A Duchess for all Seasons: The Collection

by Jillian Eaton

  He knew Hannah wouldn’t betray him. His little wife was meek as a lamb and loyal besides. It was his lecherous, womanizing neighbor he didn’t trust. He would rather cut off his good leg than leave Colebrook alone with his duchess for more than a few minutes, let alone allow him to drag her off into a dark, secluded barn. Which was why he was dragging her off into a dark, secluded barn.

  Although God knew he wasn’t happy about it.

  There was a reason he’d been avoiding Hannah as if she carried the plague, and it wasn’t because he did not like her. It was because he liked her too much.

  One glance at her sunset colored hair, one whiff of her sweet floral scent, and he was hard as a rock and aching to take her into his arms. After being celibate for the better part of half a decade, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable position to be in. Which was why he’d been doing his best to pretend she didn’t exist. A difficult task to accomplish when he was in one wing of the house and she another; a damn near impossible one when they were walking side by side, her tiny hand buried in the crook of his elbow and her right breast temptingly close to brushing against his arm.

  “I thought you’d been to see the horses before,” he said as they walked slowly along a narrow, partially overgrown path that led from the manor down to the stables.

  Originally made of wood, the main barn had burnt to the ground while Evan’s grandfather was still alive and had been rebuilt out of stone. It was a two-story structure in the shape of an L with horses below and hay above. The longest part of the barn contained the stalls, each with a double hung door overlooking the front courtyard while the smaller section housed tack and feed. Behind the barn was a large paddock and beyond the paddock an even larger field.

  During the warm summer months the horses were allowed out at night and kept in their stalls during the day to avoid the heat and the flies. But with the cooler temperatures they’d recently switched back to being stabled overnight and a chorus of sleepy whickers greeted Evan and Hannah when they reached the main entrance where twin lanterns cast a shallow circle of yellow light onto the freshly raked ground.

  “No,” she said, slipping her hand free of his arm in order to walk up to the nearest horse, an old bay mare named Abigail that had once belonged to Evan’s mother. Laying a gloved hand alongside of Abby’s neck, she gave the mare a gentle scratch. “I have never been a very accomplished rider, but I do enjoy their company. I believe it’s their eyes.”

  “Their eyes?” Evan asked, his brow furrowing as he automatically reached into his pocket for a piece of peppermint and held it out to Abby who lipped up the treat with an appreciative snort and immediately began nosing his chest for more.

  “A human can deceive you with their eyes, but not a horse.” With one last pat Hannah moved on to the next stall. She giggled when its enthusiastic occupant, a dappled gelding with a mischievous nature, thrust his head over the door and knocked her bonnet askew. The happy sound, bright as a ray of sunshine on a clear summer’s day, caught Evan off guard, as did the warmth that spread through his chest upon hearing it.

  “That’s true enough,” he said tightly. Hannah peered at him from beneath the gelding’s scruffy jaw, gray eyes big and bemused in the dim lighting.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked.

  Yes. Something bloody well is the matter. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for you, and now I’m feeling too much. I wasn’t supposed to want you, and now you’re all I can think about. I wasn’t supposed to believe in love, and now I think it might be the only thing worth believing in.

  “No,” he snapped. “I am simply tired. I did not sleep well last night.”

  “Oh.” Those soft, tempting pink lips pursed together and it was all he could do not to groan. “Would you like to return to the house?”

  “You wanted to see the damn stables and we’re seeing the damn stables. Tonight,” he emphasized with so much force that Abby’s ears flicked back and she bared her teeth. Hannah had a similar reaction.

  “There’s no need to be so short-tempered all of the time,” she said, her tone gently chiding. “It was a simple question. Not an accusation.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I warned you that I was a bastard, and a callous one besides. You knew exactly who I was when you married me.”

