Must Love Dukes (26 page)

Married. Married to the man she loved. Her heart ached for him. Only, he had not said he loved her in return, had he? He said that he cared. He said he was mad for her. Neither of which were love. Fondness, lust even, but not love. Did he love her?

“Come with me. Surely there is a more secluded bench or something of that sort if you are going to worry about it.”

“There’s a gazebo in the back corner,” she offered as he led her down the stone steps and into the moonlit wilderness.

***

The sweet, sticky scent of the bay willow trees hung heavy in the air. Devon inhaled, memorizing the moment. He squeezed Lillian’s hand as they wound their way down a path, gravel crunching under their feet. Just ahead was the gazebo, hidden from view by a veil of ivy that had been allowed the freedom to grow wild against the far corner of the garden. Lillian stepped inside first.

“It’s exactly as I remember it as a child.” She smiled at some long-forgotten memory as she turned toward him.

He reached out to stroke her cheek, trying to capture her smile forever. His hand drifted down the side of her neck, holding her steady as his lips found hers. He wanted to taste her, to consume her. Her lips yielded under his as her hands slipped inside his coat to encircle his waist. God, he wanted her. She deserved better than a dirt-floor gazebo, but he’d be damned if he could force himself to turn away from her.

His hands slid possessively down her back to rest low on her hips. Her breathing was unsteady, betraying her nervousness. He watched, fascinated by the quick rise and fall of her breasts as she tried to rein in her breathing. He moved forward, wanting to feel her against him, around him. She took a slight step back to regain her balance, bumping into the large post holding up the structure.

Holding her steady with the post at her back, he used it to press her closer. It wasn’t close enough. Tilting her chin up, she looked into his face. The bright blue of her eyes shone in the dark as she pulled the coat from his shoulders with light touches. The garment fell to the ground.

He leaned into her, gently biting her bottom lip, then running his tongue over it to soothe it. Kissing her deeply, he felt her trembling hands slide to his chest and grasp at the fabric of his shirt. His need for closeness became a growing scream of demand in his ears. Her hands snaked around his shoulders to twine in his hair as he pressed her back against the post, trapping her with the force of his body grinding into hers.

Beyond hard for her, he showed her how much so with a thrust of his hips. She moaned into his mouth and began to pull fistfuls of his shirt up his back to remove another layer between them. He broke the kiss only long enough for her to pull the shirt over his head and throw it to the ground.

He began to pull the gown from her shoulders. When it hung in a loose pile of fabric below her breasts, she shimmied her arms free and ran her hands over his chest. His shoulders. His arms. He tensed in response to her innocent touch.

He ran a finger beneath the edge of her corset. Guiding her breasts free of the contraption, he weighed them in his hands, allowing her hardened nipples to slide between his fingers. Her breathing quickened as she watched him release his hold on one breast, only to dip his head and take one perfectly taut nipple into his mouth, grazing it slightly with his teeth and running his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. She arched into him, grabbing the back of his head, pulling him closer. She wanted more, he realized, chuckling. Good, he wanted more as well, much more. He wanted her. All of her.

He skimmed a hand down her leg to lift the hem of her gown and run slowly up the outside of her bare calf, her knee, her thigh. Her soft skin felt like fine silk under his hands. He tugged at the gown where it covered her other leg until it was compressed to a lump of cloth across her belly.

His lips skimmed the surface of her breast as he moved to her neck. He paused to catch her pulse as it throbbed under his lips. His hand lifted to her bare shoulder and he ran his fingers over the pearls where they wrapped around her throat, while he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. Lily. God, he needed her, more of her. She must have felt the same, for she wrapped her legs around his hips, tugging him a fraction closer to where he wanted so badly to be.

Devon pulled her mouth back to his as his hand sank into her hair, scattering the last of the pins that held it in place across the ground. His other hand rounded her hip, holding her to him. He broke their kiss to glance behind him, searching for a better location to proceed with things. He spied a bench near the entrance. A bench. Lily deserved better than a bench.

Seeing his concern, she offered in a breathless whisper near his right ear, “There are blankets inside the bench. At least there were when I was young.”

“Perfect. Wait here.” He set her down on her feet, holding her waist for a moment until she was steady before turning to retrieve the blankets.

When the ground was covered with soft blankets, he looked back toward her. She had removed her dress from around her hips. Her skin glowed in the silver light of the moon. He could see traces of the soot from his hands smudged across one breast and over a shoulder, marking her as his. And yet she wasn’t his, not completely. He held out his arm to her and watched as she walked toward him to lay her hand in his.

“This is madness, with the ball taking place just across the garden,” she said, lines of worry creasing her brow.

