A Duke but No Gentleman (29 page)

Her duke raised his head and their gazes met. From his smug expression, he was quite pleased with himself. He was never going to let her live this down.

By her fifth release, she was panting and could barely move.

“No more,” she begged. “If your goal was to melt my bones, you have succeeded. I congratulate you on your devious scheme. If you continue, I will be unable to leave this bed on my own.”

Tristan had the audacity to laugh at her. Imogene offered him a weak smile. She could not begrudge his mischief, when he looked so happy and unfettered from the rage that had been burning in his eyes since he had found her in his mother's bedchamber.

“You have deduced my wicked intentions,” he said, slowly rising to his feet. She laughed as he placed wet kisses on her stomach before crawling up the length of her body until they were face-to-face. “If I had my way, the nights without you in my bed would end this day. I consider it my duty to keep you boneless and satisfied.”

“Can a person die from too much pleasure?” she asked.

“My darling lady, give me some credit. I will never give you too much pleasure … you have my promise that you will always have just what you require,” he said, his eyes glowing with amusement and something she could not quite define.

Imogene had her answer a minute later. Her eyes flared as she felt the head of his manhood press against the nest of damp curls between her legs. Without any hesitation, she shifted her right leg so he could—
there
.

She was so drenched, Tristan slipped easily within her. He made a soft growling sound of approval as she felt her body stretch around his manhood. Before she could marvel at how perfectly they fit together, he began to move within her. Slowly, at first. His mouth closed over hers, and she could taste herself on his lips, She arched her back, savoring the feel of her erect nipples raking his chest.

“Christ, Imogene—I do not know if I can hold on. You feel—” He clenched his teeth as if he was in pain, and his pace quickened.

Imogene understood the wildness driving him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and slightly lifted her hips, silently inviting him to not be gentle. His eyes widened in surprise, and she saw flashes of relief and approval cross his face. He clasped her by the hips, and began to thrust at such a frenzied pace that she understood at once that he had been holding back for her sake.

“Are you mine?” she gasped, amazed that the lethargy that had overtaken her was fading as she felt the fires he was building within her.

His eyes were glazed with lust and his expression was fierce when he uttered, “Aye, love.” Tristan thrust deeply. “Yours.”

Anyone walking past the bedchamber door would have overheard his strangled shout of elation as he surrendered to the blinding pleasure. Tristan tugged her hips closer and buried his face against her neck as his seed filled her in copious pumps. Imogene cradled him in her arms, and this time she let the tears flow.

When his breathing had calmed, Tristan lifted his head and was distressed at the sight of her tears. “You have been crying.”

“Tears of joy, Your Grace,” she said, smiling up at him. “Every time I think our lovemaking cannot be bested, you prove me wrong.”

He laughed, which caused his manhood to twitch deep within her. Sobering, he braced his weight on one arm as his other hand slipped lower until his palm covered her belly. “Has our love play disturbed my son?”

Imogene was not fooled by his casual tone. Tristan wanted to know if he had banished her fears. If a child had been conceived, the duke was the sire. He had no doubts. “Your son is fine, Your Grace.”

If she was wrong about her delicate condition, she was positive her days and nights in Tristan's bed would swiftly remedy her error.

“Good. Do you have any objections to our announcing our betrothal tomorrow evening?”

A wave of shyness washed over her. It was ridiculous considering that she was naked in her lover's bed. “Not a one.”

If Imogene resisted, she suspected Tristan would keep her in his bed until he seduced the correct answer from her lips. It was a pleasurable notion. However, she was too tired to fight him. “I am yours if you will have me.”

He gave her a roguish grin. “Oh, I will, darling. Again and again.”

Tristan spent the rest of the afternoon rewarding her for making the right decision.

 

Chapter Twenty-two

In a short time, Norgrave's life had become positively domestic.

He smiled indulgently at the woman admiring the amethyst necklace he had given her in front of the small mirror mounted on the dressing table. Clad only in a chemise, Lady Charlotte made a charming picture. It was a pity he did not have any skill with a pencil.

