When a Duke Loves a Woman

by Lorraine Heath

  “Drunkards say the naughtiest things sometimes.”

  “If they said that to your face, I do hope you plowed a fist into them.”

  “I don’t hold drunkards accountable for their words.”

  He would if he ever heard anyone say something so inappropriate to her, a woman with whom he was now intimate. Incredibly intimate. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel her breasts in his hands, hear her cries of pleasure echoing around him. He’d known she’d be fierce when it came to lovemaking, would pour her entirety into it just as she poured all that she was into every aspect of her life.

  Sitting up with her hip against his, gently, tenderly, she leaned over and kissed the puckered scar at his shoulder. “Is it hurting?” she asked.

  It ached, but then it always did. He feared it always would. “No.”

  She rolled her thumb and forefinger around his nipples until they hardened into little balls. “I didn’t wash these,” she said. “It seemed too intimate. I shall wash them now.”

  His entire body grew taut as she lapped at the brown discs as though they contained cream and she were a cat intent on sipping every last drop. His growl rumbled from deep within his chest, and he caught sight of her secretive smile. Dear Lord, but she touched him in more ways than he could count, touched parts of him deep inside he hadn’t even known existed.

  Pushing herself up, she took a leisurely perusal of his body, from his messed hair to his feet, and he wondered where she might go next.

  She chose his thigh, to the scar there. Then through half-lowered lids she looked at him very much as he suspected he’d gazed at her when he’d been nestled intimately between her thighs. No, he hadn’t looked at her like that at all, not saucily, not wickedly, not so temptingly.

  She wrapped her hand around his cock. It jumped. He jumped. Stealthily she inched forward, all the while holding his gaze as though daring him not to look away, holding him captive as effectively as if she’d bound him in irons. She ran her tongue around her lips until they glistened with dewy dampness. He grew so tense his muscles began to ache.

  Lowering her head, she kissed the tip of his cock, then lapped at the dew that had gathered there.

  “Christ!” He made a move to sit up. Her hand shot up, her fingers splayed against his chest, stopping him. Using little more than her brown-green eyes, she issued her command and pressed him back down. “Gillie—”

  “Shh. My turn.”

  Using her tongue, she stroked the full length of the underside, and he feared he might embarrass himself by spilling his seed then and there. She closed her mouth around him and the heat spread throughout his entire body.

  Oh, yes, she was a quick learner, his princess. She tormented him with flicks of her tongue, swirls, long slow strokes. If he hadn’t gone ages without a woman he might have been able to last longer. If she weren’t the one doing these incredible things to him, if he didn’t have a need to possess her so desperately, perhaps he could have lasted longer. But he wanted her fully, completely, absolutely. He needed her as he’d never needed or wanted anything in his entire life.

  “Gillie,” he repeated, closing his hands around her arms. “Do your damage another way. Straddle me, take me deep within you.”

  Thank God, she did as he bid, placing her knees on either side of his hips, taking hold of his aching and throbbing cock, and positioning it at her opening. Closing her eyes, she enveloped him. When he encountered her barrier, he grabbed her hips, thrust his own. Her small cry tore at his heart. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head and sank farther down until she’d taken him to the hilt. “You feel so good. I understand now why people sin.”

  “This isn’t a sin, Gillie. Not when the yearning and desire are so great.” He’d almost used the word love, but the thought of loving her this deeply, this desperately terrified him and he couldn’t give voice to his feelings. All he knew was that no one had ever touched his heart and soul as she did. No one had ever mattered as much as she did. He, who had thought himself incapable of love, was floundering with the knowledge she made him question all he’d ever known about himself.

  Cradling her hips between his hands, he guided her as she began to ride him, meeting his thrusts, rocking against him. He watched the wonder spread over her features, could feel the tightening of her muscles around him as their tempo increased into a frenzy, as their gasps and groans filled the air. Clenching him tightly, she cried out her release. As gently, but as quickly as he could, he lifted her off him as his own release tore through him, rocking him to his core as he made a vain attempt to roll to his side and spill his seed into his hand. Instead he made a mess of it.

  Pressing her body, against his, she covered his hand with her own. With his free arm, he held her close, wondering if his heart would ever return to a normal speed or if it would always pump with the wild abandon spurred by her nearness.

  Making love was not the tidy thing she’d always thought it to be, and yet as she lounged on the bed, waiting—as he’d instructed—for him to come to her, she couldn’t deny there was something incredibly masculine about him standing at the water basin cleaning himself up. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we simply took another bath?” she asked.

  Chuckling low, he walked over holding a damp washrag. “I haven’t the strength to prepare another bath.”

  Gently, he wiped the area he had earlier licked and the inside of her thighs, tinged with blood. “Did it hurt so terribly?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “There should be less discomfort next time.” Pleasure pierced her with the knowledge they would have another coming together. When he was finished, they changed the sheets, then snuggled beneath them, holding each other close.

  “How long will you stay?” she asked.

  “I’ll leave before dawn. We don’t want anyone seeing me making my escape.” Tucking his knuckles beneath her chin, he held her gaze. “Unless you’d like me to leave sooner, although I’d very much like to sleep with you in my arms.”

