The Duke of Darkness

by Cora Lee

  After a moment he sat up, piling pillows behind him. “Straddle me,” he said, stretching his legs out, “with your back to me.”

  She’d never been asked to do that before but complied, interested to see how this would play out.

  “You’ll want to be on your knees.”

  “All right.” She got herself up on her knees, hovering over the tip of his manhood, and she could see what he was thinking. “Are you ready?”

  She felt his lips on her back, his hands on her hips, and need began to course through her body once again.

  “Very,” he murmured against her skin and she lowered herself down, taking him slowly inside her.

  His hands slid up her body as she sunk down onto him, cupping her plump breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Oh, Livie,” he groaned.

  She tipped her head back, resting it on his shoulder as her breath began to quicken again. “I like this…”

  “You’re in control,” he said softly in her ear. “You decide how fast or slow, how deep you take me.”

  She rose up so that only the last inch of him was still in contact with her body, then relaxed her legs and took him all the way back in. A half-tortured, half-approving sound rumbled in his chest so she did it again, then again. Her own arousal grew and she moved a little faster, covering his large hands on her breasts with her smaller ones, holding them against her.

  “Like that?” she asked, though his heavy breathing answered the question for her.

  She squeezed her inner muscles and he moaned. “Like…that…”

  One of his hands left her breast and found its way between her thighs, stroking her slick nub and sending a bolt of pleasure through her body. “Lucas,” she panted. “Yes…” His hips moved with hers, his hand still working her nub, and her climax began to build. “I’m…close…”

  She moved faster, squeezing her inner muscles on every upstroke, the pleasure building inside her driving her on. When he kneaded her breast again, it sent her over the edge and she cried out. He stroked inside her a few more times, then pulled out and finished himself off with his own hand between her legs.

  He collapsed back onto the pillows he’d piled up and she laid on his chest, drained but sated.

  “I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said, reaching back to run a hand over his cheek and trying to catch her breath.

  He kissed her neck, then her shoulder, wrapping one arm around her. “Didn’t I promise you pleasure?”

  She laughed a little. “Yes you did. And once again, you’ve kept your promise.”

  “I always will,” he murmured, shifting beneath her to press a kiss to her temple. “Always.”

  She slid her fingers through his damp hair, answering softly. “I know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rhuddlan rose with the sun the next morning, despite sleeping little the night before. He’d awoken several times in the night, spending long, peaceful moments with Olivia in his arms or lying in hers before drifting off to sleep once more. But he’d sent instructions to the company of men escorting Nick back from Deganwy, asking them to meet him in an abandoned barn a few miles away from Rhuddlan Hall, and he needed to be on his way early.

  He didn’t want his brother anywhere near Olivia or any of his other dependents, but he needed to look the man in the eye one more time. Could he really prosecute his own brother, knowing what a guilty verdict would mean? Or was it enough to send him to some forlorn place where he could live out the rest of his days with only a jailor for company?

  The morning sky was overcast, the wind blowing cold in a preview of the chilly autumn weather to come, but it suited Rhuddlan’s mood as he rode out of the stable on Hermes. Whatever he chose as Nick’s fate, this day also meant that saying goodbye to Olivia was nigh. That hurt as much as losing his brother, if in a different way, for he was losing the woman he was now certain he loved. She’d been the one bright spot in his life these past weeks, but he knew her stay at Rhuddlan Hall was always meant to be temporary. He scowled at the sky, wondering if he had the strength to do what was needed this day.

  When Rhuddlan arrived at the barn, he found Nick’s escort already there.

  “How was the ride from Deganwy?” he asked Ellis, the company’s man in charge, outside the old barn.

  “Longer than I expected, Your Grace,” Ellis returned. “He wouldn’t come quietly, so we were obliged to restrain him. Thought it would be better if prying eyes didn’t see him riding pillion behind one of my men, all tied up, so we had to hire a carriage to transport him.”

  Rhuddlan frowned, unhappy but unsurprised. “Where is he now?”

  “Inside with two of my men.”

  “I’ll see him alone for a moment, then I’ll have instructions for the next leg of your journey.”

  Ellis nodded and gave a short bow before showing Rhuddlan to the barn entrance. Only one door was open, throwing a rectangle of dim sunlight onto the floor. Nick sat further back in a pile of old straw, his hands and feet bound with stout rope, his dark hair disheveled, and a smudge of dirt on his face.

  One of Ellis’s men stood guard on either side of him, and Rhuddlan dismissed them.

  “Come to gloat, brother?” Nick asked flatly when his escorts had gone outside.

  “Not to gloat, Nicu,” Rhuddlan said. His voice was quiet but firm. “To decide what to do with you.”

  “Am I not to be put through a sham of a trial and hanged?” Nick asked, one eyebrow arching in question.

  Rhuddlan ignored the dig at the court’s integrity. “A trial is one possibility. The other is exile.”

  “Well, that worked well for Napoleon,” Nick quipped.

