How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days (14 page)

“You’re lying, trying to placate me so I’ll marry you. All you want are my father’s mines,” she said calmly.

“In the beginning, I convinced myself that was all that mattered. But somewhere along the way, I realized it was you I wanted, Pippa. The mines can crumble and burn for all it matters to me.”

*   *   *

She shouldn’t believe him. Indeed, she had every reason not to. But there was an urgency in his voice that compelled her to listen. 

Twisting his arms around her waist, he buried his head in the crook of her neck and inhaled. Lifting his head, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers, he said, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it’s…terrifying.”

She blinked, stunned by his admission. “The self-assured Duke of Arlington frightened by a mere woman, and a tradesman’s daughter, at that?”

“You are more than that. Far more.” 

Then he kissed her—his lips colliding, hard, with hers. Everything she felt—the anguish, the betrayal, melted at the feel of his lips. She moaned into his mouth, drinking in the heady taste of him.

Still pinning her against the wall with his powerful body, he raised his large palm and molded it to her breast, squeezing as he kissed her savagely. With his free hand, he unbuttoned his falls and drew up the hem of her skirt.

The tip of his shaft pressed against her hot center. “Marry me now, Pippa. Right here in this room.”

Her mind groped for his meaning, but the feel of him touching her, caressing her overheated flesh, made it difficult to concentrate. “I can’t…”

He pushed into her, forcing her up onto the tips of her toes. The sharp pleasure/pain of it made her gasp.

“Fuck, Pippa,” he groaned. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Hot, riotous sensations overwhelmed her, threatened to consume her whole. With each steady thrust, he brought her closer and closer to sweet, blissful oblivion.

Hands cupping her arse, he thrust into her like a man possessed, her back pressed against the wall, one ankle hooked around his hip. Muscles bunched and strained beneath her palms as he drove into her, impossibly hard, unbearably deep.

Nothing in the world existed but them—their two beating hearts, their hot, frantic breathing. His lips found the column of her throat, and he dragged them up roughly, the sensation sending tingles sweeping down her spine.

“I’m going to come inside you again and again,” he growled in her ear, his breath warm against her cheek. “You’re mine, Pippa. Mine.”

His erotic words did something to her. The building tension had gathered into a wild, raging tempest, and she could no longer contain it. All at once, she shattered. Wave after wave of potent, undulating heat washed over her, sweeping through her entire body.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Christ.”

As her channel continued to clench and release, he thrust once, twice, then threw his head back and pumped into her one final time. Seating himself deep, he poured his seed into her body.

Several long moments passed before her breathing evened out. They were still connected, his head resting on her shoulder as he continued to draw in rough, ragged breaths.

At length, he pulled out of her and set her down on her feet gently, righting his breeches.

He kissed her soundly, then pulled away and smoothed his finger down the line of her jaw. “Say you’ll marry me today,” he repeated. “I have a special license. I’ve had it since the day I walked into your father’s study.”

She shook her head. “Lucas…”

He stiffened. “What?”

“You need to give me time to sort this all out. My emotions are all tangled up. I’m not sure what to think.”

His gaze flicked down to her flat belly. “You could be carrying my child, Pippa,” he said softly, looking back up into her eyes. Her heart fluttered. “Have you considered that?”

She swallowed. “Of course I’ve considered it. I’d be daft not to have. But I won’t be forced into accepting you based on the
possibility
of a child.”

“Then perhaps I should work harder at making it a reality.”

She held his hard gaze. “You want to entrap me.” 

“It’s not about entrapping you, Pippa. I’ve taken you. You’re ruined. We
must
marry, whether you wish it or not.” 

She lifted her chin. “If there is no child, then I have other options.” 

Something lethal flashed in his eyes. “You must mean Hurst. You would refuse me but consent to marry him.” 

Charles was a good friend, and despite his reluctance to play the part of her betrothed, he
would
marry her to save her from ruin, if it ever came to that. They loved each other as friends, which was more than many married couples could boast.

