The Truth About Princesses and Dukes (The Duke Hunters Club)

by Blythe, Bianca

The single word shouldn’t have caused her to moan, but his breath was hot against her ear, and in the next moment he feathered open-mouthed kisses on her neck.

  “Is this good?” His mouth was tantalizing near her,

  “G-good.” Her body surged with that strange heat again, and when he next pressed a kiss against her neck, she met his mouth with her own. Their tongues danced as their bodies melted together.

  The carriage was uncomfortable, despite all the money the Duke of Framingham had devoted to upholstery and pillows. It didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was him. He glided strong hands over her skin, over her dress, then he swept her onto his lap.

  “Aria,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her bodice. His hands slid from her waist, toward her bosom, and heat swirled through her body at his touch.

  She traced his chiseled jaw, then ran her fingers through his soft, silky brown hair. She wanted to memorize every line of his face. She wanted to imprint the feel of his skin, of his hair.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her closer to her. She craved the expert touch of his tongue.

  Carriage wheels sounded outside, and Rupert yanked the curtains shut. The sudden darkness didn’t make the moments less appealing.

  Soon, they would have to leave. But now, she could kiss him. Now he could kiss her.

  She strained toward him, conscious of an odd energy moving through her. Her long stays dug awkwardly into her shift, and she jerked back.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “My dress is uncomfortable. My stays...”

  A salacious grin appeared on Rupert’s face. “I’m certain it’s possible to remove them from them.”

  Her eyes widened.

  He smiled. “If you would like.”

  “That would be naughty.”

  “I think,” Rupert said, “that various things have been naughty.”

  “Perhaps,” Aria agreed, and her lips soared upward, even though she’d had several governesses who expressed the importance of not ever being naughty.

  “I’m going to Sweden soon,” she said.

  “I don’t like that.”

  “I don’t like that either,” she said, then hastily added, “but I think I would like to be a bit naughty beforehand.”

  “Very well, Your Highness.” His voice rumbled pleasingly in her ear, then he unbuttoned her dress. Her spine prickled in anticipation.

  She should be frightened. She was alone with a man. And yet, her only emotion was eagerness to be near him. Her body seemed to have decided that it desired to be pressed as close to him as possible.

  “Faster,” she pleaded.

  “Very well.” He finished unbuttoning her dress, then lowered it to the ground.

  RUPERT STARED AS ARIA stepped from her dress. He gathered it reverently and placed it on the opposite seat.

  “Don’t sit on it,” he told Lady Octavia and Galileo.

  Aria giggled. “I have no desire to ever wear that dress again.”

  “I suppose it comes with bad memories,” he said.

  She shrugged. “Not all the memories associated with it were bad.”

  His breath caught.

  “Those stays do look tight,” he said.

  “It’s not your first time inspecting women’s stays, is it?” she asked.

  He sobered. “There was one woman. I thought we might marry.”

  “But it didn’t happen?”

  He shook his head. “She had a better offer.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently.

  “I’m not a wealthy man,” he said.

  “Most men aren’t,” she said and settled back on his lap, “most men aren’t also as kind and intelligent as you.”

  “No?”

  She grinned. “And I’m absolutely certain they can’t all be as good at kissing.”

  He chuckled. “Would you like more kisses?”

  She nodded, and her eyes shimmered.

  And then there was much kissing. He claimed her mouth with his, moving his hands urgently over her body and squeezing her in his arms. He undid her stays as they kissed, and then she flung them on top of her discarded dress.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured again, and he moved his mouth from her lips to her shoulder, to her collar bone, to her bosom...

  She moaned in his arms, and he ran his fingers over the curve of her breasts.

  “Please,” she murmured. “Please...”

  He lowered her shift. The movement was easy now, without her stays.

  For a moment, he simply stared at the delicious, rounded peaks that spilled from her shift. Her breasts were firm and magnificent and ever so succulent. They gleamed in the light.

  Yearning shot through him. He craved her. He longed for her. His manhood ached. It may as well have been formed entirely of stone.

  “May I touch them?” he asked.

  She nodded. He pulled her onto his lap, clasping his arms about her tiny waist. Then he feathered kisses over her luscious peaks.

  She moaned against him.

  “Do you like this?” He brushed his fingers lightly against her dusky crests, so they pebbled beneath his touch, forming tiny rock-like points.

  She jerked her head hastily. He smiled, then nibbled on her delicious feminine curves. Her breasts were silky, as if they’d been formed of the finest fabric. He caught one in his mouth, and sucked on it, while molding the other with his hands.

  “R-Rupert,” she murmured, her words halting.

  He turned his attention to the other one, licking the succulent silky mound.

  She arched her back, and he raised her shift.

  “Rupert?” Surprise darted her face.

  “I promise this will be nice.” His fingers danced over her lovely, long legs, then he moved his hand up to the soft, silky skin of her inner thigh. He found her delicate center and moved his fingers over her warm satin flesh. “R-rupert,” she said, but this time, only pleasure was in her voice.

  He claimed her lips with his, and their tongues danced as he moved his fingers, faster and faster and faster, over her pulsating core. Finally, her body shook, and she clung to him.