  She nodded, snuggling more solidly into him. She loved the smell of his warm skin. “I’d like that as well.”

  With his arm around her, he stroked her arm while she lazily drew small circles on his chest.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.

  “Second, third, and fourth, but all good thoughts.”

  “I want you to know I do respect you.”

  “No, you don’t. You whisper in my ear.”

  He chuckled low. “You have such a lovely ear into which to whisper.”

  “I never wanted this before, Thorne, before you. Why are you so different, I wonder?”

  “Because I’m a duke.”

  “That has nothing at all to do with it. I don’t care one whit about your title. It’s other things. Your kindness to Robin, for instance.”

  “I was thinking of paying his tuition at a boarding school.”

  Rising up on an elbow, she looked down at him, studied him. “Why?”

  “Because he’s a sharp lad. He’d go far.”

  “He’d only run off. He believes if he stays here, his mother will find him. I think he believes she’s a fairy.”

  “Where would he have gotten that notion, I wonder.”

  She eased back down and burrowed against him. “Probably from the whimsical tales I wove when he would awaken from a bad dream, tales my mum would tell me when I was a child and sleep would not come.”

  “Perhaps I’ll fund a school nearby. More children would benefit from that, wouldn’t they?”

  “You’re a good man.”

  “Not so good. I’m six and thirty, and never before gave much thought to those less fortunate than I. I had more pressing matters on my mind: a fast yacht, a fast horse, fast women. Sometime, when you’re of a mind, I’ll take you to France on my fast yacht and we’ll visit all those vineyards.”

  She couldn’t imagine it, doubted they would ever do that, was well aware of her place in his life, what she was t
o him, and if he were more to her, she suspected she was not the first woman to have reached for and caught something she could never hold forever. He needed a woman who could stand beside him as his duchess. Duchesses did not own taverns. Still, it was a lovely fantasy and she said, “I’ll feed you grapes from the vines.”

  “And I shall lick the juice from your fingers.”

  She wanted that more than she’d ever wanted anything, but realist that she was, she knew it would never come to pass.

  Awakening with Gillie in his arms had been one of the more satisfying starts to his day that he’d ever experienced. She was an enthusiastic lover, eager to welcome him into her body—her hot, sweet, tight canal. He’d have luxuriated in her bed all day, but the practical woman had a business to run, so he’d left her while the fog was still thick and the moon still looking down.

  By the time he strode into his residence, he was famished and the sun was making an appearance, but rather than risk dealing with his mother, who could already be up, and taking a chance on the ruination of his good mood, he ordered a servant to deliver a tray of food to his chambers.

  Once his valet had tidied him up for the day, he enjoyed a leisurely meal in his sitting area, reading the newspaper, imagining how much more satisfying it would be to have Gillie sitting there with him, sipping her tea, reading her own newspaper.

  When the knock sounded, he glanced at the clock and realized he’d spent nearly an hour sitting there and visualizing her in this room. Not that he’d ever have her in this chamber while his mother resided here. He could imagine the turmoil that would cause and the misery his mother would deliver to the woman he loved.

  That thought nearly had him careening out of the chair. He loved her, loved Gillie. He who had never loved, loved at last. That he was even capable of such intense emotion came as a bit of a revelation. He wanted to throw open all the windows and shout it out to the world—

  But he couldn’t even tell her, because it would be unfair to her, to him, to them. He could have her here in this bed, in this chamber, but he could not have her as his duchess. He could not ask her to give up the tavern which meant so much to her. He could not take her from all she knew, all the people who would stand beside her and threaten him if he did wrong by her. He couldn’t bring her into this world that failed to bring him the barest hint of joy.

  Although he had little doubt she could hold her own among the ton, at least when it came to socializing. She had an innate grace and confidence that made her any lady’s equal. Her speech patterns would mark her as not having been raised among the aristocracy, yet the ease with which she managed to carry on conversations would see her in good stead. She would charm and delight those who would give her a chance, just as she charmed and delighted him at every turn. It was a pity the origins of her birth would prevent those he knew from having the opportunity to spend time in her company.

  The knock again resounded, a bit louder and more insistent.

  “Enter.”

  His mother swept in as though pushed by a gale force wind. He shoved himself to his feet as she came to stand before him, her back erect, her hands clasped before her.

  “I saw your announcement in the Times regarding the end of your betrothal.”

  He’d placed an advert in yesterday’s edition, so proclaiming. It had been short and sweet, indicating a mutual understanding and agreement between all parties involved that a wedding between the Duke of Thornley and Lady Lavinia Kent would not take place. “I wanted to ensure no fingers were pointed or blame was assigned.”

  “What you have ensured is that the nattering gossips shall have a field day. You must show people you are not the wounded party and are quite ready to move on. You have made it more imperative than ever that you select a wife as quickly as possible. Therefore, I have set a date for the ball, two weeks hence. Invitations went out this morning.”

  He wanted to groan in frustration at her meddling. Instead, he merely said calmly, “Good Lord, the printer must have worked all night.”

  “I am a duchess. Of course he did, and he was glad to do so.”