  “Yes,” she acknowledged. “But you never told me why you are the way you are. Surely there must be a reason. Colebrook mentioned…”

  “What?” he demanded when she hesitated. “Colebrook mentioned what? You cannot believe a word that lying bounder says. He’ll try to turn you against me just for the amusement of it.”

  “Turn me against you?” This time when she looked at him, her eyes were sad. “I think you are doing a fine job of that all on your own, don’t you?”

  Evan’s mouth opened. Closed. Her words had hit him like a punch to the gut, but before he could summon a response she’d moved on to the next stall.

  “Who is this?” she asked, peering over the door at a spindly legged colt with a large white blaze and two white stockings. He was a handsome, inquisitive fellow, and – if he grew as tall as his sire – Evan’s next riding horse. The colt’s dam dozed in the corner, exhausted after a long day of chasing her impish offspring over hill and dale.

  “He doesn’t have a name yet.” Evan joined her at the stall. She stepped sideways to accommodate him and her ankle turned. Without thinking he wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her. She fit against his side as if she’d been born to be there, her subtle curves as soft as feather down against the hard lines of his body. His jaw clenched. “Have I mentioned how much I dislike clumsy women?”

  “Once or twice.” Auburn curls spilled across his shoulder when she tilted her head back. In the soft glow of the lamplight the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks looked like tiny flecks of moon dust. “Have I mentioned how much I dislike rude, overbearing dukes?”

  “Once or twice.” Let her go, damn you. Let her go now, while you still can.

  His grip tightened.

  “Are you going to kiss me again?” she whispered, her eyes two shimmering pools of ash beneath a thick fringe of velvet lashes.

  “Do you want me to?” His voice was hoarse, his blood hot.

  “Yes.” Her tongue slipped between her lips, drawing his gaze down to her delectable little mouth. A mouth that was all but begging to be tasted. By him. And if that wasn’t the most confounding thing on God’s green earth he didn’t know what was.

  Hannah wanted him. The half crippled duke with a disfigured face who’d once been mocked by the entire ton. He didn’t know why or how, given as he did not even want himself. But she did.

  And he wanted her.

  He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life. More than he’d wanted to walk. More than he’d wanted his father’s approval. More than he’d wanted the echoes of Lady Portia’s cruel laughter to disappear. And so with a savage growl that was more beast than man, he took what he wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  If their last kiss had set Hannah’s body on fire, then this one threatened to burn her to the ground. On a delighted gasp she parted her lips, allowing her husband’s tongue to sweep boldly into her mouth as she shoved her fingers into his hair.

  Easily spanning her waist with both hands, Wycliffe turned her in his arms so they were face to face, chest to chest, groin to groin. She felt the throbbing pulse of his arousal through his trousers. Felt an answering dampness between her thighs that brought a warm blush to her cheeks.

  After their passionate exchange in the goldenrod she thought she’d known what to expect the next time he kissed her.

  But she was wrong.

  So utterly, completely, delightfully wrong.

  His hands slid up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing across her nipples as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. She let go of his hair to clutch at his nape, fingernails digging furrows in his skin through the silk fabric of her gloves.

 
He bit down on her bottom lip and she whimpered.

  He licked the tiny bite and she moaned.

  Sensation after sensation washed over her until she was drowning in desire. Her entire body hummed with it, and when he backed her against the rough barn wall and shoved up her skirts to stroke the wettest part of her she clenched around his finger almost immediately, stars bursting behind her closed eyelids as he ruthlessly drove her to the pinnacle of wild abandon and shoved her over the edge.

  He softened her fall with a kiss, murmuring quiet, unintelligible words of comfort against her swollen lips as she clung to his neck as if it were a sturdy mast in a deep, turbulent sea. When the waters began to calm she opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his own gaze as dark as the sea she’d just lost – and found – herself in.

  “Again,” he said simply, and before Hannah could fully comprehend what he meant he had slipped his finger back inside of her and captured her mouth in a long, drugging kiss that did not end until she was crying out his name.

