My Dark Duke (25 page)

He did not have the chance.

For she had already sunk gracefully to her knees and, with only the barest of hesitation, took him into her mouth. He was satin and steel, his heat raising her own temperature as she felt a vein pulse on the underside of his member. And his taste. Oh God, his taste. Briny, like the sea, with just a hint of bitterness, and something that was just James. She had often wondered how it was that he could enjoy making love to her with his mouth and now she knew. He tasted wonderful, but it was the yearning to bring him to heights of ecstasy that made the experience unutterably pleasing. She wasn't certain what to do next, and so she tentatively moved her mouth around him, careful to keep her teeth away lest she hurt him.

‘Alethea, what are you – 
ah
 . . .' Air hissed out from between clenched teeth, and she imagined him staring down at her, eyes wild with desire. The image magnified the arousal she was feeling tenfold and she felt her core throb with the need to be filled. She turned her attention back to him, ignoring the demands of her body. For once, she wanted to be the one who was doing the pleasing, and the sound of his harsh breathing reassured her that he was experiencing much pleasure, despite her inexperience.

She swirled her tongue around the wide crown, wanting to feel the texture of the hard column of flesh in her grasp. When she grazed the underside of his shaft, she felt him jerk slightly, so she did it again. He was so delicious, as delicious in his way as the lemon ices she loved were in theirs. The thought made her smile, and gave her another idea. She gripped the lower part of his erection with her fist and then proceeded to suck him delicately.

James moaned her name, the undertone of desperation in his voice making her take him deeper and draw harder, her hand pumping the part of his length that was not in her mouth. She felt him harden and swell in her mouth just as she heard his voice.

‘Alethea, you must move away. Now!' His voice came out as a growl and his hand came down on her shoulder to push her away but she resisted. ‘Alethea, don't —'

Suddenly, his entire body tensed, then shuddered hard as his seed jetted hotly into her mouth. Even though she knew what to expect, the force of it surprised her and she choked, releasing him in a reflexive action. She heard him curse as he tried to stem the flow with his hands so that he wouldn't soil her gown, and he succeeded, but at the cost of spilling on his breeches.

She slowly rose, watching him as he panted, trying to regain his composure while she glorified at the sight of the pleasure which still clouded his eyes and the perspiration dotting his brow. She loved seeing him like this, forgetting the cares and responsibilities that were his constant companions, abandoning himself to pure carnal bliss for this one moment.

His eyes slowly came back to focus and he lifted his hand and touched her cheek. James uttered her name, and it contained such a surfeit of adoration that she felt tears sting her eyes. ‘There was no need for you to do that.'

‘I know.'

‘But thank you.' His voice was strong and deep, and she felt her heart leap at the tenderness in his eyes.

‘Did I . . . Was it . . .' Her question trailed off.

James took her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘You were utter perfection.'

Alethea smiled, joy spreading through her like warm sun-rays. ‘I pleased you.'

An answering smile tugged at his mouth. ‘You pleased me,' he echoed. ‘Although I believe it was I who was supposed to be doing the pleasing.'

She shook her head, then looked into his eyes so he could understand. ‘I wanted to. It gives me immeasurable pleasure to please you.' It was true. She would happily forgo the ecstasy he brought her just to see the look that was in his eyes now. To hear the adoration in his voice.

He nodded. ‘Now you understand how I feel.' He bent down and kissed her softly, almost as if he could not help himself. ‘Shall we retire so that I can return the favour?'

Alethea bit her lip. It was so tempting. But duty called and try as she wished to, she could not ignore their guest. ‘Cole is waiting for us. We should go.'

James grimaced, looking down at himself. ‘You had to mention Cole before I have even had the chance to put myself away, so to speak?'

She burst out laughing even as a blush warmed her cheeks. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, feeling nothing of the sort. ‘You do realise we are far beyond fashionably late?'

The duke shrugged. ‘It's Cole. He'll understand.' He fastened his breeches. ‘Besides, did you not tell me that his advice after examining you earlier was to have marital relations as often as possible?' He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then walked towards the door to his bedchamber.

Alethea could feel her cheeks burn. ‘I don't think
that
was exactly what he had in mind. In any case, you are not to tell him the real reason why we are late.'

