A Duke but No Gentleman (18 page)

Tristan stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He massaged the delicate muscles to ease the tightness and to offer comfort. “You can tell me anything. Your secrets are safe with me.” He swept her curls aside so he could kiss the nape of her neck.

“What about me?” she softly asked.

His right hand slipped under her arm as he pulled her against him so her backside aligned to his front. Her closeness and womanly scent filled his nose. Her essence shot downward to his testicles. His cock, which had been partially erect since he had touched her in the coach, expanded and lengthened as he rubbed himself against her.

“Aye, Imogene,” he murmured as his hand slowly moved upward, his nimble fingers unfastening the buttons on the front of her dress. He discovered once he had slipped his hand beneath the bodice that she had laced her stays in the front. “Your secrets and you are safe in my care.”

It was a sincere vow. However, he buried his face in the curve of her shoulder to conceal his wince as he belatedly recalled the damn wager. He was determined to put an end to Norgrave's schemes, but it would not be a simple task. Especially, when his friend figured out that Tristan had claimed the lady whom he coveted.

“Yes.”

Savoring the feel of her in his arms, he had forgotten about his question. “Yes?” he echoed, eyeing the bed and calculating how long it would take to undress her.

Imogene bowed her head. “I have never been very good at subterfuge. I assumed you had deduced my feelings weeks ago.”

Tristan's chest tightened at her admission. The building pressure caused his heart to pound. “No, you are not a very good liar,” he said, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. “Is it so difficult to speak the words?”

“Am I being foolish?” She expelled a breathy laugh. “I suppose hundreds of ladies have told you that they were in love with you.”

Tristan thought of the women who had come in and out of his life. For many of them, his good looks, title, and wealth had been coveted as prizes. Others had only wanted his cock buried between their thighs. None of them had cared about him until he had walked out of their lives.

He turned her around, and used his fingers to lift her chin when she refused to meet his gaze. “No lady has ever truly loved me until you.”

Imogene offered him a small smile. “Well, I have yet to admit it out loud.”

He kissed her and nipped her lower lip to chastise her for torturing him. “Impertinent wench. Give me the words.”

“I love you.”

Tristan nodded and lowered his head until his forehead touched hers. His heart ached, and it took him a few minutes to recognize the emotion threatening to unman him as elation. “It took you long enough to admit it.”

“Do you?” Imogene looked uncomfortable as she glanced away.

“Do I what?” he coaxed.

She swallowed. “Do you have feelings for me?”

The vulnerability and love he glimpsed in her dark blue eyes breached the cracks in the protective walls he had built around his heart since he had lost both his father and mother at a tender age. Her love filled him with strength, tenderness, and a fierce need to protect her. Love had a darker side. Tristan felt jealousy and fear. He could not bear the thought of losing her. “Aye, my lady. I have so many feelings churning in my chest that I am struggling not to get overwhelmed by them.”

“You love me?”

“I need to show you,” Tristan said, shuffling his feet closer. He was not the kind of man who openly confessed his feelings. It was simpler for him to demonstrate the depths of his affection for her with his body.

His lips touched hers with reverence. He kissed her as if he could keep her in his bed until morning. Their tongues teased and danced, a hint of the love play to come. He undressed her with the same deliberate slowness, worshiping every inch of her flesh he revealed. He traced the contours of her body with his fingers and tongue that sent her pulse racing and the folds between her legs drenched with her arousal. When he placed her naked on his bed, there was a primitive satisfaction in his gaze that she was as eager for their coupling as he was. He swiftly undressed and climbed on the bed.

Imogene's fingers closed around the shaft of his cock and she wordlessly pulled him closer. He covered her with his body, and his fingers sought the hot, damp flesh between her legs. He filled her with a single stroke.

Tristan began to move within her.

Love and lust battled for domination until a fine sheen of perspiration dampened their flesh and their bodies strained for completion. In perfect harmony, their cries of ecstasy blended as the delicate muscles of her sheath milked his cock as his release pumped in forceful spurts deep within her.