  “Wycliffe. Wycliffe.” It spilled from her lips like a chant as he brought her to the top of the mountain again and again, until her knees were weak and her body was trembling and she could barely remember her own name.

  Then she was touching him, her fingers taking on a life of their own as she freed him from the front flap of his trousers. He spilled hot and heavy into her hands, the tip of his phallus damp with desire.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. In response he wrapped his hand around hers and guided her palm along his hard length until he’d established a rhythm that quickened with every stroke.

  “Like that,” he rasped, and Hannah experienced a thrill of delight when she realized she was bringing him the same erotic pleasure he had brought her.

  His head fell back, Adam’s apple bobbing as the muscles in his abdomen went rigid. When he found his release he groaned her name – the very first time he’d ever spoken it – and her heart filled with a cozy warmth that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with love.

  Their heavy breaths intermingled with the quiet snorts and whickers of the horses as they both slowly descended back to earth. Removing a monogrammed handkerchief from the front pocket of his waistcoat Wycliffe offered it to her first but with a shy shake of her head she declined, unable to meet his gaze for fear of what she would see in the cool depths of his eyes.

  Would he reject her, as he had before? Or would this time be different? Would this time he finally admit when she knew – or at least, she hoped – he felt in his heart? For surely he could not have kissed her like he had, touched her like he had, brought her pleasure like he had…if he didn’t feel something for her.

  She had her answer after he was done cleaning himself up. Stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket and buttoning his trousers he stepped back, and her heart sank all the way down to her toes when she saw the rigid line between his brows.

  “I am sorry,” he said stiffly. “That should not have–”

  “Devil take your apology!” She threw her hands in the air, spooking the nameless colt. He spun in a circle in his stall, but Hannah was too incensed to notice. “And devil take you! I – you – oh!” Unable to put her anger into words, she shoved past him and ran all the way back to the manor, her tears glistening like diamonds in the moonlight.

  Hannah did not speak a word to Wycliffe for the next three days. She couldn’t. She was too furious with him.

  Furious that he’d brought her so much pleasure…and furious that he’d brought her so much pain. How could he have filled her with fire one moment and treated her with such infuriating coldness the next? And his blasted apology! Her jaw still clenched whenever she thought of it. She didn’t want his apology. She wanted him. And more than ever before she wanted to know what had happened in his past to have left him with such horrific scars.

  Not the ones on his face. Those had healed years ago and as much as he seemed to believe otherwise, they did not bother her in the slightest. No. It was the scars he carried on his frozen heart that concerned her. Scars that were still bleeding even after all this time.

  Her marriage to Wycliffe may have saved her family from financial ruin and her father from debtor’s prison, but at what cost to herself? Was she destined to be forever trapped in a loveless union? One made all the worse because she feared she was falling in love with her husband…and, even though he would never admit it, he was falling in love with her as well.

  He hadn’t said the words – hadn’t even come close – but she knew, she knew that he couldn’t kiss her such wicked abandon if he didn’t care deeply for her.

  Some men could have. Men like Colebrook, who saw every woman they met as a conquest to be won. But not Wycliffe. If what he felt towards her was nothing more than lust then he would have no reason to apologize. After all, she was his wife. His property before God and country. If he wanted her in his bed he did not have to ask, and he certainly did not have to apologize. That he had done so – twice – gave her hope there was more to his feelings than what he showed on the surface.

  But her hope was rapidly dwindling, and her mood was certainly not improved by her sister’s unexpected arrival.

  “He’s called off the engagement!” Cadence wailed, her tearful voice echoing in the vast emptiness of the manor as she ran across the foyer and straight into Hannah’s arms. The footman who had admitted Cadence regarded the sister’s reunion with wide eyes before he promptly slipped out the door and shut it firmly behind him, leaving them alone.