Since the day she had entered the proverbial lion's den, he had relieved her of her maidenhead and done things to her virginal body that he had only experienced with whores. The gradual corruption of innocence had held his interest for days. Sometimes she had been eager. More often than not, she had fought him, and that is when he closed his eyes and pretended that she was the defiant Lady Imogene, her eyes damp and filled with what she perceived as betrayal. In those brief moments, he could almost believe he loved her.

Lady Charlotte was never mad at him for long. He knew how to break down a lady's resistance and convince her that his passion for her had caused him to handle her roughly. The necklace and other small tokens of affection had assuaged all hurts. If she had not believed she was in love with him, she would have wondered how he had procured the necklace so quickly. He had several that he kept in a locked box for such situations. This particular one had already been offered to another lady. When she realized that he had only given her the necklace as a parting gift, she had hurled the jewelry at his head and marched out of the room. Her fit of temper had prompted him to chase after her. He had shoved her onto her knees and mounted her with savage enthusiasm. When his seed had been spent, she had been eager to see the last of him.

“Oh, Cason, it is the most beautiful necklace I have ever owned,” Lady Charlotte said, returning to the bed that they had just shared.

Norgrave grasped her hand. “If it is, then your father has been miserly with his affection. A few months ago, I noticed one of his mistresses was wearing a similar necklace and the center stone was the size of a pigeon's egg.”

The blonde frowned. “My father is devoted to my mother. He would never take a mistress.”

“Ah, little innocent.” He pulled her back into bed, and rolled her onto her back. “I grant you, the gentleman is discreet. Nevertheless, from the looks of his latest one, I predict you will have a new half-sibling in four months.”

Lady Charlotte's expression grew mutinous. “I do not believe you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” he silkily asked.

Already familiar with that particularly dangerous inflection, she shook her head. “Of course not, my love. Forgive me for implying that you are spinning tales. It is just … my father.”

Since she apologized so prettily, he decided to be benevolent. The necklace was an indication of his boredom and he was content to let her go before he ruined her completely. His convalescence was over, and he was hungry for a lover who enjoyed the pain he could inflict on her.

“I understand, my dear,” he said in soothing tones. “We place those we love on such high pedestals. It hurts when they do not live up to our expectations.”

Lady Charlotte nodded, but the seeds of doubt were already sprouting. Norgrave did not know if her father had a mistress or not. He did not truly care. Her blind devotion to her family irritated him. Now she would always look at her father and wonder if he was a liar and an adulterer.

“What time is it, do you think?”

“After two o'clock, I suppose,” Norgrave said, stifling a yawn. “Why do you ask?”

“I must return home,” she said as she touched the necklace. “My family and I are attending Lord and Lady Ludsthorpes' ball this evening. Rumor has it, the Duke of Blackbern will be announcing his betrothal to Lady Imogene. Not that it is much of a surprise. It is obvious to everyone that the duke is in love with her.”

Lady Charlotte's voice faded into the distance as the blood roared in Norgrave's ears. He abruptly sat up in an attempt to ease the pain in his head. Blackbern intended to marry Imogene. He caressed the healing wound on his cheek as if it somehow brought him closer to the lady who had marked him. Blackbern was marrying the chit? He had never shown any interest in marriage. What Norgrave had done to Imogene should have sent his former friend scurrying away from the lady. Instead, Blackbern had tried to kill him and now he was marrying the lady who Norgrave considered his. Damn it all, the infuriating man was ruining everything.

“Cason, are you listening?” Lady Charlotte asked, her face clouded with unwarranted concern.

“What are you blathering about?” he snapped, and she recoiled at his impatience.

“I asked if you were planning to attend the ball this evening?” she said, unaware that her news had soured his mood. “I know there has been friction between you and the duke. However, betrothals are a cause for celebration, and a time for the two of you to put aside your differences.”

“Was that the only reason that you wanted me to attend?”

