go ashore, things will be very busy. You will be overwhelmed.”

  When Master John scrunched his nose, Drake changed his tack. “I do not ever want you to fear me. I have committed to be your guardian. That means I will act as your parent.”

  “And Bria, too.”

  “Her Grace will definitely care for you as well. Things will not always be easy, and I want you to know that you may come to me at any time.”

  “Very well, but nothing could be worse than living on the streets and going hungry.”

  “You’re right there.” Drake scrubbed his fingers over the lad’s hair. “Now, have you said your goodbyes to Buggie?”

  “Can’t he come with us?”

  “I’m afraid not, though you may write to him. I’ve seen how you write your letters. Her Grace has done a fine job commencing your education. Soon you’ll be off to Eton with other boys your age.”

  “Can’t Bria teach me always?”

  “She will be far to busy. Remember what I said about the servants all having an area of expertise?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Well, so do dukes, duchesses and instructors. A young man cannot gain a better education than that which he acquires at Eton. But let us not put the cart before the horse. And today you will be seeing your new home for the first time. I want you to enjoy this day and remember it always.” Drake stood and offered his hand. “Are you ready?”

  Master John grinned, his eyes shining with excitement. “I sure am.”

  BRIA GRIPPED THE RAIL so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “That’s not a castle, ’tis a palace.”

  Dominating a promontory that stood proudly above the sea, conical roofs on the corner towers stretched to white clouds sailing overhead. Between the towers spanned an enormous building of four stories with windows clear up to the top. At the far end, peeking above the southernmost tower stood a baronial keep complete with a crenelated wall walk.

  Pride etched Drake’s features. “Perhaps, though it has been referred to as a castle for nineteen generations. My ancestor was granted these lands by Edward the First. He built the initial tower intending for the estate to be a hunting lodge, though every
duke who followed fell in love with the region and added his own legacy. I believe we made it our principle residence after the fourth duke completed the east wing.”

  “It looks like the king’s castle in London,” said Johnny.

  Bria didn’t bother to ask which one. “I’ll wager you cannot wait to go exploring.”

  “I’d like it better if Buggie could go with me. I might get lost in there.”

  She had worried over Johnny’s attachment to the cabin boy. However, taking in another ward was out of the question. Not to mention that over the past month the older boy had taught Johnny some very colorful language.

  “You’ll get on fine,” said Drake.

  Being lowered to the skiff was a bit harrowing, but once they were seated, rowing ashore took no time. As they reached the shore, quite a welcoming party had assembled with more coming down the path leading from the castle.

  Drake carried Bria to dry land, while Johnny was happy to make it to the beach on his own.

  A woman dressed in a black maid’s gown and apron wrung her hands. “My heavens, Your Grace, why did you not send word of your arrival?”

  “There was no opportunity. We’ve sailed from somewhere near the coast of Northern Africa without a change of clothes among us.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ll explain all later. But first the news.” Beaming, he gestured toward Bria, her dress far more tattered than the traveling gown she’d worn on the day she’d met the duke. “Please welcome my new bride, Her Grace, the Duchess of Ravenscar and our ward, Master John Chadwick.”

  Of course, Drake hadn’t the chance to submit the petition to make Johnny’s name official, but he intended to do so at his earliest opportunity.

  The servants stared, their mouths agape.

  He gestured to the woman in black, introducing her as Mrs. Cole, the housekeeper. “I daresay our adventure has been quite harrowing. Her Grace will need an appointment with the modiste immediately. Fetch the tailor for Master John. And we need a governess. Are there any about?”

  “I shall make inquiries,” said Mrs. Cole before turning to a row of maids. “You heard His Grace. Beds need to be made, the nursery prepared.”

  “I don’t need no nursery,” said Johnny.

  “No?” asked Drake. “It is filled with toys.”

  “Toys for babies?”

  Drake winked at Bria. “Not at all. Perhaps you should see it before passing judgement.”

  “I’ll show him,” said a lad stepping forward from the crowd.

  A man dressed in working clothes grasped the boy’s shoulder. “James, you mustn’t speak out of turn.”

  “What a grand idea.” Drake moved toward them. “Thank you, James, would you mind showing Master John about?”

  The boy looked to his father who gave a nod. “Aye, Your Grace.”

  “He needs a proper bath first,” said Bria.

  “Oh, hogwash.” Their new ward grabbed James by arm. “Let’s go afore she douses me.”

  Bria shook her finger at the lad’s retreating form. “A bath. After supper. It is not negotiable.”

  Drake offered his elbow. “Going is the best idea I’ve heard today. Shall we, my dear?”

  Her stomach leaped. “Is it grander than Ravenscar Hall?”

  “Larger and filled with relics, though I’m not certain grander is the right descriptor.”

  And it wasn’t. Peak Castle was a marvel all its own. With over four hundred rooms, each one was decorated with a different theme. The dining hall was painted a light green with French paneling and furniture. The drawing room was lined with pastoral tapestries and gilt furniture. There was an armory displaying years of weaponry with the unicorn family crest at the focal point. A china turret, a salon with a pianoforte, a ballroom for dancing, a library, withdrawing rooms, vast kitchens, and so many bedchambers, Bria lost count.