  “Who has?” Hannah said, caught off guard not only by Cadence’s sudden appearance but also her state of dishevelment. With her silky brown hair is wild disarray and her eyes red and swollen from crying, Cadence looked nothing like the calm, composed bride-to-be Hannah had left in London.

  “Who?” her sister repeated shrilly. “Who do you think? Lord Benfield! Lord Benfield has called off our engagement!”

  “Perhaps it would be best if you sat down. Come, over here.” Gently guiding Cadence into the parlor and over to a settee that was only moderately dusty, she sat down beside her and turned so they were facing one another. “Now take a deep breath,” she said firmly. “And tell me what happened. I thought you and Lord Benfield were not yet engaged? How could he call off your engagement?”

  “We were practically engaged!” Cadence cried. “Everyone knew it was only a matter of time.”

  Everyone, apparently, except for Lord Benfield, Hannah thought silently. Truth be told she’d never liked the earl, but Cadence had seemed quite smitten with him and so she’d bitten her tongue. Now, however, she saw no reason to continue hiding her dislike.

  “Good.” She patted her sister’s knee. “You are far better off without him.”

  “Better off?” Cadence’s dark gray eyes widened in disbelief. “Better off? I’m ruined, Han! Completely ruined.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say–”

  “He might as well left me at the a-altar. I will never love again.” And with that rather bold proclamation, Cadence abruptly buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

  “What the devil is going on in here?” Appearing in the doorway, Wycliffe took one look at Cadence and immediately stepped back into the hall. Her mouth settling in a mulish frown, Hannah sprang to her feet and followed him out, closing the door behind her so Cadence could not overhear their conversation.

  “That is my sister. She’s going to be staying with us.” She lifted a challenging brow, daring her husband to contradict her. She was tired of being understanding and finished with being patient. If Wycliffe was going to a stubborn arse despite her best attempts to coax a bit of humanity out of him, then she was done trying.

  Hadn’t she learned her lesson with her sisters and her dear father? No matter how many times she told them to stop wasting money, no matter how many different ways she pleaded with him to enforce stricter allowances, they never listened and they certainly never changed. Why had she expected Wyc
liffe to be any different? For better or worse, people were who they were. Unfortunately for her, she’d married someone who fell decidedly into the ‘worse’ category.

  Which was why she was so utterly shocked when he looked at the parlor where Cadence’s loud sobs could be heard clearly through the door and then back at Hannah before he inclined his head and said, quite simply, “All right.”

  Then he turned and walked away towards his study, leaving Hannah gaping after him.

  “Wait!” she called, but he didn’t so much as pause. Running back into the parlor, she pressed a quick kiss to Cadence’s damp cheek and promised she’d return promptly before dashing after her husband.

  She reached him just as he was about to close the door to his study, and quickly slipped into the dimly lit room before he could slam the door in her face. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and when they did she discovered Wycliffe frowning at her from behind his desk, arms folded across his chest and a formidable line entrenched between his dark brows.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” he growled.

  “Why is every room in this house so very d-dark?” Just a little breathless from her impromptu sprint through the manor, Hannah turned in a slow circle, frowning when she saw the heavy drapes covering the windows.

  She’d managed to replace the drapes in her bedchamber and drawing room with blue silk curtains Elsbeth had found in the attic and was waiting for a shipment to arrive from London before she moved on to the other rooms in the manor. She had also hired three new maids and was actively looking for a new housekeeper. Preferably one who did not take naps in the broom closet with a bottle of rum.

  Slowly but surely the old house was emerging from the shadows, but she’d not yet dared to change so much as a piece of parchment in her husband’s study.

  “It’s the middle of the day, yet being in here you would never know it.” Crossing to the nearest window she drew back the drape and squinted up at the bright autumn sun. Over the past few days the air had grown noticeably colder. There were now more leaves on the ground than there were on the trees, and the berries on the holly bushes had started to turn orange. By the end of the month they would be bright red and then it was only a matter of time before the winds began to howl and snow started to fall.