Would I Lie to the Duke

by Eva Leigh

  Carefully, he eased her back enough so he could stand. His legs were unsteady, yet they held strong enough for him to gather her up in his arms and carry her to the bed. Tenderly, he laid her down, taking note of how her thighs shifted against each other, and the stiff tips of her breasts beneath the cambric she still wore.

  He stroked his hands up her ankles, her calves, and then he snared the hem of her nightgown. “May I?”

  She nodded, and in an instant, the garment was gone. He tossed it to the floor as she kicked off her slippers. At last she was naked, in his bed.

  “You’re so goddamned beautiful,” he muttered. “So soft and curved. My hands were made to touch you. May I touch you?”

  “Yes. Noel, yes.”

  His hands discovered all of her, from the roundness of her belly to the indentation of her waist, to the silk of her breasts and taut nipples. And she was responsive, so responsive, writhing and moaning as he touched her. She was lovely in her pleasure—incredibly, he began to harden again, even after his devastating orgasm.

  “I want to fuck you again,” he growled as he brought his lips to her stomach. “But first I want you to come on my tongue. Do you want that, too?”

  “I want that.” Her words were gasps. “Want you.”

  He grazed his fingers over her mound, and her thighs parted as he found her slit. “My beautiful Jess. You’re incredibly wet.”

  She glossed his fingers with her desire. He stroked her, fingering the delicate folds, and when he circled her clitoris with his thumb and slipped two fingers into her passage, she bowed up with a cry.

  “I can’t wait anymore.” He lowered his head and licked her. He groaned as her flavor filled him, honey and spice. She was lovely everywhere, and he loved this part of her, so he showed her with rough reverence how grateful he was to be given the honor of pleasuring her. He used all of his skill, strategic licks and sucks and even gentle nibbles. All the while, he thrust his fingers in and out. The exquisite place within her was swollen, and he curved his fingers to stroke over it. When he sucked her clitoris between his lips, she clutched his head to her—a reversal that he adored.

  She cried out and went rigid, grinding herself against him as she came. He happily drowned in her. The moment her body relaxed, he flicked his tongue over her bud again, his fingers working her relentlessly. He adored the sound of her climaxing again.

  By the time he’d brought her to another orgasm, his cock was as hard as if he hadn’t had release in months, not minutes.

  “Noel,” she commanded hoarsely.

  “You want my cock in you?”

  “Now.”

  He climbed fully onto the bed and lay back, tugging on her hands. “Ride me, my lady.”

  Her whole body was flushed and pink and wonderfully supple as she clambered atop him. She straddled his hips, and he guided his cock to her entrance. With her gaze holding his, she sank down onto him, impaling herself. She moaned. “Oh, God.”

  He gripped her hips as she held tightly to his shoulders, then she did as he’d asked. She rode him. Hard. Her hips slammed against his, and he surged up to meet her. It was rough and relentless. He watched his cock disappear into her, then dragged his gaze up to her face. She had her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth open as she mewled with each stroke.

  Her fingers gripped him, her body tensing as she gasped another climax.

  As the last waves seemed to leave her, he moved quickly, arranging their bodies so that she was on her hands and knees as he knelt behind her. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she rasped.

  He drove into her in a single thrust. She pushed back into each pump of his hips, and he was lost. Being inside her was the greatest pleasure he’d ever known, and he wanted it to last forever. It would not be long, though, before he had to spill.

  He brought one of his hands around her hips. His fingers found her clitoris, circling it, rubbing against her sensitive flesh as he fucked her steadily.

  “Oh, God,” she gasped. “I—” She let out a long, full-throated moan of release.

  A moment later, he pulled out. He grunted as his entire being was suffused with pleasure, and his seed shot from him.

  She collapsed onto the bed. He grabbed a cloth from the washstand and cleaned her, before setting the fabric aside. He lowered down beside her, and then, sated, exhausted, exhilarated, he gathered her up in his arms. She snuggled against him, her breath soft and warm against his chest.