After a few minutes, he gasped, “So … love, eh?”

Imogene giggled and nodded.

He had never experienced such a soul-shattering release.

Before he had met Imogene, Tristan had bedded countless women, but he had never shared his body with love in his heart.

It was exhilarating and terrifying.

He and Imogene were running out of time. Soon, they would have to dress and he would escort her home, because she was not his to keep. It was a realization that he was gradually coming to hate.

*   *   *

“So this is not your first picnic here with Blackbern?”

A few days had passed since the night Tristan had brought her to his town house and they had spent several hours in his bed. Sated and exhausted from his enthusiastic lovemaking, Tristan had suggested that they return to the lake for an afternoon picnic. She was in love and was overjoyed that he was planning their next tryst. Imogene had not expected Norgrave to join them. From her duke's enigmatic expression, she could not tell if he was pleased or upset by their uninvited guest. Perhaps he could not think of a plausible reason to refuse the gentleman's request.

“Ah, no,” she admitted as soon as she realized that she was on her own since Tristan appeared disinterested in offering the marquess an explanation. “After Blackbern ruined a picnic—”

“Utter lies,” Tristan halfheartedly protested. “Do not listen to her, Norgrave.”

“A picnic that I had planned with friends—” She blushed, recalling her quiet confession to the duke that she was dreadful when it came to subterfuge. “Blackbern was most definitely
not
invited!”

“Asher was one of the guests,” Tristan explained to his friend. It was apparent that he did not view Lord Asher as one of her friends.

Good grief, was he jealous?

She opened her mouth and then promptly pressed her lips together. It had never occurred to her that Tristan viewed the gentleman as a serious rival for her affections.

Imogene was so distracted by the revelation that she had lost her place in the story. She brushed aside the thought with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, Blackbern was apologetic and he brought me here to make up for his rudeness.”

She glanced over at Tristan and noted his arched eyebrow.

Have I revealed too much?

Tristan shrugged.

For reasons Imogene could not fathom, he was reluctant to admit to Norgrave that he had shared a part of his past with her. Considering what they had done near the old folly, perhaps it would have been wiser to keep her mouth shut.

Noticing her discomfort, a slow smile eased Tristan's somber expression. “Well, my lady, you might not have appreciated my presence, but Asher was very grateful,” he teased, placing his hand on the small of her back as the trio strolled toward the lake.

The gesture did not go unnoticed by Norgrave.

“How long ago was this infamous picnic?” the marquess inquired.

“How long—oh, I don't know,” she said, looking to the duke for assistance. So much had happened between them. “Tris—ah, Blackbern, do you recall the exact date?”

Imogene prayed her mistake was less obvious to her companions. She could not believe she had been so careless.

Tristan shrugged. “A few weeks ago, I suppose. Maybe longer. Does it matter?”

Norgrave shook his head. “Not at all.” His gaze switched to his friend. “Blackbern has always had a problem with sharing. It was generous of him to drive you all the way out here to apologize for his boorish behavior. I cannot remember the last time I visited this place, and I have known him for most of my life.”

“Do not sulk, Norgrave,” Tristan said, his expression betraying his annoyance. “The land has been in the hands of tenants for more than a decade. I invited Imogene to join me so I could look the estate over before I rent it again.”

“How convenient the lady was available on that particular day,” his friend drawled.

Norgrave turned away so he did not see Tristan take a furious step toward him or Imogene's silent plea for him to halt as she divided her attention between the two men. With his back to the couple, the marquess nodded. “And a very cozy arrangement, indeed. I am positively jealous.”

Since his words were closer to the truth than anyone wanted to admit, Tristan glared at his friend. “Come along, Imogene. We need to feed Norgrave before he decides to test his sharp teeth on my arse.”