  “I think this is my favorite chamber,” she said, dropping to her back on Drake’s enormous state bed.

  He crawled up beside her, resting on his side and propping his head in his hand. “Not the duchess’ bedchamber?”

  “Of course not. My favorite is yours. You do not intend for us to sleep apart, do you?”

  “I would die if we did.” He kissed her forehead. “Because I want to do this any moment I desire.” Cupping her breast, he kissed her cheek then growled, nuzzling into her neck

  Giggling with delight, Bria scooted aside. “And what about your theater?”

  “We could create a scandal and open next season with La Sylphide.”

  “I liked your idea about creating a ballet just for me.”

  “Hmm.” He frowned, brushing his fingers over the tops of her breasts.

  “Are you not enthralled with the idea of your wife on the stage?”

  “What if you are with child?”

  “Then I must have a very talented understudy.”

  “Have you someone in mind?”

  “I do. Pauline is very talented and too sweet to rise through the corps on her own.”

  He squeezed her side playfully. “Are you telling me you’re not sweet?”

  “Stop!” Bria brushed his fingers away with a squeal. “I’m tenacious.”

  “That you are.”

  She tugged on the end of his neckcloth. “Your mother is going to be devastated about us.”

  “She’ll come around in time.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “She’ll have to. Besides, once she comes to know you better, she can’t help but love you.”

  “I hope so.”

  “We must burn this costume.” With a sly grin, Drake pulled the sleeves from her shoulders. “Perhaps I’ll suggest Mother marry Mr. Peters.”

  “The gunsmith?”

  “We both know they’ve been having something of an affair. I would be far happier if she married the man than if their liaison became the subject of the scandal sheets.”

  “He’s wealthy, is he not?”

  “New money, but mother needs neither wealth nor title. She’ll always be the dowager duchess even if she marries a commoner.”

  “You married a commoner.”

  “Since women cannot hold titles, in truth, all peers marry commoners.”

  Bria sat up. “Then why is London’s marriage mart such a thing?”

  “Because of perceived breeding—gently-bred ladies and the like. Though in truth, it always been more about the exchange of wealth and keeping that wealth within certain families than one’s lineage.”

  “Unless the child of a nobleman is born out of wedlock—even if the breeding is superlative.”

  “As in your case?”

  “My father was a king. My mother is a baroness. I am a bastard.”

  “You are a duchess now.” Bria’s heart brimmed with joy as her husband pulled her back to his side and kissed her. “Mind you, do not forget it. Now make passionate, unabashed love with me, Your Grace.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN since you wrote to Calthorpe?” asked Bria, the reins still a tad unsteady in her hands, though over the past few weeks she and Drake had ridden every morning.

  She wore a new riding habit, one fitting for a duchess. Though inside, Bria still felt much the same aside from being content and happier. “I dispatched a letter to them the day after we arrived home. I sent one to my mother as well.”

  “I’m surprised we haven’t heard back.”

  “I’m more surprised about Mother,” Drake said, leading them into open pasture. “I expected to hear from her lady’s maid advising that Her Grace had taken to her bed with a mysterious illness.”

  Bria’s knee tightened around the upper pommel of her sidesaddle. “Do you think she will ever accept me?”

  “She has no choice but to do so.”

  “But she may always harbor a grudge.”

  “Not for long. Mother might put up a fuss at first, but once she realizes she has been beaten, she always pulls in her daggers.”<
br />
  Picking up a trot, Bria rode up beside him. “I’ve received a letter from Pauline.”

  “Good news I hope.”

  “Good and bad. It seems Lord Saye is no longer in the picture.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “But she’s excited about opening the Chadwick Theater Ballet School.”

  “Splendid—and act as your understudy?”

  “Are you still certain I should dance—you once told me dukes don’t tread the boards. Will it not be awkward for you if I do?”

  “I no longer care what polite society thinks. Besides, your circumstances are entirely different. You were a smashing success last Season—London’s darling. I think it will be fitting for you to continue at least until...” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

  Bria knew exactly what he meant and the idea of starting a family made her insides tingle. She returned his smile. “I think Pauline will be happy to understudy knowing I do not plan to play the lead for long. And she needs a strong supporting role. I’m sure there will be no problem choregraphing an extra piece or two for her.” She ran the reins through her gloved fingers. “On that note, has Perkins found a choreographer? He’ll need to start soon.”

  “Perhaps there’s a whole parcel of mail due to arrive—aside from Pauline’s missive. There are too many people who owe us responses, and the last thing I want to do at the moment is travel to London.”

  A team of horses sounded in the distance. “Look there.” Drake pointed. “A carriage is approaching.”

  Indeed, a shiny, black carriage turned onto the long, sycamore-lined drive. “I think that coach is far too well-appointed for a mail courier.”

  “Come.” He turned his horse toward the castle. “I’ll race you home.”

  Leaning forward, Bria tapped her crop and kicked her heel, but racing the Duke of Ravenscar was nothing short of futile. He was as comfortable in a saddle as she was at the barre. Besides, a woman seated in a sidesaddle who was just learning to ride didn’t have a chance.

  Though Drake could win twice over, he didn’t even try. Together, they cantered side by side and reached the entry in plenty of time to be standing on Peak Castle’s front steps when the carriage came to a halt.