He looked past her for a moment, only seeing fragments of light through the vines that covered the forgotten gazebo. He could hear faint strains of music floating on the air from the open doors of the ballroom but no voices to indicate anyone had come outside. He looked back into Lily’s eyes, brushing the fallen strands of hair from her forehead. He couldn’t wait to have her. He needed her now. It had to be here. He opened his mouth to try and explain, but the words caught in his throat.

She laid a hand on his chest, stepping closer to him.

“The truth is, Lily, I am mad. I am mad enough to burn ships for you.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I am mad enough to follow you to every ball in London. I am mad enough to blackmail you just to insinuate myself into your life.” He looked into her eyes, forcing out the words he could barely admit to himself. “I may have had this name for a long time, but I have only truly been mad for the last year. I am mad for you.” He paused to take a breath. “Because I love you, Lily.”

“That’s why you blackmailed me?”

“Yes, and I would do it all over again if it would bring you right back here where you belong, in my arms.”

She shook her head. “All along I thought you must hate me.”

“Lily, I have loved you from the moment I met you in that tavern a year ago.”

A smile broke over her face like sunrise dawning over a mountain. “I love you, too, Devon.”

He pulled her down with him onto the blanket at their feet, easing her to her back. Resting on an elbow at her side, he drew a line with his finger across her shoulder and down the silhouette of her slim body, enjoying the feel of her shiver beside him as he kissed her lips.

His hand moved of its own will toward the apex of her thighs, making ever closer circles as he caressed her smooth skin. The heel of his hand pressed into her, and he found the small sensitive bud with his finger and stroked it. She arched into his hand on a silent plea for more, with her fingernails pressing crescents into his shoulders.

Her eyes were bright with fire. He plunged his tongue into her mouth at the same time his finger entered her. Her eyes closed as she pressed her hips farther into him and a noise escaped from deep in her throat. He caught the sound with his lips and kissed it away as he plundered her mouth and drove two fingers into her wet heat: teasing, coaxing, and then finally demanding what they both wanted.

She tightened around his fingers, and her fingers pulled at his back as she sought her release. She shivered violently in his arms just before going limp and kissing him with more lazy passion than she had before. He withdrew his fingers, smiling at the pleasure-filled look in her soft eyes. He needed her more now than ever. She giggled as she looked up at Devon, a look of awe lingering on her face.

He ran a hand over her belly, curving it around her hip. He pulled her in to kiss her with all the passion that had built between them. He wanted her beyond reasonable thought, but he must take his time. It would not do to climb on her and have it over in one thrust in the manner his body was screaming for. She had to be ready. She needed to want him as he wanted her.

He was in the middle of regaining his control enough to proceed with her when, to his surprise, he felt her fingers dip into the waist of his breeches. In fumbling with the buttons, the backs of her fingers were grazing his skin, searing him with every brush of her hand.

“Dear God, you’re going to kill me,” he murmured.

She wrenched her hand around and popped a button loose, then another, as she threw a seductive gleam up at him. When all of the buttons were opened, she reached into his pants and wrapped her hand around him, stroking his length. He instantly grabbed her wrist to still her hand and carefully pulled it free and pinned it above her head. He did not want this interlude to end here while he still had his pants on. He needed her. He needed to be inside her.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, worried.

“A little too right, I’m afraid.” He looked into her eyes, seeing his own hunger reflected there.

She arched her beautiful body into his where he hovered above her, letting her nipples glance past his chest on her descent back to the blankets. He needed no further encouragement as he ripped his pants off with an animal-like growl and rolled on top of her, finally feeling her naked skin against his.

Her arm still lay loose above her head where he had briefly pinned it and he ran his hand down its surface, watching her shiver at his touch. Her every squirm under his light touch tugged at his groin. When he reached the very outside edge of her breast, he bent to lavish one kiss on its peak while his hand danced to her side to seize her other hand where it lay beside her. He picked it up, pushing it above her head to join the other. Leaving a trail of smoldering kisses up her neck, he looked her in the eye as he pushed her thighs open with one knee.

His heart beat violently as he sat poised at her entrance. Their foreheads were touching. Their ragged breaths were mingling. And heavy-lidded eyes met in the darkened gazebo. He claimed her mouth and entered her in the same moment with one long, slow thrust.

She made a small noise of discomfort at his size. He stilled, watching her. She blinked for a moment, adjusting to him before she raised her hips to meet his. He pushed fully into her before retreating to thrust into her again, deeper and harder.

She was tight and warm. She was his.

A year he had longed for this. He steadily drove into her without mercy. Her legs came back up to wrap around him, gathering him in with her body as he took her. She met his thrusts, gripping his back, pulling him in. She pulled him down into a world where there were only the two of them and time did not exist.

“Oh, Devon,” she cried into the night.

He covered her mouth with his, tasting the desire on her lips and devouring it.

He thrust into her over and over with relentless need. She was his at last.