  She gazed at him bleary-eyed. “That was...”

  “Good?”

  She nodded hastily. “Most good.”

  He kissed her forehead.

  She glanced at his swollen member. It strained against his trousers.

  “That looks uncomfortable as well.” She moved her hands to his flaps and unbuttoned them.

  “Y-you needn’t,” she said.

  She tossed her hair and eyed his member curiously. “I’ve seen them on statues, of course. But this is much larger. You’ll need to teach me.”

  He nodded. “Just touch it.”

  She moved her soft fingers over his shaft, and he shuddered. He curled her fingers around his member.

  “Like this?” she murmured.

  Heat shot through him at her words. Aria was touching him. Lovely, wonderful Aria.

  “Er—y-yes,” he grunted. “Just like that.”

  And she did. And it was marvelous.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Rupert was in love.

  Utterly, completely in love.

  His heart had never threatened to soar from his chest before.

  Birds chirped about them as the carriage moved through the verdant countryside. Aria rested her head on his shoulder and slept.

  A few carriages passed by. Rupert smiled at the drivers, and they smiled back. Happiness bounced through him.

  Aria smiled at him, and the whole world was perfect.

  “I want to kiss you again,” he said, his voice husky.

  She didn’t look away, and she didn’t raise her eyebrows. Instead, her eyes shimmered, and she leaned forward.

  The next moment after that, he claimed her lips with his own.

  The sun began its downward descent, and Rupert looked for a public house in which they could rest.

  Finally, a half-timbered
house appeared. Red and pink flowers shimmered from painted flower boxes, and Rupert parked the carriage. A small dog ran around, wagging its tail.

  Galileo began to bark.

  For a moment, Rupert stiffened, remembering their experience at the first public house. A friendly-looking man, though, only gave a broad beam. “Welcome. Your dog is adorable.”

  “Thank you,” Rupert said. “It actually belongs to—er—”

  The man’s gaze drifted to Aria. “Your wife?”

  The word made Rupert’s heart clench. This wasn’t the first time Rupert had said he was married to Aria. They’d decided people were far more likely to welcome a married couple than an unmarried one. It was, though, the first time he’d heard her referred to as his wife.

  If only...

  If only she was his wife. If only they were exactly what they appeared: a quite normal married couple visiting London.

  He nodded.

  “Are you eating, or would you like a room?” the man asked.

  “The pets are no problem?”

  “We love pets here,” the man said.

  Rupert smiled. “Then we will spend the night.”

  He woke Aria up gently, and they walked inside with Galileo and Lady Octavia.

  The public house did not look busy.

  “Have a seat,” Rupert said, gesturing to a comfortable bench decorated with pillows, and Aria did so.

  Rupert approached the barmaid. “We’d like your very best room,” Rupert said.

  The barmaid raised her eyebrows. “Indeed?”

  Rupert nodded, and he had the horrible sense he was smiling far too much than the action of procuring a room necessitated.

  Still.

  Happiness rang through him. He would be spending the night with Aria. And even if they did nothing more than sleep, she would be beside him.

  “Well, luckily, we do have our best room available,” the barmaid said.

  “Splendid.” Rupert glanced toward the people eating, then turned back to her. “We would like to eat something first.”

  She nodded. “Very well.”

  “But perhaps—” He hesitated.

  She leaned toward him.

  “Perhaps we could make certain the room is exceptionally nice,” Rupert said finally.

  “I’m not recleaning it.” The barmaid crossed her arms. “It’s already my least favorite task.”

  She wrinkled her nose, as if to emphasize her distaste.

  “No, no,” Rupert said. “I was actually thinking about...flowers.”

  The barmaid burst into a wide grin. “You are romantic.” She leaned closer. “Is she beautiful?”

  Rupert nodded, his smile widening.

  “I will sprinkle flower petals around the room,” the barmaid promised.

  Rupert smiled. “Thank you.”

  Aria and he ate dinner.

  “How far are we from London?” Aria asked.

  “We should be there in three more days,” Rupert said.

  Aria tilted her head. “How many nights?”

  “Two.” She nodded, but there was a certain somberness to it.

  He took her hands in his. “I would take you to Gretna Green if I could.”

  “It’s not destined,” she said softly. “Let’s enjoy the remainder of our time together.”

  Rupert nodded.

  Finally, they finished eating. The barmaid handed him the key to their room and winked.

  They strode upstairs, then Rupert entered the room.

  Someone was here. Rupert’s heartbeat quickened, but the sound of heavy breathing was unmistakable.

  Perhaps it was someone from the tavern.

  “Who is this?” Rupert called out.

  No maid chirped a cheerful response.

  But then what maid would stand in darkness?

  Had someone figured out where they were? The duke.

  Tension moved through Rupert. It must be the duke or one of his minions.

  “We’re not alone,” he whispered.

  Aria widened her eyes.

  Rupert needed to be brave for her. He opened the door again, so light drifted through it and grabbed a nearby candlestick.

  Once he saw the man, he quivered. A candlestick might not be sufficient defense. The man loomed, his large size not obscured even by the shadows.