  He couldn’t imagine Gillie inconveniencing someone like that.

  “I have invited the families with the most eligible girls,” she continued. “It will be a small affair, as it has a singular purpose: to ensure you find yourself a bride worthy of your position and in short order.”

  “I am not yet ready to see to the task.”

  “Make yourself ready. People are laughing at you, wondering what faults Lady Lavinia found with you to leave you as she did.”

  “I stated clearly no one was at fault.”

  “Do you think anyone believes you? What you have done is given fodder to those who would see us fall. Situations such as this are best handled by women, so I am taking the matter in hand. I know we seldom agree but do not fight me on this. You have a duty, an obligation, a responsibility to those who have come before you.”

  “Already, you have made them all, every eligible lady, seem so appealing,” he said caustically, hoping she would catch the sarcasm.

  “If you are to have any hope at all of having an heir, you must see to it immediately, as you are developing your father’s habits of staying out all night. I am well versed in where that leads.”

  “I’m old enough, Mother, to live my life without being chastised for it. I believe it’s past time for you to move into the dower house.”

  She jerked her head back as though he’d delivered a blow. “I cannot possibly do that until there is another lady in residence to manage things. Servants will grow lazy without a firm hand. I shall not allow a residence in shambles to be passed on to your new wife. It is a matter of pride.”

  Pride. Always so much pride in this family.

  Although she did have the right of it. He was at an age where he needed to marry and provide an heir. Whether or not he wished to. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave a curt nod. “I will attend the ball on one condition. You will invite Miss Gillian Trewlove.”

  “Who is her family?”

  “Lady Aslyn married her brother. You should invite them as well, if you have not already.”

  “Lady Aslyn married a commoner, a by-blow.”

  “Thus you shall have the distinction of being the first to have them at a ball.” He had little doubt his mother knew exactly where to find Lady Aslyn. “You may send Gillie’s invitation care of the Mermaid and Unicorn tavern.”

  She turned up her nose. “A tavern-serving wench?”

  “The tavern owner.”

  “I can’t possibly—”

  “Then you will have a ball with no Duke of Thornley in attendance.” He didn’t know why it was suddenly so important for Gillie to be there. Perhaps he wanted to test the waters, to see if she might enjoy swimming in them. But even if she did, she wouldn’t give up her tavern for him, nor should she.

  “You are going to make a fool of yourself.”

  “I am going to introduce someone incredibly lovely to my friends and acquaintances. A good many would benefit from knowing her. If you give her half a chance, I daresay you would like her.”

  “I cannot imagine it, but I will not embarrass this family further by canceling a ball after already canceling a wedding. The invitations you’ve requested will be placed in the post tomorrow.”

  “On second thought, give me Miss Trewlove’s and I’ll deliver it personally.”

  “I daresay, you will rue the day you brought her into this residence.”

  “You will treat her kindly, Mother, and you will show her respect or you will find my patience with you to be at an end.”

  She stormed from the room. He walked to the bureau, pulled open a drawer, and removed a tattered shirt. Returning to his chair, he skimmed his fingers over the tidy and delicate stitching, holding together cloth that had once been shorn by a knife blade going into his shoulder. She’d done more than mend his clothes. She had somehow managed to mend him when he hadn’t even realized he was in need
of mending.

  The moment he walked through the door of the Mermaid, she seriously considered closing up shop. Normally she loved every minute of her time inside the tavern, whether she was serving drinks or talking with customers or ordering people about. But now all she desired was time with Thorne. Perhaps she would invite him to join her in the cellar to select a sherry. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at that thought.

  Instead of going to a table, he came to her. “I see your man is back tonight.”

  She knew he was referring to the barman who’d not shown the previous night, but in a giddy part of her mind that she hadn’t even known she possessed, she realized he could have been talking about himself as well. Her man. She had a man. She wanted to stand on the counter and shout it to the crowd, but what they shared, what was between them, what had passed between them, was deliciously secret. Reaching into her pocket, she removed a gift for him that had her joyous with anticipation. “Yes. But you’re welcome to assist if you like. I need someone to keep track of the time.”

  Taking his hand, she pressed the cool gold against his palm and closed his fingers over it. Slowly he unfurled them and stared at the timepiece. The awe and wonder on his face caused her chest to tighten and her eyes to sting. Gradually, as though journeying through a maze of memories, he brought his gaze back to hers. “You found it.”

  Her smile so big she feared her jaw might come unhinged, she nodded. “Petey stopped by this afternoon and told me he’d been hearing talk of a fancy timepiece. He had an idea where we might find it. So off we went.”

  “I thought never to see it again.” He opened the cover, looked at the face where the hands marked the passage of time. The proper time as she’d set it earlier and carefully wound it. Tenderly he cradled her face, stroked his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t know how to repay you or Petey for this.”

  “Oh, Thorne, when will you learn that the joy you feel at making someone else happy is payment enough. Although Petey will be getting free meals and beer anytime he wants.”

  “I’m fairly certain whatever fence you got this from did not simply hand it over. I’ve no doubt you paid a pretty penny for it.”