A Scandalous Love for the Enticing Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Henrietta Harding

  “I am afraid I do not know what you speak of, My Lord.” The use of a title had been deliberate, and when she saw him cock his brow, she knew she had been successful in passing her message across. Perhaps, not so successful for before she knew it, a big grin stole across his lips, revealing a perfect set of dentition. Then what she had feared happened, he shifted closer.

  “You do not know what I speak of? That kiss we thoroughly delighted in at the McCaulays’ library?”

  Instantly, a memory flashed through her mind, her lips pressed against Nicholas as she let him ravish her. Still, she denied. “What kiss?”

  “Your memory fails you still? Well, allow me to remind you. I do believe it began with me rendering you utterly speechless and ended with you running away from this thing between us.”

  Oh, she could remember. She could remember quite too well. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She looked away for she could bear to look anywhere but at him. Those thunderclouds would pull her in again, just like his words were slowly doing, and soon, she would lose every sense of reasoning. “Mayhap, my memory has just begun to serve me well. Although, it remains foggy – as it should, My Lord. I have erased that event from my memory, and I would you did too. We must forget it ever happened if we must move on with our lives.”

  “But how can I, My Lady? How can I when it’s been in my head like a festering plague ever since it happened. I have been able to think of little else.”

  He shifted, moving closer to her, and her breath itched. She did not want to have him any closer. Could not stand the way he appealed to her senses. Yet, she knew that when Nicholas was on a mission, there was no stopping him. Now, she wished she had let him go out her window in the first place.

  “Do not say those words to me, Nicholas. You seemed to have had plenty of time to plan your proposal and pick out gifts for your fiancée.” She had to remember that, constantly, tirelessly. He had made his choice, and it had not been her.

  “Back to Nicholas, are we? Yes. I declare that that is much better. As for the matter of my engagement to Agnes, believe me, Eleanor, if I truly had a choice, I would have chosen you a thousand times over. The matter is out of my hands. You must trust it.”

  “You speak things of deceit. We all have choices. You are a man – if you insisted on whom you claim your heart prefers, no one would refuse your desires. However, that is beside the point. My sister has been unmarried for too long. If she has agreed to marry you, then she must feel something for you. I wish to see her happy. No matter how much I hurt, I must give my blessings and respect your union.”

  He was already so close to her, so close that he only had to reach out and cradle her cheeks with his right hand. As he stroked her soft flesh with his thumb, the dryness she had felt on her lips moved to her throat, beyond that, her body burned all over, especially where he touched. Her stomach warmed, feeling all fluttery like she had butterflies in it. Her heart thudded steadily against her ribcage. She was held captive by his eyes, weak against his touch. What was it about this man that affected her so? He sighed, and again, she tore her eyes away.

  “You care for your sister, Eleanor, and I admire that, greatly. However, you must not think that Agnes has taken a fancy to me. I have seen the look of love in enough eyes to know what it is akin to. Your sister is not smitten, at least not by me. I have a feeling neither of us are terribly pleased by this engagement, but we must go through with it. I speak no lies, Eleanor, and I have a feeling you know that. My father lies on his deathbed, and his only wish is that I marry the eldest Birmingham daughter.”

  Upon hearing the news of his father, she gasped, returning her gaze to his. She had no idea. Given, she did not k now the Duke so well, but he had looked just fine when she met him at the Fortham ball. Her heart instantly went out to Nicholas. She never could ask him to go against a dying man’s wishes.

  “Now you see why I must do this?”

  She bobbed her head as she reached for the hand which was still on her left cheek. She palmed it with hers, empathising with his pain. “I do. Nicholas, I apologise. I am so sorry. I had no idea.” He gave her a sad smile, and she ached for him.

  “We are choosing to have hope. He may yet pull through this; nevertheless, if he doesn’t …”

  “You have to fulfil his wishes, anyway.”

  “Precisely. Now, you understand, do you not? I pray thee, do not consider for a moment that I speak lies when I profess my feelings for you. Here.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest. She did nothing, only listened as she felt his beating heart against her hand. It was powerful, and it beat wildly, having no rhythm, just like hers did any time he was around. In the still of the night, in this dead silence, she could hear its music. Awed, she pressed her hand closer, and he released his grip on it. He could not make this up. So, she truly affected him so? She looked up at him, her astonishment written all over her face.

  “Feel what you do to me, Eleanor. Feel it. Only you can do this to me, only you. I am falling in love with you, Eleanor. There is nothing to be done about it. I cannot help myself. Every moment I am with you, I never want to leave. I only want to do this.”

  His eyes fell to her lips, and hers fell to his. He moved closer, and everything stilled. She knew what was to come, and despite how wrong she knew this was, she could not bring herself to not want it. At the very least, she could try to stop him, a voice whispered in her head. It was right. Finding her voice before her resolve totally weakened, she croaked out, “Don’t. We mustn’t.” It was a weak plea, barely a whisper, and she knew she had lost this war before it begun. She had lost it since she saw him by her window, since her heart melted upon finding out he had gone through all that trouble for her.

