Certainly not selfish, he mused. At least not in a way that was obvious. And if she was trying to manipulate him she wasn’t doing a very good job at it. Shrewdness was a bit harder to detect, but he’d yet to see any evidence of that either. Maybe – just maybe – Caroline was precisely what she appeared to be: a shy, awkward wallflower who liked horses and was frightened of her own shadow.
Her little outburst tonight at the table was the first flash of temper he’d seen. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been aroused by it, which was yet another reason why he’d reacted so vehemently. He’d wanted to halt his desire in its tracks before it had time to fester and grow into something he couldn’t control. Unfortunately, in his determination to keep his heart closed he may have gone just a bit too far in the opposite direction. Maybe what he needed – what they needed – was a course correction.
Not a completely new destination. He’d meant what he said in the dining room. Love was a myth and a fallacy. Love made men weak. Love wasn’t meant for dukes…or their duchesses. But there was a difference between love and civility, and surely he could manage to be civil. If only for as long as it took to put a son in her belly. After that there would be no reason to see her at all except for the occasional social outing.
He did want to be a good father, but the boy wouldn’t need him right away. And he could always have him brought to Readington Crossing for the summers. Caroline could come as well, he supposed. As long as she remained in her wing and he in his.
And she didn’t complain about his mistress.
It could work, he decided. It would work.
But first he needed to find his wife…and then he needed to bed her.
Chapter Eight
Caroline managed to avoid her husband for the better part of two days. It made her feel cowardly, but what else could she do? The man was as unpredictable as a winter storm.
And she was tired of being left out in the cold.
It was clear they’d entered their marriage with two very different sets of expectations. She’d wanted to find love and he…well, she really hadn’t any idea what he had been hoping to find. So she had been avoiding him all together. A short term solution to a long term problem, but it was the only thing she could think to do after everything else she’d tried had failed.
Miserably.
Sinking lower into her bath, she closed her eyes and released a long, heavy sigh. Warm water lapped at her shoulders, covering her pink skin in frothy white bubbles that smelled of lavender and rosemary, an herbal combination that Anne had assured her would ease the tension in her muscles and help her sleep better.
“Come in,” she said when she heard a soft knock on the door. “I’m almost finished. Could you lay out my nightdress and wrapper? The ivory with the lace, if you please. Do you think I should leave my hair up or take it down?”
“Take it down,” replied a deep, gravelly voice that most certainly did not belong to her maid.
“Oh!” Caroline gasped as her eyes flew open. Eric stood at the foot of the tub with his muscular thighs braced apart and his arms folded across his chest. “You – you shouldn’t be in here. I – I am not dressed,” she hissed, beyond mortified to have been caught in such a helpless position.
“Really?” he drawled. “I hadn’t noticed.” There was a wicked gleam in his eye that she’d never seen before. It sharpened when his gaze raked across the top of the water. “Care for me to join you? The tub looks big enough for two.”
Where in heaven’s name was Anne? Not that the maid would ever dare come into the bedchamber now that the duke was present. Whether Caroline liked it or not (and she definitely did not), she was completely on her own. Just her, her husband, and a handful of rapidly dissipating bubbles.
“No – no,” she managed to sputter when he began to untie his cravat. “I – I do not care for that at all. You – you have to leave! This is completely inappropriate!”
One dark eyebrow shot up. “Of course it’s appropriate. I’m your husband.”
“But I – I don’t know you at all!” she said shrilly.
His hands paused. “You’re right,” he said in a voice that was oddly gentle. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I thought it was time we remedied that.”
“By b-bursting into my bedchamber unannounced?”
His second brow rose to join the first. “I did knock.”
“I thought you were the maid!”
“An honest mistake, I suppose. Towel?” he asked, holding one up.
“I am not getting out of the tub while you’re standing there staring at me,” she said incredulously. Just the sheer thought of having Eric see every inch of her naked body was enough to bring a furious blush to her cheeks. When her mother had told her about marital relations she’d said they were done late at night in the dark under the covers. The wife laid very still beneath her husband and closed her eyes and gritted her teeth and it was all over in a matter of minutes. But she’d never mentioned anything about bathtubs!
“Well you can’t stay in there forever,” the duke said reasonably. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“What do you care if I catch a cold?” she muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest and glaring up at him through damp lashes.
He frowned. “I know I haven’t been very…welcoming to you, Caroline.”
That was the understatement of the century.
“But I can assure you from this point forward I shall endeavor to act more kindly towards you.” He hesitated. “There are…things about my past that you don’t know. Things that have…well, to put it bluntly, have affected how I view marriage. Because of that I’ve treated you unfairly, and I would like to strive towards fostering a better relationship between the two of us.”
“That’s – that’s very considerate of you,” she said, sheer panic raising her voice an octave when she noted that nearly half of the bubbles were gone. “Let’s start tomorrow, shall we?”
“I thought we might start tonight,” he said softly, cool blue eyes drinking in the sight of her wet, glossy skin as she did her best to keep herself covered. “Have you ever been kissed, Caroline?”