She shook as she shattered beneath him, tugging him with her over the edge into oblivion. He pumped into her one last time on a low growl before collapsing on her and rolling to the side, catching her up with him as he went. She lay across his chest, her golden hair spilling out in every direction as she floated back to earth with him. Her arms and legs were tangled with his in a twisted puzzle of body parts that neither wished to move.

Sometime later, he brushed her hair away from her face and kissed the top of her head. “We should return to the ball.”

“I suppose so,” Lily replied, twisting to look him in the eye. “I know how much you enjoy attending balls with London society.”

“Yes, you know me so well.”

“Or we could disappear into the night,” she suggested.

“You are adept at such things,” he smirked.

“Yes. Only this time, when I disappear into the night, I’m taking you with me.” She smiled as she bent her head to kiss his shoulder.

“Always.” He lifted her until she was level with his face as he smiled up at her. “Because I never want to lose you again,
Lily
Whitby
.” He laughed as he caught her up in his arms, tumbling her onto the ground beneath him.

“You never will,” she returned as he kissed her again. “Although I may be forced to steal kisses from you for the rest of our days.”

Devon made his way across the parlor, watching his new bride as she chatted with one of the Green sisters and Roselyn. The other Green sister was standing to the side, deep in conversation with Steelings. Devon’s gaze returned to his bride, beautiful in his home, their home now. The celebration was a small affair in ducal terms. Yet, after their return from Scotland, a wedding breakfast had seemed a bit late.

After all, he had broken his fast for a week in bed with Lily before their return home. But his mother had insisted. And when the dowager duchess of Thornwood insisted on anything, it was done. So here he was, surrounded by friends and family and enduring congratulations until he could have Lily to himself once again.

At the exclamation of “Holden” from across the room, his eyes narrowed on Steelings. He watched as his friend strived to make the eldest Miss Green laugh—or was there more to their conversation than that? Steelings’ gaze seemed to be affixed to the girl while a faraway daze covered his face. Perhaps he had found his Suzanna after all. Devon was jolted from his bemused state by his mother.

“Thornwood, dear, have I mentioned how happy I am to have Lillian in the family?” his mother asked, impeding his progress across the floor.

“Yes, Mother. But I’m glad to hear it again.”

“Your father would be proud of your choice in a bride,” she added.

“I like to think so. Truthfully, I’m still relieved I was able to marry her. I didn’t think it possible.” Devon shook his head to banish the unpleasant memories.

“Anything is possible where love is concerned, dear. Speaking of love in the air…are you prepared to escort your sister to every ball in town next season?”

“You aren’t still on about that, are you? Is it not enough that I married?” He spotted Lily and Roselyn walking his way and raised his voice so they could hear him. “Now I must attend all of the balls next season as well? All for the likes of Roselyn?” he added with a grin as his sister joined their conversation.

Roselyn jabbed him in the arm. “Yes, you certainly must.”

He looked into Lily’s eyes as she stepped up beside him. “As long as I get to dance with my duchess, I believe I might survive it.”

“Of course,” Lily replied as she wound her hand around his arm.

His mother led Roselyn off to chat with Nathaniel as Bixley sidled up to Devon, his glass of brandy resting on his large girth. Devon still didn’t like the man, although if not for Bixley’s greed and greater desire to have a high title in the family than Solomon’s vengeance for the ships, Devon would not be wed to Lily. For that he was grateful.

“Thornwood, excellent to see you made it back into town with my sister. And even better that you returned wed. Since your disappearance from the ball, tongues have been wagging all over town.”

“Bixley, tongues have been wagging over my every action for years now.” Devon leaned in to offer in a conciliatory tone, “It’s this damned madness, inconvenient as hell.”

“Yes, I suppose you have been discussed at some length,” Bixley replied, looking uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

Lily laughed. “I believe our family could use a little madness. Let society talk. They only dislike what they don’t understand.”

“That’s quite wise, my love.” Devon never ceased to be amazed by Lily. Her independence of thought wrapped in grace continued to make him smile—as did her slim body when in his arms. He covered her fingers where they were tucked close to him.

“Thank you. I’m happy to be the Mad Duchess on your arm any day,” she said, her face wreathed in smiles. She turned to her brother with a sincere look in her eyes. “Josiah, I owe you my thanks as well. His Grace told me of how you allowed our union to occur.”

“Yes, well. He made quite the argument.” Bixley gave her a small nod and took a sip of his drink.

“That reminds me, Bixley. That estate manager I mentioned will be calling on you tomorrow as I promised. You should see Bixley Manor become a profitable estate within the year.”

“Many thanks, Thornwood. I see you have other guests wishing to speak with you, so I will go.” Bixley nodded in farewell to his sister with a murmured, “Lillian.” He shook Devon’s hand and left them, moving in the direction of the decanter of liquor on the table by the window.