Lucas clenched and unclenched his hands several times before he finally said, “I could ensure your only option is to wed
me
.”

“You would force me, then, after all.” 

“No,
Christ
.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I just want you by my side, Pippa, however I can get you. I don’t know how to do this.” He gestured between them. “If I want something, I take it. I always find a way. But this, with you…us…” His words faded. “I feel so damned lost.”

Her heart clenched at his words, but she fought hard to ignore it.  His feelings now didn’t change anything, or did they? She wasn’t sure anymore. Her thoughts were so muddled.

“I must get some sleep,” she said carefully, inching away from him. The sun had only just begun to set, but she still felt exhausted.

He nodded, then took her hand and leaned over it, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “I need an answer, Pippa. Before the ball, before I stand up in front of all those people.”   

She nodded. “I know.”

She just didn’t know what that answer would be.

Lucas glanced at the clock for the twelfth time that night. The ball had begun an hour ago, and Pippa was nowhere in sight.

He smiled and greeted guests, only vaguely aware of the faces that drifted in and out of his line of vision. His gaze was searching for
one
face, one pair of shimmering green eyes.

He feared what her absence meant. He’d expected to hear from her earlier in the day, but nothing. He hadn’t considered what he’d do if she truly refused him. Last evening, she’d looked so shattered by his betrayal and it had felt like a fist to the gut. He would have given his fortune to take it all away.

“I feel it only fair to warn you,” came a familiar voice from behind. “The guests are beginning to speculate about Miss Welby’s absence.”

Lucas glanced at Matthias, his cousin and best friend, and grunted. “They’re right to speculate. I’m afraid I may have bungled things.”

Matthias slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Oh, come now, I’m sure it isn’t as bad as all that.”

“I conspired to seduce her and force her into marriage for the sole purpose of lining my own pockets.”

Mathias gave him a sympathetic pat before withdrawing his hand. “Well, in that case, perhaps it
is
that bad. You’re a damned idiot.”

“I’ve come to the same conclusion,” he replied flatly. “And now I fear I may have lost her.”

He should have known it was too good to be true. Women like Pippa—filled with life and vivacity—didn’t love men like him. He was cold to the bone, and she’d glimpsed the true depths of his ruthlessness. Could he blame her for jilting him?

A footman approached. “She has arrived, Your Grace.” 

Turning, he searched the crowd until his eyes alighted on her. She stood beneath the arched entryway with Mr. Charles Hurst by her side. At the sight of her, something in his chest tightened.

She looked…
resplendent
. Her hair gleamed in the candlelight, setting off the red streaks in her satin curls. Her white dress clung to her slim figure, accentuating the curve of her hips and the generous swell of her breasts. She was radiant, a burst of sunlight in an otherwise dreary world. 

As he made his way straight toward her, he saw her gaze flick over him briefly before she turned to whisper something in Hurst’s ear. Hurst followed her gaze until his eyes met Lucas’s, his mouth set into a grim line. Hurst then took Pippa’s hand and threaded it through his arm, placing his hand on top of hers protectively. The gesture was unmistakably intimate.

Something inside Lucas snapped. They’d come to inform him she was marrying Hurst. 

Fury pulsed through him and he reached out and grabbed Hurst by the cravat, shoving him violently against the wall.

“Are you mad?” Hurst spat, shoving Lucas hard in the chest. He stumbled back a few paces, before charging Hurst again, this time knocking him into a tall Grecian pillar.

A collective gasp trickled through the room, but Lucas was too intent on Hurst to care. All he could see in his mind’s eye was Pippa clutching Hurst’s forearm, her pink lips brushing against his ear. No chance in hell she was marrying Hurst. Lucas saw red, his blood boiling. 

“Lucas,” came a lilting voice from somewhere behind him. “What are you
doing
?”

“You’re not marrying Hurst.” He’d said as much last night and he sounded like a goddamned parrot, but he couldn’t hold the words back.

“Of course I’m not.”

It took a moment for the words to penetrate. She wasn’t marrying Hurst.  Lucas’s grip on Hurst slackened as he glanced over his shoulder at Pippa. “What did you say?”