“K-k-kissed?” she sputtered.
“Yes. Kissed.” He took one step towards her, then two, and before she quite knew what was happening he’d sat down on the edge of the tub and had his hand in the water, fingers trailing through the bubbles in an absent circle that was creeping dangerously close to her thigh.
“I – I don’t know.” Is the water getting hotter, she thought frantically, or is it just my imagination? Suddenly she felt less like a lady enjoying a calm, relaxing bath and more like a boiled lobster. One about to be devoured by a very hungry duke.
“You don’t know?” he said, amused. “I should hope you would remember. Perhaps it wasn’t done properly.”
“Perhaps not,” she said faintly.
“I’ve always found the prelude to a kiss to be the most important part. You need to not only make your intentions known, but to set the mood.” His eyes, as dark as a stormy sky, slowly traveled over every inch of her wet, quivering body before they settled on her flushed countenance. His mouth curved. “Don’t you agree?”
“What – what are you doing?” she demanded when he rested his forearm on the curved edge of the tub and leaned in close enough for her to smell the muskiness of his cologne, a combination of leather and brandy.
“Setting the mood,” he murmured. His hand dipped below the bubbles and she trembled when she felt his fingers brush against her ankle. He began to caress her calf in long, soothing strokes that made her want to stretch like a cat, but she kept her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “Your skin is soft as rose petals. Tilt your head back, love.”
“What? Why?” Her eyes had begun to drift closed, but they snapped open with newfound awareness when he lightly touched her shoulder, the rough pad of his thumb pressing into the delicate hollow of her collarbone.
“Your head. Tilt it back, if yo
u please. I’d like to kiss you now.” Equal amounts of humor and raw, naked desire flashed across his face. “If that’s all right, of course.”
Her belly clenched tight. “I – I suppose,” she said nervously. “What should I do?”
“Just tilt your head back,” he whispered huskily as his hand slid from her shoulder to the nape of her neck, fingers settling along the rigid lines of her corded muscles, “close your eyes, and enjoy.”
As Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, she became increasingly sensitive to the smallest sounds. The water lapping against her thighs. The rustle of Eric’s clothing. The soft catch of her own breath. Then his mouth was pressing gently against her mouth and she was being kissed. Not the quick, birdish peck Lord Dunmoore had given her once behind a velvet curtain at his sister’s piano recital, but a real, warm, lingering kiss she felt all the way down to the tips of her toes.
It lasted the length of ten thunderous heartbeats before her husband slowly lifted his head and sat back on his haunches. She tried to guess what he was thinking but his expression was guarded, his roguish smile gone.
“Here.” Standing abruptly, he picked up the towel he’d left draped over the foot of the tub and held it out to her. “You’re going to need this.” Then he turned and faced the door, allowing Caroline to emerge from the lukewarm water and quickly dry herself before donning a soft muslin wrapper that clung to the curves of her damp body.
“All right,” she said, self-consciously tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear. The rest of it was pinned to the top of her head in a heavy bundle, leaving the nape of her neck exposed. Candlelight brushed up against her side, revealing the dusky rose of one nipple and the long, elegant silhouette of her thigh. “You can turn around now.”
Eric turned slowly. Almost reluctantly. His face was cast in shadow, making it impossible for her to decipher what he was thinking. What he was feeling. Then his chin lifted, and his eyes met hers, and the heat in his gaze was so staggering that she felt the blaze of it all the way across the room.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
It was not a compliment, but an accusation. One that very nearly prompted an apology to spill from Caroline’s lips before she bit her tongue. She had nothing to apologize for. It was not her fault her husband had turned a blind eye to her since their wedding day. Even before that, really. During their courtship she had caught him looking at her from time to time…but he’d never really looked at her. At least not like he was doing now. As if she were a tasty rabbit and he was a hungry wolf.
Make that a very large hungry wolf, she thought when he took a menacing step forward. His muscular frame seemed to fill the entire room, leaving her with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. For one wild, heart stopping moment she considered diving under the bed…but she knew it would not stop the duke from claiming what he desired.
Her stalked her down with long, prowling strides until nothing stood between them but Caroline’s own uncertainty. What had her mother instructed her to do? Suddenly she couldn’t remember. Something about gritting her teeth and staring up at the ceiling…
She jolted when Eric touched her hip. Quivered when his hand splayed across the small of her back. Gasped when he yanked her against the hard, hot length of his body.
“I am going to kiss you again.” It was not a question this time, but a command, and she scarcely had time to close her eyes and tilt her head back before his mouth was on hers.
He devoured her lips with quick, hungry bites before sliding his tongue between her teeth. She felt her knees wobble from the unexpected sensation, but it was nothing compared to the shock of pure arousal that crashed over her like a wave when his hands slipped beneath her wrapper to touch her breasts.
His thumbs flicked across her nipples, arousing them to pointed, throbbing peaks of desire. Flames licked at her toes and swept up her legs to pool between her thighs. They ignited into a fiery ball of lust when he dipped his head and drew one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling it until her head lolled back and a desperate mewl escaped her lips.