Devon looked back in time to see Elandor entering the parlor. He watched as the marquess’s eyes swept the room, coming to a rest on Nathaniel. There was only the hint of a nod and smile evident to anyone watching. No wonder they had managed to keep their relations private for so long under the eyes of London gossips. If Devon didn’t already know of their involvement, he would never have guessed at it.

“Elandor,” he called out. “I’m glad you could make it here on such short notice.”

Devon turned to Lily for a round of introductions. “Your Grace, this is the Marquess of Elandor. Elandor, this is my duchess.” He grinned, adding, “Thanks to you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, m’lord.” Lily dipped into a quick curtsy.

“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace.” He bowed. “I wouldn’t think of missing this happy occasion.” He handed Devon a folded piece of parchment. “It’s a wedding gift.”

Lily eyed the letter with a frown creasing her face. “His Grace spoke of your help with breaking the betrothal agreement. After all of your assistance, a gift isn’t necessary.”

Elandor leaned closer and dropped his voice, a twinkle in his eye. “Consider it a gift from Nathaniel, then.”

“Why would your gift be from Nathaniel?” Lily asked. There was only a second of silence before she continued. “Oh! You’re friends with Nathaniel! You are… It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Elandor pointed to the parchment now in Devon’s hand. “It’s a shipping contract for the Crown.”

Devon was stunned. “I don’t know what to say…Thank you, I suppose. Although that doesn’t seem quite sufficient.”

“You won’t need to chase down business overseas any longer. Of course, that puts you home more…if that’s an issue…” Elandor broke off with a grin at Lily.

“No. I’ve decided to accept the responsibilities of my title. With some encouragement.” He paused to give Lily’s hand a squeeze. “I would like to become more active in Parliament and join His Majesty’s Treasury. I’ll miss exploring the world, but this is my life now.”

“Thornwood, Parliament doesn’t meet year ’round. You can maintain your life outside your title, as I do.” Elandor tilted his head toward Nathaniel where he was chatting with Devon’s mother.

“Ah, I suppose I never saw a way to have both.” He glanced at Lily, almost chuckling at the bright look of anticipation in her eyes. He turned back to the man before him. “Thank you for such a generous gift, Elandor. It will allow my family to live without concern for funds, and I’ll be able to explore without the worry of conducting business for trade while traveling.” He shook his head in awe at the turn of his fate. “I’ll be free.”

“Only if I am free at your side,” Lily stated.

“Always, my love, always,” Devon returned.

“Will you excuse me?” Elandor asked, backing away from them. “I need to give my greetings to your brother, then I must be leaving.”

“Thank you for coming, Lord Elandor,” Lily offered before he walked away. “It was nice to meet you. I do hope you will visit our home often, especially at family gatherings.”

“I would consider it an honor, Your Grace.” He bowed and moved away.

Now was his chance. Devon had been waiting for everyone to complete their congratulations so that he and Lily could slip away for a minute. “Lily, come with me. There’s something I would like to show you in the gallery.” He tugged her out of the parlor, leaving the chatter of their guests behind.

Lily giggled as she followed him down the hall. “I’ve seen the gallery, but I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to be alone with you for a minute.”

He led her up the stairs. For once he was not haunted by the memory of her in his arms on the staircase. He sighed. Lily was where she should be—at his side. As they walked through the door into the gallery, he stepped around behind her, slipping his hands up to cover her eyes. She laughed and leaned back into him. Guiding her forward, he stepped carefully through his exhibits of foreign artifacts.

“Devon, where are you taking me?”

“Here.” He dropped his hands from her eyes and allowed his fingers to rest on her arms, holding her close. Her gaze fell upon the surface of her mother’s writing desk.

“Mama’s desk! Devon. How did you find this? How did you know?” She ran a hand over the wooden surface before turning in his arms to look at him in amazement.

“I learned of it the day you left me a year ago when I went back to Habersham’s shop in my search for you. Although it was only recently that I purchased it.”

“You searched for me?”

“Of course, Lily. As I told you, I have loved you from the moment I met you.” He stroked a hand through her hair as he looked into her clear blue eyes. “When you stole my pocket watch that night, you stole my heart. And it’s been in your possession ever since.”

“And I will not be returning it.” She smiled. “I love you, Devon.”

“I love you too, Lily.” He kissed her, capturing her soft lips beneath his. Pulling back, he grinned. “And I will spend the rest of my days making you pay for your life of crime, my little thief.”

She stepped away from his reach with a smile. “Only if you catch me.”

He reached for her and she was gone in a rustle of skirts and laughter. He gave her a second’s head start, chuckling as she looked back over her shoulder halfway to the door. He’d been chasing her ever since she tracked him into that tavern, and he would follow her all of his days. Striding across the room, he closed the gap between them. Once he caught her, he would never let her slip away again.