There was something in his tone that had her edging away from him. “I—I thought you might pay your respects to my mother and father.”

His hard smile heralded a brewing storm. “Have you told them that you begged me to fuck you?”

Lady Charlotte flinched as if he had struck her. “No! How could you describe what we did so crudely? What is wrong with you?”

What is wrong with me? I am not Blackbern.

The lady was far from finished with her tantrum. “You told me several times that you loved me. You gave me this lovely necklace. I would have never allowed you to touch me if I thought you did not—”

“Pray, shut your mouth,” he said with biting politeness. “Due to your limited skills, I can only think of one or two things you are capable of doing with that tongue.”

She gasped and backed away from the bed.

Oblivious to his nakedness, he stalked her. “Is there an hour in the day that you are
silent
? I can barely form a rational thought with you prattling on and on.”

Lady Charlotte's hands went to her neck and fumbled for the clasp. “If you feel that way, then you can keep your precious necklace. I no longer want it.”

“Do you plan on tossing it in my face?” He sneered. “Strive for something original. The last chit I bribed into my bed with that necklace threw it at me when I told her that I had grown tired of her.”

“You mean—” The tears that filled her hurt gaze left him unmoved. Her lips trembled. “Do you feel anything for me, Cason?”

“Only that you were a means to an end, my dear lady,” he said carelessly. “Dallying with you relieved the boredom, and for an hour or two, I even entertained the notion of marrying you. I could do worse and with the proper training you would make an adequate wife.” He shook his head. “Then I came to my senses and realized that I could do better. Keep the necklace or leave it. I no longer care.”

He turned his back on her.

It was the final straw. Lady Charlotte screamed and charged Norgrave. There was mild surprise on his face, when he pivoted and she raked her fingernails across his face. He cried out in pain as part of the scab on his cheek was ripped away. Blood coursed down his cheek.

“You bloody bitch!” he roared. Norgrave backhanded her in retaliation. The blow sent the lady crashing into the dressing table. The top of her head cracked the small rectangular mirror.

“Did you honestly convince yourself that you were worthy of a man like me?” he shouted at her.

Lady Charlotte glared at him as she straightened. Her cheek was red from his blow. She tore the necklace from her throat and threw it at him. “I hate you … I hate you … I hate you!” She said the words over and over as she struck his shoulders, face, and chest with her fists.

Norgrave roughly grabbed her, and they fell to the rug. He landed on top, and quickly gained the advantage because he had no qualms about using his strength. To shut her up, he slapped her across the face. By the fourth slap, he was fully aroused and the lady was whimpering.

“Your spirit is astoundingly inspiring, Lady Charlotte,” he said, rolling her onto her stomach and pulling her up so she was on her hands and knees. She tried to crawl away, but he held her in place. Norgrave spat into his hand and grabbed his cock. He pushed the head into the cleft of her buttocks. “Perhaps I am not quite done with you, after all.”

All of the servants halted at the sound of a woman's screams. It was not an unfamiliar sound in this household, but everyone knew their master had been amusing himself with a lady of quality. She was young and her obvious distress caused several of the footmen to take a courageous step toward the stairs.

“See to your duties or face getting sacked without references,” the butler curtly said. He glared at all of them until they wandered off.

Alone, Starling cast his concerned gaze at the empty stairs, and shook his head in dismay. He hoped the lady's screams could not be heard from the street. Lord Norgrave would be furious if the watch knocked on the front door.

If anyone made inquiries, he would handle them. He always did. Over the years, he had become quite proficient at cleaning up his lordship's messes.

*   *   *

Tristan waited at the bottom of the staircase for his soon-to-be-bride. After standing in line for several hours beside Lord and Lady Ludsthorpe as they greeted guests and well-wishers, Imogene had slipped away for a few minutes of privacy. His uncle had teased that Tristan should expect to spend the rest of his life waiting for the females in his life, but he did not mind as long as Imogene eventually made her way back to him.