A Duke of Her Own (18 page)

“They have excellent taste.”

Before she could respond, he covered her mouth with his, his tongue imploring her lips to part. Cradling her face with his large hands, he angled her head so he could deepen the kiss.

He had told her tonight would not be as it had been in the library, and already she could sense the difference. There was no hurry, no rush. Just a slow, deep kiss that caused a yearning so intense she thought she might die from it.

When he drew back, his eyes were darkened with the passion she thought she might never know again.

“When you said tonight would be different, I thought you meant it would be without passion,” she murmured.

He dipped down and lifted her into his arms. “While tonight will be different, I assure you there will be passion.”

She wound her arms around his neck and
nestled her head against his shoulder. “I’m ever so glad.”

He chuckled low. “Who would have thought you’d be incredibly easy to please?”

“I’m always quite agreeable.”

“No, you’re not, and I forbid you to change.”

He laid her on the bed and stood looking down on her. “I like that you challenge me,” he said. “I like that you state your mind.”

He loosened his sash, and his dressing gown parted to reveal the splendor of him.

“I like that you’re unafraid,” he said.

She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m only afraid of disappointing you.”

“You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”

He shrugged off the silk, and before it had skimmed halfway down his back, he was draped halfway over her body, his mouth covering hers in a kiss unlike any he’d given her before. This one, she knew instinctively, was to be delivered to no one except her. She was not the messenger.

She was the recipient. The one to whom he was delivering the gift. And what a gift it was. He was holding nothing back, and while she sensed his eagerness, his hunger, there was no hurry, and she was slowly coming to realize what he’d meant when he’d told her that tonight would not be as the other.

Tonight they were in no danger of being caught. Tonight they had no need to be done as quickly as possible. Tonight it quite possibly might take longer than a matter of minutes. She
did wish she’d taken time to put on a bit more perfume.

Not that he seemed to find fault with anything at all. He eased one side of her nightgown off her shoulder and nibbled the newly exposed skin. She shivered as his tongue caressed what his teeth had grazed.

She adored the weight of his body on hers, the light dusting of hair over his chest. She relished his patience as he slowly revealed more of her flesh. He’d not seen the full length of her before, nor she him. She wondered if he would find her as pleasing as she found him now.

She couldn’t explain why she didn’t feel shy, why she didn’t try to hide herself when he finally removed her nightgown. Perhaps because he was now her husband—her husband! Perhaps it was because she’d been as intimate with him as a woman could be with a man.

Perhaps it was simply because she was coming to realize that she cared for him deeply, that perhaps she had for a while and had simply not wanted to acknowledge it. That in truth, she’d not sought to stop him before because no other man intrigued her as he did. No other man caused her heart to stir or her skin to warm.

No other man made her long for a dowry as he did. Yet even without it, she’d found herself married to him.

Raised up on an elbow, he leisurely allowed his heated gaze to roam over her flushed body like a gentle caress. She wanted to pull him down, ask
him not to torture her so. She’d had the courage to go out in the world and hire herself out as a social chaperone, but she lacked the bravery to ask of her husband what she so desperately desired: his hands, mouth, and body covering hers.

Suddenly he returned his mouth to hers, his eagerness more evident, his desire more apparent. With his hands and mouth, he made her feel treasured, and she sought to make him feel the same, running her palms over his broad shoulders, along his chest, down his flat stomach.

“Teach me how to pleasure you,” she said at one point, and she felt his moan of approval vibrating through his body.

He taught her where to touch him—everywhere. No place was forbidden, no portion of his body did not want to be touched. She was amazed by the varying textures, amazed by his patience as he gave her leave to explore every inch of him with her hands and her mouth as he had explored her. When his breathing got so harsh, his body so tight, he groaned, “Enough!”

She found herself not on her back, but on her stomach, with his mouth trailing along her spine.

“You have dimples,” he said, and she heard in his voice that he was pleased.

“Only when I smile,” she murmured.

Laughing, he kissed the curve of her backside. “No, here. And here.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I suspect you will find I look at your body much more closely than you do.”

He kissed behind her knees, kissed her ankles, kissed her toes.

Then he dropped down on his back beside her. “Straddle me.”

In his demand was a request and she couldn’t deny it. She was beginning to think that she couldn’t deny this man anything he asked. He was an attentive lover, and she couldn’t help but believe that his attentiveness would extend beyond the bedroom. Had she not already seen evidence of his caring?

He positioned her above him. “Go at your leisure, inch by inch, no hurry, no rush, no discomfort.”

“As you promised.”

“As I promised.” He cupped the back of her head and brought her down to him for a slow, sensual kiss that demanded nothing and in so doing, demanded everything.