The tiny sound only served to heighten Eric’s desire. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, dark and potent and filled with passion, before he swept her up into his arms and carried her effortlessly over to the bed.
With one easy pull her wrapper spilled open, exposing her entire body to his hungry gaze. Overcome with shyness she tried to cover herself, but he gently took her wrist and lifted her arm away from her breasts.
“Don’t hide yourself from me.” His husky voice rubbed against her skin like rough velvet. Lowering himself to the mattress he kissed her again until the tension in her muscles eased and she was soft and pliant beneath him, her limbs heavy, her breathing deep and even.
Her breaths quickened when he stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. Then she quite simply stopped breathing all together when he lowered his trousers and revealed his throbbing member.
“Oh,” she said weakly, shocked – and rather concerned – at the sheer size of what awaited her. No wonder her mother had told her to grit her teeth!
“Here, give me your hand,” he murmured, and Caroline hesitantly allowed him to wrap her fingers around his warm, silky length. He groaned when her grip reflexively tightened and her gaze darted up to his, a line of surprise furrowing her brow when he seemed to grow even larger.
“It’s so hard,” she said wondrously. “I – I hadn’t any idea.”
Lady Wentworth had never gone into the exact details of lovemaking which was probably a good thing, for had she told her daughter what to expect Caroline doubted she would have believed her. That part of him was supposed to fit inside of her?
Impossible.
“I am terribly sorry,” she said fretfully, “but I do not see how this is going to work.”
The corner of his mouth twitched before he adopted a sober expression. “It will work, love. I assure you.”
“But…isn’t it going to hurt?”
“No. When done correctly, it should never hurt.” Midnight blue eyes glittering with dark, sensual promise, he leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Unless you want it to.”
“I don’t,” she said hastily.
“Then you’ve nothing to be afraid of.” Devoid of any clothing, he climbed into bed beside her.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned back and centered her head on the middle of a pillow, trying to give herself the best view of the ceiling as possible. Limbs rigid, shoulders stiff, she stared at a wrinkle in the canopy and waited for her husband to do the deed. When he did not climb on top of her and immediately begin thrusting, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and frowned.
“Am I doing it wrong?” she asked self-consciously.
Lifting a loose curl from her neck, the duke twisted it absently between his fingers. “Truth be told I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re doing. Bracing yourself for an attack from the French?”
“No.” A blush heated her cheeks. “I was…that is to say, I am...I am ready.”
“Are you certain?” he queried. When she pressed her lips tightly together and gave a brisk nod, the corner of his mouth lifted in a roguish half smile that had butterflies dancing in her belly. “Well by all means, let’s begin.”
Chapter Nine
No man liked deflowering an innocent. At least none that Eric had ever met. It was a messy affair, both literally and figuratively. He may not have had any firsthand knowledge, but he’d heard enough horror stories to know that it almost never went well. Gazing down at Caroline, who looked for all the world as if she were a lamb laying on a sacrificial altar, it was not very hard to imagine why.
Mothers, he thought darkly, would do well to keep their traps shut when it came to educating their beloved daughters on the perils of lovemaking. It wasn’t his fault they’d been forced to sleep with husbands who didn’t know a petticoat lane from a tea kettle, and yet he was the one dealing with the consequences.
Sex was not something to be endured. I
t was something to be enjoyed. That being said, he would be the first to admit he had not been looking forward to bedding his wife.
Getting her pregnant so he could return to London? Yes.
Actually doing the deed? No.
But then he’d kissed her…and everything had changed.
The taste of her lips, the soft mewling cry she’d made when he had cupped her breast, the way she’d melted around him when he had drawn her sweet little nipple into his mouth…had his self-control been any less, he would have fed the growling beast inside of him then and there.
“You needn’t be afraid of me, love.” He touched her hip and she flinched, her soft gray eyes as wide as he’d ever seen them. “You liked it when we kissed, didn’t you?”
The pretty blush in her cheeks intensified. “Yes,” she admitted after a pause. “I did. It was…very nice.”
“If you relax, this next part will be very nice too. That’s it,” he murmured when she forced her tiny fists to unclench. “That’s a darling.” Leaning up on his side, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her slowly. Leisurely. As if they’d all the time in the world.
Their legs entwined, her small feet tucking themselves between his muscular calves. His arousal pulsed against her thigh as he traced the contours of her hipbone before gliding up along her ribcage. When he reached the swell of her bosom he changed direction, fingers dancing down her flat belly and navel to the golden nest of curls that were already damp and awaiting his touch.
She stiffened when he caressed the peak of her womanhood with his fingertip. Softened when he nibbled her earlobe before kissing his way down to her nipples. He took his time, stroking her sensitive bud and suckling her breasts in tandem until she began to move restlessly against him, her body instinctively seeking what it craved but couldn’t define. At least not in so many words. But he knew what she wanted, for it was the same thing he desired with every ragged breath he drew into his lungs.
A Duchess for all Seasons: The Collection Page 6