  “The first time, perhaps,” Rhuddlan returned more sharply than he’d intended. “But you won’t be ruling Elba with your own personal regiment on hand for protection.” He took a breath, then tried again. “You left four innocent people to the mercy of monsters and tried to kill me. And that was just your final act. Are you at all sorry for what you did?”

  “Only that I didn’t complete my task,” Nick said, his voice emotionless once more.

  The final nail in Nick’s metaphorical coffin, then. He’d all but admitted that, given even the tiniest opportunity, he’d come after Rhuddlan—and perhaps those he was close to—again.

  “Then I have a question for you, likely the last choice you’ll ever make,” Rhuddlan said evenly, hoping he was making the right decision. Nick’s brows rose, and Rhuddlan continued, “The York or the Retribution?”

  “What?”

  “Which prison hulk would you like to be housed on?”

  Nick, predictably, scoffed. “Those are for criminals and prisoners of war, and they’re temporary lodging at that.”

  Rhuddlan nodded. “Usually, yes. But, with a little help from a friend, I can get you lifetime accommodations aboard either the HMS York or the HMS Retribution. The York is newly converted, but I expect it to have similar conditions to the others of its class by the time you arrive.”

  Nick blanched. He’d heard the same stories Rhuddlan had about the prison hulks being crowded and filthy, with dreadful food and no quarantine for sick inmates. Either ship would be a dark, disgusting place to live with little hope of escape.

  “Why don’t you just kill me?” he asked, marshalling what appeared to be the last of his defiance. “Why not take me to trial and let me be executed?”

  “Because the prison hulk is what you deserve.”

  Rhuddlan turned, nodding to the men to close the door behind him as he left the barn. “You’ll bed down here tonight,” he said to Ellis when he reached the yard once again. “Tomorrow you’ll set off for the Isle of Sheppey. See your usual contact in London when you arrive there for more detailed instructions.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “There’s a bonus for you and your men if you get your cargo to his final destination.”

  Ellis grinned. “I always get them there, Your Grace.”

  Rhuddlan acknowledge
d the truth of that statement with a nod. “Be especially careful with this one.”

  He strode over to Hermes and mounted the horse, glancing once more at the barn that held his baby brother. Rhuddlan knew he’d likely feel guilty for deciding on this punishment, particularly if an inmate came aboard with some deadly, contagious disease. But after the destruction of property and lives Nick had orchestrated, he truly did deserve to live out his days in a hellhole. And if his conscience prodded him about it, Rhuddlan swore he’d simply recall the picture of his brother standing over him with that fowling piece, ready to kill him.

  He rode Hermes hard, much to the delight of the stallion, and took the long way back to Rhuddlan Hall. When he arrived, Olivia was sitting in the drawing room embroidering.

  She looked up from her work when he opened the door and smiled shyly. “I found your note this morning.”

  The memory of writing her a note while she lay in his bed sleeping naked replaced his troubles with Nick momentarily, and he smiled in return. “I would rather have been there myself when you woke.”

  She stood, placing the material she’d been sewing on her chair. “As would I. But such a beautiful note was the next best thing.”

  She walked toward him, and he met her halfway across the room, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her softly, wishing he smelled like something sweeter than horse and sweat. “I’m glad it sufficed.”

  Her arms came around him, her fingers threading through his hair. “And the business you saw to this morning?”

  “It’s done,” he said, palming her cheek. “You’re safe now.”

  “Lord Nicholas?”

  “Will spend the rest of his long life wishing for death,” Rhuddlan answered without preamble. “He’s bound for a prison hulk moored on the other side of England.”

  The tension in her body flooded out, and he felt her relax against him. “That’s a good compromise between hanging and transportation.”

  “I thought so, too.” He placed a kiss on her temple, whispering, “And now you can have your life back.”

  They held each other without speaking for what felt like seconds and hours all at the same time. Then she drew back and kissed his lips, smiling. “Thank you, Lucas,” she murmured. “Though it won’t be my old life I go back to, will it?”

  “No, I suppose not,” he replied, resting his forehead against hers. “A new home, with no more worries about income or cruel men or blackmail.”

  “I still have my mother’s debts to pay,” she reminded him.

  “No you don’t.”

  “Yes, I—” She pulled away a little to look him in the eye. “Did you?”

  He nodded. “One less thing for you to worry about.”

  “Rhuddlan...”

  He bent his head and captured her lips briefly. “What happened to Lucas?” he asked with a smile.

  “Is that what you prefer?” A blush began to creep up her neck and into her cheeks, and he knew she was remembering the last time she used his Christian name.

  “It is since last night,” he said quietly. “For as long as I live, I will never forget how you sounded when you called my name in bed.”

  Her forehead met his shoulder, but she was grinning. “Then Lucas it will be, when we are private together.”

  He kissed her hair, then asked the next inevitable question. “Will we be private together again?”

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes unreadable. “You did promise to call on me once I’m settled in the new house. We will certainly be alone there.”

  “Except for Artie,” he said lightly.

  “Except for Artie,” she chuckled. “Though we can always shut the door.”

  “Is that what you want?” he asked, unsure of which answer he wanted her to give. “To be my mistress?”