‘If you don't wish him to find out, then I suggest I remain in my quarters.' At his wife's quizzical look, he gave a rare grin, teeth flashing whitely. ‘Trust me when I say I will be exhibiting nothing less than a Cheshire cat smile, all because of my incredibly pleasing wife. Cole will realise what we have been engaged in within moments. So you might as well not bother with an untruth.' He disappeared through the door, but not before calling out, ‘I'll see you downstairs.'

‘Oh, you . . .' Alethea gritted her teeth. Damn the man. He was so infuriating. And so handsome and charming she could scream. She sighed, turning to examine her appearance in the bevelled mirror. Aside from the colour in her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes, she looked presentable enough.

She squared her shoulders and exited the bedchamber. She was just going to have to pretend nothing had happened. A slow smile lit up her face. If her husband dared cause her any embarrassment this evening, she would be forced to punish him. She was sure he wouldn't want her to withhold her ‘services' now that he had experienced their full extent. The smile widened into a grin of such mischief the footmen standing at the bottom of the stairs blinked.

At last, there was something she could hold over her immensely powerful Dark Duke. Oh, what fun she was sure to have.

There is a Declaration From the Heart

‘Damnation!'

Alethea looked up from her breakfast plate at her husband's loud exclamation. His brows were drawn together in a fierce frown as he quickly skimmed the letter that had been handed to him moments ago. ‘What is it, James?'

It was another moment before he looked up from the missive, eyes stormy. ‘One of my ships that was sailing here from India has capsized. The crew is presumed dead.'

She gasped in horror. ‘Oh no!'

He pushed back from his seat and stood up, fists clenched. ‘Damn it! I specifically informed each and every captain that they were not to overload the ships. That had better not be the cause of this disaster.'

Breakfast forgotten, Alethea hurried to his side. ‘I am so sorry. All those men . . . their families.' She put a hand on his forearm. ‘What can I do?'

At her question, James seemed to surface briefly from his thoughts. ‘I'm afraid there is nothing you can do. At least not now.' He covered her hand with his and kissed her forehead. ‘I have to ride to London immediately.'

She nodded. ‘Of course. Should I come with you?'

The duke was already shaking his head. ‘No, there's no need. I shall be tied up at the shipyard and with the authorities for an extended period of time. You will barely see me. Stay here and enjoy the peace and quiet.'

‘I'm not sure if I can after such horrible news.'

‘It will all be sorted out. Provisions will be made for the families of the sailors, so they at least will not have to be concerned about that, small consolation though it might be.' James looked grim. ‘It will not be a pleasant scene at the shipyard.'

A pang struck at her heart at the pained regret in his eyes. She knew at once that he would shoulder the blame, even though he had not been responsible for the accident. ‘Let me come with you.' At the very least she could be at his side, be some source of comfort for him.

‘Please stay. I can guarantee that my temper will most certainly be foul and I will not subject you to it. Now, I must make preparations to go.'

‘I will tell Rocheford and order the carriage,' offered Alethea, wanting to help in any small way.

He was already striding to the door. His thoughts were clearly elsewhere and it occurred to Alethea that enjoying such wealth came at a very steep price.

An hour later, the couple was standing outside the main doors to the house, Thackery holding the reins to a powerfully built black stallion.

‘I'll write as soon as I am able.' James brushed his thumb over Alethea's cheek and she tried to smile. She wondered if she would be able to sleep without him, now she was so used to having his larger frame curved protectively around her. ‘Will you miss me?' he continued, a smile playing about his mouth.

‘Hmm . . .' She pretended to think. ‘I don't know; I will be terribly busy, you see, what with all the balls and musicales I will be holding. Why, there'll be barely any time left to think about you.'

He laughed, bending down and kissing her nose. Heavens, he was a delicious man, especially when he was smiling just so. And he was all hers.

‘Well, that certainly puts me in my place.' His smile faded, and Alethea watched as the shadows crept back into his eyes. ‘
I
will miss you, even if you don't miss me.'

She cupped his cheek. ‘I dread each day that will pass without you, but with every one, I know that you are closer to coming home,' she whispered.

Something moved deeply in his eyes, and the duke opened his mouth as if to say something, but hesitated. ‘I must go.'

Alethea nodded, heart aching as he took a step away. At the last moment, she called out to him. ‘James, wait!'

Turning back, his brows drew together into a frown when he saw her face. ‘What is it?'