He filled her as slowly as dawn pushed back the night. Raised up on her arms above him, she bowed her head, allowing her hair to form a silken curtain around them. She rocked against him, feeling the pleasure mounting as his fingers caressed her breasts while his tongue and lips made love to her mouth.

Pleasure coursed through her, increasing in intensity, until suddenly it was no longer content to linger but rushed forward with purpose. He was thrusting his hips, his body tightening beneath her as she met each thrust. She writhed above him, wanting more, wanting everything—

And when it arrived, it eclipsed all that had come before.

Hawk lay with Louisa curled against his side, his body sated and still glistening with sweat. He was familiar with her now. He knew every dip, curve, and flat plane of her body, because he had pressed his lips to every inch of her flesh. He knew the sound of her moans, her cries, her gasps.

He knew what it felt like when she reached the pinnacle of pleasure and her body clutched his and pulsed around him afterward.

He knew everything. No surprises remained.

Yet he wanted her again with a fierceness that astounded him.

He’d covered them with a sheet to keep her warm, and now he wanted to cast it aside so he could gaze on all her naked glory.

He felt her eyelashes flutter against his chest. He looked down at her and found her looking up at him, a contented smile on her face.

“I thought it always happened quickly,” she said.

“Not always.”

She reached down and began to stroke him. His body responded immediately.

“You only have one.”

He arched a brow in question. “Yes?”

“So how can you have two ladies at once?”

He did not want to get into all the details, so he simply said, “They took turns.”

“I don’t think I would like sharing you with another woman.”

He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “You won’t have to.”

She rose up on her elbow, looking down on him, so serious. “You told me it is the thrill of the hunt you enjoy.”

He swallowed at the reminder of how well she’d known him, before she truly knew him. “Yes.”

“You conquer and move on.”

“Yes.”

Sadness touched her eyes. “I believe I have been well and truly conquered.”

“Yet here I am, wanting you again.”

“But you will grow bored with me after a time.”

“I cannot imagine it, but if it comes to pass…I will not be unfaithful to you, Louisa.”

She gave him a smile, dipped her head, and ran her tongue around his nipple. He moaned low.

“Perhaps I shall accept the challenge of keeping you from getting bored,” she said.

He rolled her onto her back. “And perhaps I shall accept the challenge of pleasuring you at least once more before I go to sleep.”

And he did just that.

L
ouisa awoke that morning to find herself still in Hawk’s arms. After he made love to her once again, very, very slowly, he left her to see to his affairs.

As she stepped on to the terrace, she realized that until recently she would have thought he was talking about visiting other women, but she had no doubt he was referring to the affairs of his estates. He might not love her, he might never love her, but she did trust he’d keep his word and remain faithful.

Just as she would remain faithful to him.

She’d learned he was a man who took actions based on obligations and responsibilities, while she was a woman who made her choices based on love.

She stumbled to a stop. She’d made her decision to become a social chaperone because of her conviction that she’d never have love. She’d married Hawkhurst because of her desire to protect a child who might not even be growing within her. She’d not married Hawkhurst because of love for him, yet she couldn’t deny that she’d begun to have some affection for him, a sentiment that had begun with his first atrocious attempt to discredit a lord. He was a gentleman, and he could stir passion.

Perhaps in time a fondness would develop between them. She could hope for that, pray for it. Anticipate it. Perhaps she could even instigate it. Did affection breed affection?

Passion certainly seemed to result in passion. Could passion lead to love? Was it possible she’d gain more than she’d bargained for?

She wanted a few moments alone to contemplate those intriguing thoughts before she sought out Hawkhurst’s mother and asked her what duties she could see to around the house. She didn’t want to usurp the dowager duchess’s authority, but neither was Louisa accustomed to idle moments.

She began to walk through the lush gardens and immediately her thoughts drifted back to Hawkhurst. Strange how her opinion of him had changed so drastically in such a short time. She realized now that her entire original estimation of him had been based on Alex’s drunken ramblings, the ramblings of a man she had trusted
and shouldn’t have. A man who had betrayed her in one of the worst ways possible, by duping her into believing his lies, by setting her up in order to destroy her. He knew full well the consequences of his actions, how she would suffer, and what it would cost her. Yet still he carried through on them. She thought she might never recover from his betrayal. If she never saw him again, it would be far too soon.

That thought brought her equal sadness because he was her brother, and she’d never expected not to have him in her life. What had his actions gained him, except a lack of respect for himself?

She spotted Caroline sitting on a bench beneath the wide boughs of a tree, a book in her lap. She looked young and as innocent as Hawk claimed her to be. Louisa was reminded of Kate, always reading. She wondered if both ladies read in order to escape into a world much more pleasant than the one in which they lived.