  Galileo wagged his tail, his tongue hanging out in a joyful way as if he were about to get fed, and not as if he risked seeing his mistress be murdered. Lady Octavia let out a far more appropriate hiss. Rupert would have to remember to give her extra fish tomorrow.

  If he survived.

  The shadow lumbered toward him, and hairs he didn’t know he had on his back prickled.

  “Stay away!” He shoved Aria from the room.

  Heavy footsteps thundered toward him, matching the ever-quickening beats of his heart.

  Someone was definitely here.

  Someone who shouldn’t be here.

  It wasn’t the duke. The duke did not match this stranger’s muscularity. Perhaps the duke had hired someone to find him.

  Galileo continued to bark. Oddly, the barks seemed...cheerful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Demon?” Aria asked.

  Rupert halted.

  “Princess,” the bulky man said, and Rupert lowered his candlestick.

  None of the duke’s men spoke in Swedish accents.

  Aria threw her arms around the man and hugged him tightly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Demon. I was just so happy to see you. I thought a horrible man was inside.”

  “I am a horrible man,” Demon said stiffly.

  “Er—right.” Aria glanced at Rupert. “This is my former bodyguard. He killed many people during the war.”

  “I see,” Rupert said, eying the burly man. “Did you kill them with your bare hands?”

  Demon glowered. “The Swedish army provides its warriors with weapons.”

  “Right, of course,” Rupert said.

  Demon narrowed his eyes. “You must not be very intelligent if you think otherwise.”

  “I—er—didn’t mean to imply that.”

  Demon glanced at the princess. “Sometimes people think people are intelligent just because they wear spectacles, but it’s not always connected.”

  “Very astute of you,” Rupert said.

  Demon blinked. “Astute?”

  “W-wise,” Rupert said hastily, “it’s really not important. I just meant that your hands looked like they could kill someone without any equipment.”

  Demon beamed and held his hands up in the air. “Oh, yes. That is true. I could kill you with my bare hands. That’s what I was going to do.”

  Rupert’s stomach tightened.

  Demon narrowed his eyebrows. “But what are you doing alone with the princess?”

  Rupert’s stomach tightened further, as if a boa constrictor had sneaked into the room and decided the absolute best thing in the world to do was to wrap itself around Rupert’s waist.

  Rupert swallowed hard.

  “Answer me.” Demon banged his fist on a sideboard, and the collection of clashing knickknacks that the landlady had placed there either in a mistaken attempt to make the room appear cozier, or perhaps simply to torture the maid tasked with dusting, rattled.

  “I—er—” Rupert was certain he did know how to speak. Even though he’d been shy as a child, there had never been an actual issue with his vocal cords—just a general self-consciousness about using them. But now, his throat closed.

  Oh, no.

  Please don’t have an attack.

  He was suddenly very aware of Demon’s nearness to him. The man emitted a not particularly pleasant scent, as if he’d recently feasted on a meat pie generously laden with onions. Rupert stepped away.

  “Where are you going?” Demon barked and clasped Rupert’s wrist with his hand.

  If the man wanted another career, he could simply hire himself out as human manacles. No prisoner would be able to escape.

  “I—
I” Rupert pointed at his throat.

  “Let him go, Demon.” An icy edge was in the princess’s voice.

  Rupert’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t want the princess to have to rescue him. He was supposed to be taking care of her. He moved hastily toward the window. The princess didn’t join him, staying near Demon. Rupert’s shoulders eased.

  The attack didn’t come. Rupert continued to breathe in regular intervals.

  He would be fine. He smiled and glanced toward Aria.

  She was engaged in a conversation with Demon, and Rupert’s shoulders slumped. It seemed foolish to imagine he could ever have imagined a night with Aria.

  The flowers he’d asked the landlady to put in the room suddenly seemed unimpressive, the colors pale and unmemorable compared to the vibrant roses he found in the gardens of manor houses and palaces. Aria was accustomed to a palace.

  The room hardly resembled that of a palace: there was no painted ceiling, with cherubs and seraphs peering at the rest of the world in joyous awe. There were no fluffy clouds, and no cerulean sky. There was no ornate crown molding, and no luxurious chaise-longue in which to recline.

  No, there was only a single creaking chair; Rupert wondered whether it had been used by a maid to reach the higher parts of the room to clean. The princess deserved so much better. Even her bodyguard knew it, and he was flummoxed by much else.

  “Were you searching for us?” Rupert asked.

  “Does my father know?” the princess asked.

  Demon shrugged. “No. I just told him I wanted to ride by myself on horseback and would meet him in London. There’s a ship that leaves on Tuesday.”

  “But why?”

  Demon sighed. “I had a feeling something was wrong.” He jerked his thumb at Rupert. “I saw him trying to break through a room in the castle to speak to you. I needed to know you were safe.”

  Aria blinked, and Rupert’s face reddened.

  “I encountered Demon before the wedding,” Rupert said.

  “Oh.” The princess’s face fell. Perhaps she was thinking of what may have happened if she had heard from Rupert before the wedding. Would she still have married the duke? Might she be a free woman now?

  “When I returned to the castle, they told me you were gone. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

  “Are you there more people looking?”