She swallowed, nerves making her stomach churn. This wasn't quite how she had envisioned this moment.
Alethea, do not be a coward.
‘I . . . I just wanted to tell you that . . . I love you.'

He froze and she stopped breathing.

James looked at her for a long time, saying nothing, and Alethea felt pain gouge deeply at her chest. She had not expected a declaration in return, but she'd expected some acknowledgement, some reaction from him. Had he not just told her that he would miss her? But she was a Sinclair and she would not embarrass herself by exposing her pain. So she forced herself to smile as if she had not just bared her vulnerable heart to him. ‘Safe travels, Your G—'

He did not allow her to finish. In one long stride he was next to her, one hand cupping her neck and the other pulling her hard against him. His mouth claimed her in a hard, ferocious kiss, devouring hers so hungrily it was as if he could never have enough of her, and, in his kiss, she could sense an edge of desperation she had never felt before.

By the time he broke off, her lips felt tender and bruised, while her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She looked into his eyes, pitch-black from a turbulence of emotions, and although he still said nothing she felt her anxiety ease. His feelings for her ran deep and strong. And knowing that, remembering his previous marriage, she could wait.

‘I must go,' he repeated, voice hoarse.

‘Yes,' she replied softly.

James remained still for another moment, staring at her before brushing her lower lip tenderly with his thumb. She watched as he finally stepped away and mounted his stallion in one fluid motion. Raising his hand, he gave her one last look and then he was gone, his horse cantering down the drive. The carriage transporting his bags followed at a more leisurely pace behind, and she stood still, watching, until the only thing she could see was a cloud of dust left behind by the carriage wheels.

Our Heroine Encounters a Misadventure

One month later . . .

Alethea stared pensively at the flames in the fireplace, feeling the warmth slowly seeping back into her. She had been caught in the rain on the way home from her ride and that, in addition to the chill in the air, had affected her more than she had expected. Even now, after a hot bath, she was still feeling cold. She really hoped she wasn't going to be ill. The thought of the empty bed that awaited her that night sent her spirits even lower, and she wondered for the umpteenth time when James would return.

A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. ‘Enter.'

‘Your Grace, a letter has arrived for you.' The liveried footman handed Alethea the missive, then bowed and left the library.

When she saw the distinctive bold penmanship, a smile lit her face. It was from James. She hurried over to the chaise and sat, breaking the seal with impatient hands.

My duchess,

The endearment warmed her heart, making her smile widen. He had begun addressing her as his duchess a fortnight ago after she told him in her letter that she had referred to him as her duke in her letters to Letty and Ruth. She had said that she hoped he didn't mind if she referred to him as such. Even now, she could still remember the joy she had felt when she had read his reply. He did not mind, he wrote, as long as he could refer to her as his duchess.

She marvelled at how much he had changed in the nine months since their marriage. Gone was the austere, unsmiling duke she had first met in the Rossiters' library. In his place was a warm, indulgent husband who granted her every wish and gave her whatsoever she wanted, be it a crate-load of new books or his body for her personal pleasure. She knew that he loved her; she could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her. She did not need to hear the words. She could feel it when they made love, when he worshipped her wordlessly with his mouth and hands and body. Never had she dreamt that there could be this much joy in a marriage, and she thanked God each day for sending James to her, this perfect half of her very soul.

She read on.

Alethea pressed the letter to her chest, filled to the brim with excitement and anticipation. James would be home in two days! The thought was followed by two sneezes which made her eyes water. ‘Damn and blast,' she muttered under her breath as she headed to search for Mrs Tilford. ‘Of all the rotten luck.'

So it was that the duke, who had been just as eager to see his wife, arrived home to find Alethea ill in bed. Fearing the worst, he had rushed in to see her condition for himself. James heaved a great sigh of relief to find his wife in the same condition as he had left her; with the exception of a red, slightly swollen nose, hoarse voice and the minor fact that her good humour appeared to be missing.

‘Oh my love,' said James, bending and kissing her forehead. He smiled. ‘Where is the grand welcome I was expecting?'