 

Chapter Fourteen

The minute the butler had announced the Duke of Blackbern was standing in their front hall and was requesting to speak privately with the Duke of Trevett's elder daughter, Imogene had forgotten about the letter she was writing and headed for the door.

“If you hope to catch that particular duke, I suggest that you strive not to appear so eager,” her mother said, not even glancing up from her sewing.

“Yes, Mama. It is good advice,” she said, deciding flattery was the best course to soften her mother's opinion toward Blackbern.

Imogene had not told anyone—not even her marriage-wary duke—but she intended to marry him. The last few weeks, she had demonstrated to Tristan that she was the perfect mistress; now it was time to show him that what he really needed was a duchess to fill his house with love and laughter.

She also had to convince her mother.

“I will pass along your regards to Blackbern,” Imogene said, pretending not to hear the disgruntled sound the duchess made in her throat when she disagreed. She quietly shut the door and headed downstairs.

Tristan had his back to her when she descended the staircase. His attire suggested he had plans to travel. This was not a social visit.

“When are you leaving?”

He turned at her solemn question. His possessive gaze inspected every inch of her. It gave her hope that he would return to her. “Good afternoon, my lady. You look quite fetching in that dress. It puts color in your cheeks.”

“I thought that was your favorite task,” she teased.

“Unfortunately, I will have to delegate the pleasurable task to Norgrave and your other suitors.” His demeanor was formal for the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping, but she noted the apology in his eyes. “I have neglected some important estate matters and they can no longer wait.”

“How long will you be gone?” she demanded, resisting the urge to make him feel guilty over leaving her.

“Four days. Maybe longer.” Tristan bent his head near her ear. “I shall miss you.”

Imogene nodded, struggling not to cry. “Have a safe journey, Blackbern.” Before he could step away, she kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”

He straightened and stared at her as if he could not quite trust his hearing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and the expanding pain in her chest when he did not echo her declaration. It was unfair to demand something he could not offer her freely.

To prove that she could walk away from him, she smiled at him. “If I get betrothed, I will write you so you can return for the wedding.”

Content that she had had the last word, she turned on her heel and walked to the stairs. Her foot had not touched the third step before Tristan had caught up to her, snatched her off the stairs, and kissed her hard enough that she would feel his mouth on hers an hour later.

“I will challenge any man who offers to marry you,” he said, the violence in his eyes contradicting the gentleness of his touch. “If you care for any of these simpering fools, you will wait for my return.”

He stalked off, not even interested in her response.

Imogene brought her fingers to her lips. Suddenly she grinned and her mood lightened. His threat was not the declaration she longed for, but he had days alone to improve on it.

*   *   *

Norgrave sought out Imogene as soon as he learned of Blackbern's departure.

Imogene's face warmed with affection when he entered the drawing room. “Lord Norgrave, how kind of you to pay us a visit!” She extended her hand, and he was pleased he had a reason to touch her.

He bowed over her hand.

“Lady Imogene,” he murmured for her mother's benefit. “Your Grace, I trust you are well?”

“No worse than any other day, Lord Norgrave. Thank you for asking,” the duchess politely replied.

He suspected the older woman did not approve of him. If so, he doubted Blackbern fared any better with the lady.

“Mama, with your permission, I would like to show Lord Norgrave our gardens since it is a temperate afternoon,” Imogene said, stepping in front of him as if she thought he needed her protection.

“An excellent suggestion,” her mother murmured.

Imogene hesitated. “Would you care to join us?”

“I will have to regretfully decline. Of late, my left ankle has been troubling me.” The duchess waved her and Norgrave off. “Enjoy your walk.”

Once they were out of the drawing room, Imogene linked her arm through his. “I cannot believe you are here. How did you know I needed rescuing?”

He wondered how she would react if he stopped and kissed her. Since he did not want to ruin the moment, he resisted his impulses and patted her hand. “I am pleased to be of service, my lady, though I cannot fathom why you needed saving from your sweet mother.”