  “How?” he murmured. “How does it keep getting better and better?”

  “No idea,” she said drowsily. “But it does.”

  Time slipped away and he couldn’t stop it. He had power over so many things in life, but not that. Having her in his arms now, he could not imagine the nights ahead where his arms held only his memories of her. He needed her as he needed sunshine. Existing in permanent grayness was possible—but she would bring brightness and joy.

  “You should see this place in the winter,” he murmured. “Sometimes it snows—not abundantly, but enough to cover everything with sparkling diamonds.”

  “How marvelous.”

  “It is, rather.” He rubbed his lips over the crown of her head. “My friends, the Union—this is a place for us. When we were younger, wilder—”

  “This is a tamer version of you?” She shot him a wry look.

  “Quiet, madam, or I will hold you down and fuck you with my mouth until you scream yourself hoarse.”

  “I fail to see how that’s supposed to deter me.”

  He nipped at her shoulder. “As I was saying before a saucy minx interrupted me, I bring my close friends here, but no one else.”

  “Yet you opened your doors to the Bazaar.”

  “I opened my doors to you,” he amended. “They happened to come along. That happens often—crowds gather around me. Always more and more people.”

  Leaning on her elbow, she propped her head on her hand. “You’re a popular man. Everyone wants to bask in your radiance.”

  He lay on his back to stare at the canopy. “Everyone wants something from me. They’ve told me whatever I wanted to hear, stuffed me with falsehoods and pretty fabrications, all to advance themselves. It’s been that way since . . .” He mulled it over. “Since always.”

  “Sounds lonely.”

  “Sometimes.” He turned his head to look at her. “I’ve got Rowe and Curtis and McCameron and Holloway—you haven’t met him yet. They’re genuine. In twenty years, they’ve never once fed me beautiful lies.” He snorted. “Can’t dine forever on untruths. You feel full, but you wind up starving to death.”

  “It’s an empty diet,” she said softly.

  “That’s why I don’t stomach it anymore. I used to, but the older I became, the less acceptance I had for it. The deceivers and the lying sycophants have no place in my life. I don’t have to endure that kind of dishonesty.” He captured her hand with his own and brought it to his lips. “There’s nothing to endure with you. Every moment with you is the best I’ve known. I know you, Jess. I trust you. With everything.”

  Now is the time. She had to feel how his heart sped up as he spoke the words he had never said before. “I have feelings for you, Jess. Strong feelings. I don’t want you to go to the Continent.” He held her steady with his gaze. “Stay here, with me.”

  Her soft, loose-limbed body stiffened. The moment he felt the change in her, icy fear stole through him. That fear grew and became monstrous as she disentangled herself from his embrace.

  She rose from the bed. Lifting himself up on his elbows, he watched her as she hunted down her nightgown and drew it on. Her face was a tight mask and she blinked hard, as if chasing away tears.

  “Jess?”

  “I—” She grabbed her shawl and threw it over her shoulders. When she finally met his gaze, her eyes were tormented, and her lower lip trembled.

  Remorse. That was what he saw in her face. A scouring sorrow that took the beautiful pleasure they’d made and turned it into something ash
en and cold.

  She dashed her knuckles across her eyes. “I can’t, Noel. I can’t—”

  Then she was gone, fleeing so quickly she barely had time to close the door behind her. Alone, naked, stripped bare of everything that had once protected him, Noel lay back in his vast, empty bed and stared at the canopy overhead.

  What have I done?

  Chapter 23

  “I can’t speak for you,” Lady Haighe said as she and Jess waited in the foyer while their luggage was loaded onto the carriage. “But I will be exceedingly happy to return to London today. Mind, His Grace’s house is lovely, and portrait-perfect Wiltshire farms are delightful—but there’s not enough to gossip about in the country.”

  Jess attempted a smile. Weariness made her bones heavy as iron—she’d been unable to sleep—and she felt ready to break apart at the slightest touch. “I’m certain you’ve missed nothing of importance while we’ve been away.”