  Seconds after the words left his mouth he regretted them. No honorable gentleman would ever say such a thing to a respectable lady. But Olivia didn’t seem offended by the question.

  “I’m honestly not sure,” she said, her brow wrinkling as the conflict played out on her face. “I think I love you, Lucas. And what we had last night, what we did... It was wonderful.”

  She thought she loved him? His brain seized on that phrase and tried to call a halt to all other operations, but he forced himself to pay attention to the rest of her words.

  “But I need to be on my own, at least for a while. I need to learn how to live without fear, and to take care of myself again. I cannot go directly from being under your literal protection to being your paramour—”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she laid a finger over his lips.

  “—or anything else. I need to not be dependent upon anyone to truly have my life back.”

  His mind could understand the logic of her words—he would feel the same way had their positions been reversed—but his heart felt as though it had been stomped on. “Of course,” he managed. “That was always the plan, wasn’t it?”

  “Falling in love with you was never part of the plan,” she replied softly. “And I can’t make you any promises about the future. That’s what makes this so difficult.”

  “The feeling is mutual, darling,” he said, swallowing down the urge to make love to her until she changed her mind. Even if he succeeded and she stayed, she would eventually grow discontented, chaffing at the bond that held her there rather than cherishing it. “Rhuddlan Hall is your home for as long as you like. It—and I—will always be here for you.”

  She tightened her arms around him. “It’s probably best if I go today.”

  He nodded. “Shall we say our goodbyes now, while we are private?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, pulling him down to her for gentle, deep kiss.

  He broke away for a moment to lock the drawing room door, then took her hand and led her to the sofa. Sliding his hands into her hair, he kissed her again, nipping at her lips, dropping kisses down her neck. In one motion they moved onto the sofa, Olivia’s knees on either side of Rhuddlan’s hips. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of her gown, sliding her bodice down as she worked the buttons on the falls of his trousers.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said, his breathing rapid.

  “I want you inside me,” she whispered. She opened the last button and pulled his member free, rubbing the tip at her entrance. They groaned simultaneously when she took him slowly in, settling in his lap for a moment to pull her arms from the sleeves of her gown. He lifted her breasts from beneath her stays and shift, sucking first one nipple then the other into his mouth.

  “Lucas,” she breathed, drawing out his name as if she wanted it to last on her lips.

  “Livie,” he murmured as she lifted herself up, hands braced on his shoulders, then slowly relaxed against him. She did it again, already beginning to pick up speed, and his head lolled back against the sofa.

  She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest and he regretted not shedding his tailcoat when he’d had the chance. But her eyes closed and she moaned, and he instantly changed his mind.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  She nodded and he moved his hands to her legs, sliding them up her stockings to the bare skin he sought. She clenched her inner muscles around him and he squeezed her hips.

  “Do you like that?” she asked with a grin.

  “Yes,” he said, the word hissed as much as spoken. “Livie, yes…”

  He slid one hand to her cleft and thumbed her nub, gratified when her back arched, pushing her breasts more firmly against him. Her movements became uncoordinated, and he knew she was close. He flexed his hips, stroking inside her when she became unable to continue the rhythm on her own.

  “Lucas…”

  His thumb brushed her nub again, exerting a little more pressure and rubbing in time with his stroking, and she gasped, climaxing in his arms. The ecstasy was plain on her beautiful face, his name on her lips, and he had to concentrate to keep from coming with her.

  He waited until her peak had pa
ssed, then pulled his member from her body and finished himself off against her naked thigh. It was messier, which he would regret in a few minutes, but he didn’t want to take the chance of getting her with child. Her life had been decided for her once before; he didn’t want to put her in that position again.

  She slumped against him, pressing her lips to his jaw. “I love you, Lucas Blake,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I love you, Olivia Stone,” he answered softly, purposely using her alias. He hadn’t known Olivia Lockwood, the daughter of a wealthy merchant betrothed to an earl’s heir. But Olivia Stone, seamstress and dog owner, had captured his heart.

  ~~~

  It took Olivia three weeks in her new house to stop jumping at every little sound, four before she could walk with Artie around the grounds without looking over her shoulder every few minutes. By the beginning of the sixth week she realized she was sleeping all the way through the night again, no longer waking in a cold sweat and wondering how best to flee without being seen.

  Artie helped her begin to feel safe again, of course, simply by being a large, ferocious looking dog, but also by becoming her protector more than ever before. He took it upon himself to inspect rooms when she walked into them, to investigate sounds, to periodically sniff the air and ground, to be alert and on guard so she didn’t always have to be. If Artie was relaxed, Olivia knew she could relax, and they spent many comfortable evenings before the fire in the Marquess of Hadley’s former study.

  One thing she never quite got used to, though, was the almost complete absence of Rhuddlan’s presence in her life. He kept his distance as she’d requested, save the letters they exchanged. It started as a note Olivia sent with Mrs. Andersen on market day, asking her to detour to Rhuddlan Hall on her way to the village about a week after Olivia had relocated to the new house. She’d wanted to let him know that she was settling in and that she adored the house. She’d also wanted badly to tell him how much she missed him, but thought better of it after their rather emotional parting.