Louisa could hardly blame them. Of late, she’d had moments where escape had been incredibly tempting, but in the end she’d remained in reality.

Louisa contemplated returning to the manor, but she’d done this girl a disservice, whether intentional or not, and she was determined to do what she could to make it up to the girl, one way or another. But perhaps she would do it later. Talk to the girl—

Caroline looked up, smiled brightly, and waved.
There was no hope for it. Louisa would have to say something. She walked over, taking delight in the cloudless sky, hoping for Caroline’s sake that some sort of meaningful conversation would come to her. She’d never before spoken as an equal to someone in Caroline’s situation, and it was imperative that she do so, that she do nothing to make the girl feel less valuable because of the circumstances of her birth.

If not for Hawk’s insistence they marry, Louisa might have given birth to a child who would have faced the same challenges.

“Hello,” Louisa said, smiling. Perhaps, over time as they became better acquainted, Caroline would become the sister Louisa had never had. “What are you reading?”

“Something you’ve probably never read,” Caroline said, her bright smile turning mischievous.

Louisa sat on the bench beside her. “You might be surprised. I’ve done quite a bit of reading.”

“This is the only copy in existence,” Caroline said.

“Oh, a very rare edition, then.” She angled her head, studying the binding. “It doesn’t look that old. What’s the title?”

“Once Upon a Magical Moor.”

“You guessed correctly. I’ve never read it.” She leaned closer. “Never heard of it actually. What’s it about?”

“It’s the tale of a faerie princess, only she doesn’t know she’s a faerie or a princess. She just thinks she’s an ordinary girl until magical things start
to happen. It’s really good. Would you like to read it?”

“Perhaps when you’re finished with it.”

She laughed lightly. “I’ve read it a hundred times at least.” She held it out to Louisa. “Please, I would love for you to read it.”

Louisa took it from her. “Thank you. I’ll be very careful with it.” She turned back the thick paper cover and read the inscription:

“Your brother gave it to you,” she murmured quietly, struck by his promise always to love her, a child born out of wedlock, a child destined to become his burden.

“He did more than that,” Caroline said. “He wrote it.”

Louisa snapped her head around. “Pardon?”

“Yes, it’s one of three that he’s given me.” Suddenly Caroline was looking quite serious. “When I was child, I would get so lonely, and Hawk would write stories for me, so I would have friends. Friends whom he promised would never leave me. Although I’m almost a grown lady, I still enjoy reading them. I like to think that someday I shall have a daughter to read them to. Hawk promised me that I would marry. He always keeps his promises.”

“You care for him very much, don’t you?” Louisa said, stunned to realize a man she’d
thought so poorly of had this girl’s absolute devotion.

How she wished he’d revealed more of himself to her, that she had truly known him. She would have recommended him to Jenny without misgivings.

Caroline laughed lightly. “Of course. He’s my brother. But even if he weren’t, I would still care for him a great deal. I don’t see how anyone cannot care for him. You married him, so you must love him. You do, don’t you?”

“People marry for many reasons, Caroline.”

“Or not marry,” she said quietly. She looked down at her book still resting in Louisa’s lap, reached over, and touched the words written with such care on the paper. Then she lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with earnestness. “My mother didn’t marry my father.”

“I know. We don’t have to talk about it.”

She smiled shyly. “You’re like everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one wants to talk about…my situation. They think if they don’t talk about it, then my feelings will be spared. But sometimes what is not said hurts as much as what might be said.”

At the wisdom of the girl’s words, Louisa reached over and squeezed her hand. Hawk had wanted so badly to marry a lady with money so he could give to Caroline what he thought she needed. Perhaps all she needed was not to feel as though she were a secret, hidden away, not to be discussed.

“Do you know anything about your father?” Louisa asked, then held her breath, wondering if she’d been too bold. She could easily see Kate or Jenny asking such an impertinent question without any compunction. Had she picked up their brazen habits in such a short time while in their company?

“I know he loved my mother.” She widened her eyes. “And me. He wanted to marry her, but she said it wouldn’t be fair to Hawk, and her first obligation had to be to him.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean that she loved Hawk more—”

“Oh, no, I know she loves us the same, but Hawk is a duke, and she said it wouldn’t do for her to marry the man she loved. I always thought that was sad. It’s the reason we never go to London, because she didn’t want to bring Hawk shame or scandal before he found a wife. But now that he’s married, I think we can go to London. I would like to attend a ball, more than anything.”

“Do you know how to dance?”

“Oh, yes, Hawk taught me.”

“Last night during dinner…the conversation…he promised you a Season after he was married.”

She nodded. “He said it was best to wait, because Mother doesn’t want to come to London, and so he needed a wife who could serve as my chaperone and give me an entry into Society.”