  “Let us hope so.” Lady Haighe sniffed. “It is so dull out of the city.”

  Jess couldn’t agree. In the two nights that she had been away from London, her life had careened between exalted heights and profound lows. She pressed a hand to her throbbing head. Lack of sleep always gave her a headache, and now was no exception.

  “Still waiting?”

  Nerves alight, Jess turned at the sound of Noel’s voice. He descended the front stairs, and in his elegant traveling clothing, with his freshly shaven face and artfully tousled hair, he was every inch the polished, perfect duke. One would never know from looking at him that only eight hours ago he’d been begging her for sexual release, or that he’d pleasured her with his mouth until she’d thought she would perish from ecstasy.

  This morning, she learned that she could be both anguished and aroused at the same time.

  She tried not to flinch from his searching gaze as he reached the foyer. What could she tell him? She wished from the very depths of her soul that she could say, I have feelings for you, too. I want to stay with you. Because she did. She wished so much it was a steady agony beneath her skin.

  He deserved to hear those words spoken to him. But he couldn’t—not from her. Not when she didn’t deserve his adoration or his company.

  “Mr. Vale said it would be only a few more minutes until we were ready to leave.” Somehow, she managed to speak levelly. “He offered for everyone to finish their breakfasts at leisure. Lady Haighe seemed especially eager to get our journey underway, so I opted to keep her company as she waited out here.” Also, for Jess, the prospect of eating was entirely impossible.

  Noel offered Lady Haighe an easy smile. But Jess saw the tiny lines bracketing his mouth, and, upon closer inspection, there were shadows beneath his eyes. She’d done that—cost him his peace because of her deception.

  He said, “Eager to return to London’s bustle, Lady Haighe?”

  “There’s a decided lack of scandal in the country.” The older woman harrumphed.

  Jess’s gaze automatically found Noel’s, remembering their words to each other. She’d never forget the sight of him stroking himself at her command.

  “Although,” Lady Haighe added slyly, “things were emphatically more interesting for the younger set. Isn’t that so, Lady Whitefield?”

  Jess cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “If she doesn’t know,” Lady Haighe said pointedly to Noel, “then you didn’t do your job properly.”

  “I’m an excellent host,” he answered.

  “Beg pardon, Your Grace,” Gregory said as he approached. “Before you return to London, I hoped we could review a few more estate matters in the study.”

  “I’ll be there momentarily.” Noel bowed. “Excuse me, my ladies.”

  Once they were alone, Lady Haighe studied Jess. “Are you all right, my gel?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  “Because,” Lady Haighe said, stroking a hand down Jess’s cheek, “you look on the verge of noisy tears. Which seems out of character. Did he hurt you?” Her expression hardened. “If he did, I don’t care if he’s a ruddy duke. I’ll plant my knee in his bollocks.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” Jess rubbed her knuckles against her eyes, forcing back the very tears that Lady Haighe had noticed. “There’s no blame for Noel—I mean, His Grace. It’s all my doing.” She could say no more, but the urge to confess everything pushed at her. “He’s a good man. A wonderful man.”

  “And you care for him.”

  “I do.” This was wonderful and exhilarating and so painful that she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

  “Have you told him?” Lady Haighe asked.

  Jess shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” the older woman demanded. “His affection for you is clear. And you couldn’t be more plain if you wore a sign on your chest and rang a bell in the midday square. So, it’s established. You both adore each other. Nothing else is relevant.”

  “Things are exceptionally complicated.” Which was a very mild way of saying that if Noel knew the truth about her, who she was and what her purpose for being at the Bazaar was, everything would collapse in an unsalvageable heap. If she told him everything, if he understood that she had lied to him throughout their time together, her family’s business could be ruined. Yet if she said nothing, what she and Noel had together would be predicated on a lie. Eventually he would find out, bringing her right back to where she started. He’d be furious. Brokenhearted. Rightly so.

  If she was honest with him, and if by some miracle he still invested in McGale & McGale, she didn’t know if his feelings for her would be strong enough to continue. Could he care enough for her to see past her deception, and past his anger that was sure to come?