Alethea stuck her bottom lip out, making him laugh. ‘It is all Mrs Tilford's fault. She has been horrible to me. She won't listen to a word I say, and just keeps telling me I should rest and not worry. Martha ignores me too and I think Hawthorne is too afraid to see me after I threatened to dismiss all the servants in a fit of self-pity. I swear they are going to make me a candidate for Bedlam! Don't laugh at me, if you please. All I wanted to do was arrange a feast to welcome my husband home.'

‘Darling, I don't need a feast. Seeing you is all I need.' He took her hand in his and kissed it.

‘That is very kind of you to say so, but I must look an absolute fright.'

‘You always look beautiful to me.'

She gave him a mournful look and sighed loudly.

‘What is it?' asked James, giving her a questioning look.

‘I must be more ill than I thought. All these weeks I have been yearning for you to return so that you can take me to bed and ravish me, and now I can't even contemplate the thought of kissing you.'

James chuckled. ‘I promise we will have plenty of time for your ravishment when you are better. And as I am home now, I will care for you myself.' He tried his best to put on a serious expression. ‘I would rather you didn't end up in Bedlam. I have enough to do as it is, without having to visit my wife there.'

She shot him a baleful look. ‘To think I was actually desperate for your return.'

He grinned and stood up. ‘Just let me change and then I am yours to command as you please. I should probably also reassure the servants that they won't be dismissed before Alphonse stages a mutiny with the kitchen staff and we are forced to exist on a diet of ale and mouldy cheese.'

He was true to his word. Alethea was thoroughly delighted by her husband's attentions the following days. She told him so the first morning she finally ventured downstairs for breakfast.

‘It was absolutely worth it, you know.' She took an unladylike bite of her marmalade toast. Her appetite had returned with a vengeance and she was trying to decide if she should have another serve of scrambled eggs and another slice of Cook's honey-cured ham. Yes, she thought. And perhaps another pork sausage. Or three.

‘Hmm . . .?' he replied absentmindedly as he perused a letter from the pile of correspondence before him.

‘Becoming ill. It was almost worth it to have you hovering over me like the ghost of some dearly departed soul, murdered before his time.'

At that comment, the duke looked up, eyebrow arched. ‘I could have sworn I asked Hookhams to send poetry and some foreign language material. What have you been reading?'

Alethea flashed him a grin. ‘You forget that I have frequented Hookhams' Library and Bookstore since I was four. He included a few novels that he knew I would enjoy.'

‘I think I should forbid you from writing to Aunt Faith. It seems she is encouraging you in this rather questionable pastime.'

The duchess rolled her eyes. ‘Heavens, you make it sound as if I were smuggling brandy or running a brothel. I read a great many literary works, but sometimes it's nice to read something a little less literary and more, well, exciting.' She motioned for the footman to serve her. ‘And, by the way, did you actually utter the word “forbid” in relation to me?'

James shook his head, looking amused. ‘Whatever could I have been thinking?'

Alethea rose to her feet and went over to her husband. She waited for him to push his chair backwards, then smiled at him as he drew her onto his lap. It was a tight fit, and the panniers under her pretty, white ruffled cotton gown prevented her from being too close to him.

She looked up into his eyes. ‘I have adored having you dote on me these past few days, carrying me around like an invalid and anticipating my every wish. That was all extremely lovely, but all I truly want is your company. I missed you so while you were away.'

James's face softened. ‘I know, darling, and I am sorry that we had to be apart. I missed you terribly, too.' He leaned up and gave her a soft kiss which was altogether too brief. He looked thoughtfully at her. ‘I am required in London again in a week's time. Perhaps you could come with me then, if you are feeling well enough to travel.'

She beamed at him. ‘Oh, James, that sounds wonderful! It's been an age since I was there. I am absolutely, positively certain I will be well enough to travel by then. I already feel like my old self. In any case, Dr Mortimer will be here later today to check on me.' Dr Mortimer was from a village about six miles away. In his mid-fifties, he was a quiet, unassuming character, who, although he did not possess Cole's brilliance, had many years of experience under his belt.

Her husband frowned. ‘I would have preferred Cole to be here.'

‘I know, my love, but he does have a very busy practice. You can't expect him to stay here monitoring my every breath.' She laughed at his arrogantly raised eyebrow. ‘All right, I'm sure you can, but I won't have it. Dr Mortimer is perfectly capable.' She kissed his cheek, then went back to her own seat to resume her breakfast.