“I said of course I’m not marrying Charles.”

Lucas slowly eased away from Hurst, allowing him to gain his feet. Hurst glared at Lucas as he brushed out the wrinkles on his jacket and straightened his cravat. “She was right. You
are
an insufferable brute. And to think I convinced her to grant you a second chance.”

A second chance.

He turned to Pippa, his gaze searching her face for something,
anything
that would confirm Hurst’s words. “Is it true? Have you forgiven me?”

God, please say yes.

“Well,” she said. “I’ve considered it at great length and though you
are
a ruthless scoundrel, Charles convinced me that no man is infallible.” She smiled. “I suppose that means I forgive you.”

“And your father?”

Pippa pushed out a breath, and glanced at her father, who stood by the doorway. Hands clasped behind his back, eyes cast downward, the old man looked humbled. 

“We’ve discussed his reasoning, and I’m still not sure I agree. But I know he loves me, and in time I’m sure I will forgive him as well.”

“Good.” Brushing a silky red tendril off her cheek, Lucas gazed into her eyes. “Say you’ll marry me, Pippa.”

She held his gaze. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Her full, luscious mouth beckoned him, and there in front of everyone, he leaned forward and sealed his lips to hers. She was his. Happiness filled him to bursting as he deepened the kiss and twined his tongue with hers just briefly before pulling away.

“I vow to make you the happiest of women.”

“I never doubted you would.”

He lifted a brow at that.

“All right, but I didn’t doubt it for
long
.”

He smiled. “You will never have cause to doubt it again.”

Bath, one week later.

Pippa lay against Lucas’s chest, the crisp white sheets entwined with their naked bodies. They’d spent the morning making love, drenched in each other’s kisses. 

Lucas was propped against the pillows, reading the morning newssheet as Pippa brushed her fingers across his chest and inhaled his musky male scent. She loved the smell of him in the morning before he washed it away with expensive soaps and colognes. 

Mornings like this were heavenly—in bed with the man she loved, a warm breeze sweeping in through the open window.  It was quiet, tranquil, and in moments like these, it felt as though they were the only two people in the world.

Rising up onto her elbows, she tugged on the corner of the newssheet. “Any exciting news?” 

He tossed the newssheet onto the floor and rolled onto his side, pulling her against him. He nibbled the underside of her chin. “Nothing quite as exciting as you, my love,” he murmured against her skin. “I find you quite…diverting.”

Pippa laughed, hooking her leg over his hip, inching them closer together until the hot ridge of his erection pressed against her center. She was already wet, her body eager to accept him. Still, there was tenderness and she feared injuring herself further. 

“I’m not sure I can do this again. I’m already quite sore from yesterday
and
this morning.”

But even as she spoke, that familiar energy began to hum within her. Blood rushed to her center as urgent need coursed through her veins. Perhaps just
once
more. Then she would insist they rest for the next few days—though truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure she would make it that long.

A knock sounded on the door.

Lucas cursed under his breath. Withdrawing from the bed, he shrugged on his robe and strode into the small parlor that adjoined the bedchamber, and opened the door. Quiet words were exchanged before the door clicked shut again.

Pippa wrapped the white sheet around her chest and sat up. “Who was it?”

As Lucas walked back into the room, he was already flicking open the seal of a letter. He sat on the edge of the bed and she wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her head against his back, soaking in his warmth. “It’s from Matthias. Curious, I didn’t even know the man could write,” he joked.

But as Lucas read the letter, he grew quiet and the muscles beneath her palms tightened. “Lucas, what is it?”

He broke away from her abruptly and was already at the door in the adjoining parlor, calling for his valet. When he stormed back into the room, his movements were clipped and angry. He pulled a trunk out from beneath the bed and began tossing items into it at random.

“Lucas, for heaven’s sake, what has you in such a passion?”

He took the letter from his robe pocket and tossed it to her, then continued with his frenzied packing. Surely they weren’t in
such
a hurry that the maids couldn’t pack for them.