  She was strapped into an iron maiden, waiting for the spiked door to shut.

  “Child.” Lady Haighe took Jess’s chin between her thumb and forefinger in a grip that was astonishingly strong. “We’ve one certainty in life. Death comes for all of us. It doesn’t care who we are or what good or evil we’ve brought to the world. We all turn to dust.”

  “That’s rather grim.”

  “It is. Which is why I’m telling you that when you have a chance at something as rare as love, you take that chance.” Lady Haighe smiled sadly. “I found love, but because I was a scared girl, and because his skin was the wrong color for my family, I took the safe chance and married someone else, but the one who’d captured my heart . . .” The widow sighed. “He walked away. Found himself a lovely wife and they’ve gone on to have a beautiful family.”

  Lady Haighe released her hold on Jess to wipe at the sheen gathered in her eyes. “He found love and happiness again. And I’ve led a good life, but it’s been one without him. So listen to me, and listen well. You and His Grace have forged a rare bond. Don’t smash it apart because you were too afraid.”

  Jess swallowed as gratitude swelled, though she still didn’t know what she ought to do. “Thank you.”

  The widow raised an imperious brow. “And if you ever tell anyone I was tenderhearted toward you, I will deny it vehemently. I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

  “Naturally.”

  Lady Haighe glanced out the window beside the front door. She clicked her tongue. “Are they still loading the bloody carriages? How dull country life is.” The widow opened the door and strode out. “Are we leaving or do we plan on growing roots in the Hampshire soil?”

  Jess turned a slow circle as she stood alone in the foyer. She took in all the details of this room in Carriford, from its wooden paneled walls to the parquet floor, to the portraits of ancestors and several dogs—deerhounds. It was a wonderful house. Some fortunate woman would marry Noel and come here with their children and they’d have golden days and velvet nights.

  That woman wasn’t her.

  She knew this because she understood that no matter what, she had to tell Noel everything. He deserved it. He might pull his investment from McGale & McGale, and demand that the others withdraw in sol
idarity, but that was a chance she had to take.

  Once he learned the truth, he’d want nothing more to do with her. She would be banished from the kingdom of his heart, and spend the rest of her life in exile, with only the memory of the last few days to keep her company.

  Conversation in the carriage for the return journey was minimal. It seemed everyone was worn thin, between the Bazaar and the trip out to Wiltshire.

  Jess stared out the window as the carriage drove away to preserve Carriford’s image in her memory.

  Her gaze moved to Noel. Tension ripened between them, heavy almost to bursting. But they couldn’t speak candidly in front of Lady Haighe and Lord Pickhill, leaving the air thick with everything unsaid.

  She’d bolted last night, and he’d been so open, so vulnerable. She’d repaid his courage with cowardice. But that would come to an end once they reached London.

  Jess rehearsed what she would say to him, yet all the words she grasped seemed too clumsy to express how much he’d come to mean to her. It would be wrong and manipulative to tell him of her deception, then follow up with a declaration of her feelings. Emotions weren’t to be used like weapons or traps, hurting or ensnaring someone.

  Noel had donned his ducal mask, appearing as unruffled as if he’d been sitting in his favorite chair at Brooks’s.

  Lord Pickhill broke the silence. “Almost forgot that the Season’s still going strong. We’ve a few more weeks of assemblies and balls and God only knows what before we can rest for the duration of the summer.” He chuckled. “There’s to be a ball tonight at the Earl and Countess of Ashford’s home. There aren’t many from the Bazaar who were invited, but you must be, Your Grace.”

  “I’m obliged to attend,” Noel said. “Been trying to coordinate my schedule with Ashford and the ball’s the only opportunity we’ll have to speak to one another about a bill he’d like to sponsor.”

  “Surely you will attend, as well, Lady Whitfield,” Lord Pickhill pressed. “There will be an abundance of men of marriageable age who will be delighted by a pretty widow such as yourself.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “You do intend to marry again, do you not?”