A wife with money who could do a great deal more than that.

“Do you know where your brother is now?” Louisa asked.

“Looking over the estate I imagine. It’s silly really, because he has only a couple of tenants left, and the income they provide us is hardly worth the effort.” She leaned near. “Mama says they actually cost us, because Hawk will see that they are fed in winter. He is very generous in that regard. Looking out for those entrusted to his care.”

“So I’m coming to realize,” Louisa murmured.

“He does not boast of his good deeds,” Caroline said.

“No, he doesn’t,” Louisa said.

Caroline angled her head slightly. “Sometimes you say things in such a way it makes me believe you don’t know Hawk at all.”

“I think it is the way of marriage that one learns new things about the other every day.”

“Did he kneel when he asked for your hand in marriage?”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she remembered—

“Yes, he was kneeling,” she admitted.

“I imagine it was frightfully romantic.”

“I can honestly say that I have never been so touched in my entire life.”

“I fear I shall never have the love of a gentleman,” Caroline said wistfully.

Louisa sighed. Here she was a married woman with the same fear.

“You’ve known Hawk for years,” Caroline murmured.

“Yes.”

The girl held Louisa’s gaze. “But you didn’t know about me, did you?”

Louisa swallowed hard, wishing she’d kept their time together short. “No.” She smiled. “But then you didn’t know about me either, so it worked out didn’t it?”

Caroline looked away. “Not really.”

“I’ve known who your brother is, but I’ve not really known him well,” Louisa said, feeling as though she were digging herself into a large pit from which she might never climb out.

“Yet you married him, and still he didn’t tell you about me.”

“I suppose he wanted to surprise me with the knowledge that I’d have such a lovely sister-in-law.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Caroline said.

But Louisa heard in her voice that she recognized the truth: She was a secret not to be shared until absolutely necessary.

She suddenly wished she’d not ventured out into the garden.

The rain arrived in the afternoon, darkening the sky with black clouds and a heavy downpour, flashing occasional lightning and echoing resounding thunder. It was perfect weather during which to curl up in a plush chair and read and escape thoughts of her morning blunder with Caroline. Louisa had not known how to reassure the girl of her worth. She knew so little about her,
about her place in this family, and Hawkhurst was so hesitant to discuss her, to help Louisa to understand.

It was a worry she would address this evening, when he came to say good night.

For now, Louisa sat in a chair beside the window in her bedchamber, transported to a world of make-believe unlike any she’d ever before read: faeries, unicorns, knights…and a villainous prince who very much resembled her husband in appearance. She thought of all the times she’d told him she considered him unsuitable, and it appeared he held the same opinion of himself.

If indeed what she was reading was a self-portrait.

Was it possible for a writer not to include a small portion of himself in his chosen words? Her drawings always contained a reflection of herself. Even the rose she’d watercolored in the conservatory had been more than a flower, the dew drop representing a tear as she left behind the world she’d always known.

She’d been terrified, her bravado simply a front so no one would realize how much she feared failure, how much she longed for success. Was Hawkhurst any different?

She closed the book and stared out the window at the sheets of rain pouring down, slashing against the pane. What did she truly know of this man whom she’d married?

That he enjoyed wicked nights…and brandy balls. That he would compromise a wealthy
woman in order to ensure marriage to her and access to her funds…

No, he would do anything, including compromising a woman, tarnishing his own reputation as a gentleman, in order to ensure he had the means to protect his family. And when he’d found the wrong woman in his arms, he’d become her champion.

“At what cost to his family?” she whispered to the rain. “At what cost to himself?”

What man could write so convincingly of villains, heroes, sacrifice, and love if he did not possess at least a small measure of each within his own heart?

She set the book on the table beside her, picked up her sketch pad, and began to draw what he had so beautifully described. A world where good always prevailed. A world she’d not expected him to believe in, much less care about creating. A world designed to keep a lonely girl from experiencing loneliness.

She stilled her hand, remembering Caroline’s declaration that Hawkhurst had been lonely. She’d found it difficult to believe, yet his villain’s life reflected a poignant loneliness. Was it based on experience?

His sister obviously adored him. For that bond to develop, he had to have spent time with her, time away from Society, away from friends because she was a secret carefully guarded.

Louisa thought of all she’d done without while Alex had bought baubles for his mistress. She
thought of the rumors that had quickly circulated, rumors intended to ensure that Jenny was not available to Hawkhurst, rumors instigated by her brother.

She’d done Hawkhurst a grave disservice. It wasn’t he who was the bad influence. Rather it was her brother. How was it that she’d failed to see Alex for the selfish, self-centered man he truly was?