  He was so much closer now. So close that only her hand divided their chests. His breath fanned her face as he searched her eyes, seeing her truth.

  “Just one word, Eleanor. If you asked me to stop, I would, right this moment and leave.”

  This was it – this was her way out. If she asked for him to stop, he would. He would leave and hopefully would never bother her again. She opened her mouth to say the magic word but surprised herself.

  “We shouldn’t.”

  “That is not an answer to my question, Eleanor.” She began to say something else, but it was lost because in a flash, Nicholas bent his head and captured her lips in another toe-curling, mind muddling kiss.

  His kiss rendered her immobile for spilt seconds, and she gave in totally to the sensations it caused her, as her eyes fluttered closed. His hands moved to the knot at the base of her neck and tugged at it. Her hair suddenly came free. Surprised that he would take such liberty, she gasped, but he only took it as an invitation. Like the last time, his tongue swept into her mouth, tangling with hers. At the taste of it, a sense of satisfaction sizzled through her, and she relished in the feeling. He moved with intent skilfulness as though he searched for treasures in the hidden contours of her mouth. Every time their tongues met, a tremor ran through her, causing her to instantly crave more. His hand pushed into her hair and began to massage her scalp. It felt good, so good that her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and when a moan escaped her lips, she scarcely recognised the voice as hers.

  Oh but he could kiss! He was taking as though she was his to take, his to possess. His lips nibbled at hers, driving her wild with the influx of sensations. When his teeth grazed her lips, another tremor sizzled through her. A sudden desperate need to take as much as he was taking overcame her, and she moved her hands to his neck. They instinctively went around there, and once they were locked safely behind him, she pulled him into her and plunged her tongue into his sweet haven. Recalling what he had done to her, she nibbled his lips and took a bite. An inhuman growl came from him, startling her. She moved to pull away, but he kept her in place, deepening the kiss. It told her one thing – he had liked it. The knowledge that she had given him pleasure made her dizzy with delight at her newfound power. This was only her second kiss, bu
t under the expert tutelage of Nicholas, she knew she could not perform so badly. So she too took as he did, forgetting everything else. He was in her senses, in every pore of her body, in the pool of sensations settling in her belly, in the throbbing ache she felt between her legs. It was all Nicholas, only him.

  Soon, he was lowering her on her bed, and she went, unable to find it in her to resist anything more at this moment. As her back touched the sturdy surface, he tore his lips from hers, and she gave a cry of protest. Then he began to trail kisses down her neck, and the cry changed to that of pleasure, immense pleasure. Everywhere his lips touched crackled, and she swiftly began to feel damp down there, between her legs, that place where only her hands had ever been. Her nipples pebbled and rasped against the thin fabric of her night dress. What was this? The books she had read never said it would feel this way. All she knew was that she wanted more.

  “Nicholas …” came her throaty plea which he replied by returning to her lips. She welcomed him, lifting her head to receive his sweet nectar. Then she felt his hand begin to wander. As they palmed her sides, she began to squirm, needing to feel his touch everywhere. His hands found a way to her waist and circled it. Who knew that part of her was so sensitive? she thought as the air hung in the back of her throat. Her body was waiting for something. Her nipples hurt from being so hard. It felt as though they were in need of attention. Slowly, his hands began to climb up, skimming past her ribs until they came to cup her breast and squeeze. She trembled as she became unhinged. It felt as though something had been released inside of her, and she arched her back, pushing her bosom further into his hands. His lips left her again and began to trail kisses down her neck.

  He paused as he reached the hollow before her collarbone and began to suckle. Her senses deluded her as a thousand energy sparks exploded in her veins. “Oh my …’ she moaned, wanting more of this goodness, this ethereal feeling he was causing her. She was too far gone, she knew this. she could only concentrate on him. Her head seemed to have gone on vacation for it thought no tangible thought. She heard a rip, and she wondered what that was, until she felt the cool night air on her bare bosom.

  “Nicholas!” she gasped, jerking up, but he soon shut her when she felt his cool lips close over her nipple. Her back arched of its own free will, and she gave a loud cry as her breast went further into his mouth. Was this even sensible? Why would a grown man be sucking the bosom of a grown lady, such as herself? Oh, but it felt so good, so good. The ache she had felt in her nipples suddenly vanished under the lavish attention of his mouth. He suckled and licked, as his other hands consoled the neglected twin, squeezing as though he intended to draw milk forth. Her body was on fire. Not only was her back acting of its own volition, her hips suddenly grew a mind of their own and began to raise towards him, searching for contact, desperately needing to feel his loins against hers.