‘I hope so.' James finished his coffee and looked at her. ‘I have to reply to some of these letters. Will you be all right on your own for an hour or so?'

She nodded, swallowing her bite of egg. ‘Take your time, darling. I think I will take one of my Gothic novels to enjoy in the rose garden. I must say though that I do hope one of these days someone would write about a brave heroine. It is immensely irritating reading about women who constantly faint at the slightest provocation. Why they are even referred to as heroines is puzzling to me. If it were me, I should not faint, not even once. In fact, I believe I would be the one brandishing the sword. That would be tremendously more exciting than awakening every five minutes to find that I have, yet again, lost consciousness, when I could have seen the ghost and solved the riddle.'

The duke chuckled. ‘If you prove any more adorable than you are at this very moment, I shan't be held responsible for my actions.' He stood up, placing his napkin on the table and gathering the pile of papers.

‘Oh?' Alethea arched an eyebrow at him. ‘And what would those actions be, pray tell?' Her voice was teasing, but she gave him a look filled with all the heated promise she could muster. It must have succeeded because her normally poised husband suddenly fumbled and dropped his correspondence. She had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh at the glare he shot at the footman who had taken a step forward to assist him.

James picked up his papers and walked over to her, his face now set in its normally impassive lines. He bent down and set his mouth next to her ear. ‘My dear, do not make promises with your eyes that your body cannot keep.' His teeth grazed her earlobe and her breath caught as a shiver moved through her. ‘It has been entirely too long since I last bedded you. Even I have my limits.' He straightened. ‘Have someone fetch me when Dr Mortimer arrives. I will be in the study.'

The duchess watched as her husband walked towards the door to the breakfast room, her eyes admiring the way his perfectly fitted, Egyptian-blue, fine wool coat emphasised his strong shoulders. A sudden image of her hands curled tightly over those same shoulders, slippery with perspiration as she writhed beneath him in the throes of passion flashed before her. She closed her eyes, her skin suddenly feeling tight and hot. James was right. It had been entirely too long. Unbearably so.

Opening her eyes, she set her jaw determinedly and picked up her teacup. Dr Mortimer was going to declare her to be in excellent health, even if she had to threaten him with her small-sword.

Alethea was sitting on the side of her bed and taking the pins out of her hair when James walked into the bedchamber.

‘I spoke to Dr Mortimer,' he said, coming around to the side of the bed where she was sitting. ‘He says you are very much recovered. He doesn't think that there is any reason you shouldn't travel to London with me next week.'

‘Yes, that is what he told me, too. But that is not the only thing he told me.' She stood up and stepped up to him, putting her hands on his cravat and tugging it loose. ‘Or the most interesting.'

His mouth twitched when she glanced up at him. ‘I presume what he said has something to do with what you are currently doing?'

‘You are very perceptive, husband of mine,' she purred, smiling as she pulled the cravat off, then started to undo the buttons on his dark blue brocade waistcoat. Stepping around him, she removed his coat and vest, then stood before him again, her fingers busy at the laces on his shirt.

‘And will I ever be privy to what it is that he has told you, or do I have to guess?' The duke's voice was amused, but she could hear something else in his tone. She looked into his eyes. Desire lit them from within as he regarded her, a sensual cast coming upon his features.

Her body ached for his, the throbbing between her thighs urging her to hurry. Alethea licked her suddenly dry lips, seeing his gaze drop to her mouth, his eyes becoming hooded with arousal. She stepped back and lifted her shift over her head, gratified to hear his sharply indrawn breath at the sight of her nudity. Then it was her turn to stare as he removed his shoes and the last of his garments, baring his sculpted torso and limbs to her greedy eyes.

Before she could draw another breath, he picked her up and deposited her gently on her bed. Bracing his hands next to her, he bent and kissed her. His mouth was gentle as it explored hers and a soft sound of pleasure escaped her throat at the familiar taste of him. She reached up and slipped her fingers into his hair, loosening it from its queue. His kiss deepened, and then he pulled away abruptly.

Alethea stared up at him, wondering if she looked as dazed as she felt. ‘James?'

‘Are you sure you are well enough, Alethea?' He looked at her with such concern that a surge of love burst through her. ‘Did Dr Mortimer really —'

‘Yes, he did,' she interrupted, tugging his head back down to hers. ‘And yes, I am very sure. Please, James, please, love me.'