  “Goodness. What are you doing to me, Nicholas?”

  He tore his mouth away from the first and moved to the neglected twin. Her breast felt sore, yet, it mourned the loss of his mouth.“I’m worshipping you, Eleanor. My sweet, sweet goddess. Please, let me. I pray thee, for I fear I shall burn from this fire that has been lit up within me.”

  He resumed his administrations, and she wondered aloud at his words. “You feel it too? Oh well. It feels as though I would erupt in flames this minute and the next; I am getting impossibly hotter. What is this?”

  “Shh. Be quiet and enjoy this, Eleanor. Moan, cry, bend your back for me, but no more words.”

  “Oh …” was all she said. Then, she felt his hands begin to wander again. Her legs were bent by her knees now and wide open so that he laid between them. She pondered on when she had taken that position. No one ever told her lovemaking came with losing control of your body. It was rather discomforting to think of. That thought flew out of her head as she felt his hands on her naked thigh. No doubt, her night dress now bunched up around her waist, must have fallen when she raised her hips. Slowly, he circled her thigh and began to trail a path up her insides. The pool of sensation in her stomach rose and fell, then began to move downwards to her core which pulsed greatly, throbbing against her undergarments.

  Higher, his hands inched, and she shivered, as a wave of cold travelled down her spine. She began to squirm again, adjusting so that she would go to meet him, offer him that place his hand sought, calm this raging need in her blood. His mouth tugged at her bud, pulled and grazed with his teeth, while his hand squeezed. Something came free inside of her, and a cry built up in her belly and travelled all the way to her lips until she birthed it. It rang through the quiet night, filling her room as she shook from her release.

  “That’s it. Let go … for me, love.”

  Slowly, his hands reached her V and cupped it. She buckled then and her back fell to the bed as another moan escaped her lips. It felt so wonderful, as though that was what she had been waiting for, and she never wanted his hands to leave that place. Needing to feel his body, her hands too, began to wonder. She reached for his frame and wrapped her arms around his solid body, drawing him closer to her, wanting to feel him, needing to. She heard his sharp intake of breath as her fingers grazed his naked throat. In a flash, he seized those wandering arms and had them locked over her head. Then, he tore his mouth away and rose on his knees so that he would look her in the eye. She held his gaze, mesmerised by the thunderclouds that had gone almost black, like the raging storm. He looked even more handsome – Isabelle would say like the Devil. She agreed. His hair dishevelled, his face sweaty, and his breath fanning over her as he panted. This intimacy, this moment, so intense. Now she knew what the fuss was about. When he spoke, his voice hard with a note of sweet warning, she felt liquid trickle out of her centre, and she squirmed again. Voluntarily, her hips hitched up, and when she touched his groin with her pelvic centre, he drew in another sharp breath. His eyes closed for a fleeting moment, and he quickly withdrew, yet he kept her hands in bondage. She searched his eyes as they opened again, confusion in hers. Had she caused him pain?

  “This is going to end entirely differently than I plan if you cannot keep your hands to yourself. And that thing you just did, I am going to lose control, if you did again. Please, Eleanor. There is only so much a man can bear.” His voice was husky, his breathing ragged and fear plagued her hands. She moved to cup his cheeks but remembered her bound hands.

  “My apologies. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

  His eyes widened in surprise, then he swooped down and captured her lips in a wild kiss. She was lost. This was so fierce, so fast that she did not know how to keep up, even if she tried. It ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving her confused. What was happening?”

  “You are not hurting me, love. It’s only too sweet for me to bear. Today, I pleasure you, not the other way around.”

  Although she did not fully understand, she nodded, her attention taken away by his hands which now moved between her. He held her eyes, her hands locked above her head, and she suddenly forgot how to breathe. Slowly, he parted her undergarments, her night dress, every piece of clothing which laid between them, until she was gloriously bare before him. The moment she felt his palm against her bare feminine folds, something flipped in her stomach, and she gasped.

  His lips curved up in a smirk, and she felt his fingers begin to search as they parted her sleek, damp folds. A tremor ran through her body, and she trembled, releasing her breaths in broken streams. Then he began to rub, and she lost every bit of inhibition. Her lips formed an O, and her moans came out strangled, sounding strangled, even to her own ears. She wiggled, and before she knew it, she began to rub herself against his fingers. Their eye contact held, intensifying the moment.

  Suddenly, he found her entrance and began to tease. As he did, an ache settled deep within, and she began to crave for more. What exactly it was, she had no idea. The pressure that had begun to build within her, grew, higher, stronger, as though it reached for something. His finger stopped circli
ng her entrance then, and poised in front of it, seeking permission for passage. She saw the question in his eyes, and though she did not fully understand it, she nodded still. Her head only seemed capable of vertical movement. The moment his finger speared through her, into her moist heat, she shut her eyes tightly and threw back her head.