The Duke and I (31 page)

 He waved off her question. "What else did she say?"

 "She told me that the, ah, whatever it is
you
wish to call it—"

 Simon found her sarcasm oddly admirable under the circumstances.

 "—is related in some manner to the procreation of children, and—"

 Simon thought he might choke on his tongue. "In some manner?"

 "Well, yes." Daphne frowned. "She really didn't provide me with any specifics."

 "Clearly."

 "She did try her best," Daphne pointed out, thinking she ought at least to try to come to her mother's defense. "It was very embarrassing for her."

 "After eight children," he muttered, "you'd think she'd be over that by now."

 "I don't think so," Daphne said, shaking her head. "And then when I asked her if she'd participated in this"—she looked up at him with an exasperated expression. "I really don't know what else to call it but an act."

 "Go right ahead," he said with a wave, his voice sounding awfully strained.

 Daphne blinked with concern. "Are you all right?"

 "Just fine," he choked.

 "You don't sound fine."

 He waved his hand some more, giving Daphne the odd impression that he couldn't speak.

 "Well," she said slowly, going back to her earlier story, "I asked her if that meant she'd participated in this act eight times, and she became very embarrassed, and—"

 "You asked her that?" Simon burst out, the words escaping his mouth like an explosion.

 "Well, yes." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you laughing?"

 "No," he gasped.

 Her lips twisted into a small scowl. "You certainly look as if you're laughing."

 Simon just shook his head in a decidedly frantic manner.

 "Well," Daphne said, clearly disgruntled. "I thought my question made perfect sense, seeing as she has eight children. But then she told me that—"

 He shook his head and held up a hand, and now he looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Don't tell me. I beg of you."

 "Oh." Daphne didn't know what to say to that, so she just clamped her hands together in her lap and shut her mouth.

 Finally, she heard Simon take a long, ragged breath, and say, "I know I'm going to regret asking you this. In fact, I regret it already, but
why
exactly did you assume I was"—he shuddered—"unable to perform?"

 "Well, you said you couldn't have children."

 "Daphne, there are many, many other reasons why a couple might be unable to have children."

 Daphne had to force herself to stop grinding her teem. "I really
hate
how stupid I feel right now," she muttered.

 He leaned forward and pried her hands apart. "Daphne," he said softly, massaging her fingers with his, "do you have any idea what happens between a man and a woman?"

 "I haven't a clue," she said frankly. "You'd think I would, with three older brothers, and I thought I'd finally learn the truth last night when my mother—"

 "Don't say anything more," he said in the oddest voice. "Not another word. I couldn't bear it"

 "But—"

 His head fell into his hands, and for a moment Daphne thought he might be crying. But then, as she satthere castigating

herself for making her husband weep on his wedding day, she realized that his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

 The fiend.

 "Are you laughing at me?" she growled.

 He shook his head, not looking up.

 "Then what are you laughing about?"

 "Oh, Daphne," he gasped, "you have a lot to learn."

 "Well, I never disputed
that,"
she grumbled. Really, if people weren't so intent on keeping young women completely

ignorant of the realities of marriage, scenes like this could be avoided.

 He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes grew positively electric. "I can teach you," he whispered.

 Daphne's stomach did a little flip.

 Never once taking his eyes off of hers, Simon took her hand and raised it to her lips. "I assure you," he murmured, flicking his tongue down the line of her middle finger, "I am perfectly able to satisfy you in bed."

 Daphne suddenly found it difficult to breathe. And when had the room grown so hot? "I-I'm not sure I know what you mean."

 He yanked her into his arms. "You will."

 Chapter 15

 London seems terribly quiet this week, now that society's favorite duke and that duke's favorite duchess have departed for the country. This Author could report that Mr. Nigel Berbrooke was seen asking Miss Penelope Featherington to dance, or that Miss Penelope, despite her mother's gleeful urging and her eventual acceptance of his offer, did not seem terribly enamored with the notion .

 But really, who wants to read about Mr. Berbrooke or Miss Penelope? Let us not fool ourselves. We are all

 still
ravenously curious about the duke and duchess.
 

 Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 28 May 1813

 It was like being in Lady Trowbridge's garden all over again, Daphne thought wildly, except that this time there would be no interruptions—no furious older brothers, no fear of discovery, nothing but a husband, a wife, and the promise of passion.

 Simon's lips found hers, gentle but demanding. With each touch, each flick of his tongue, she felt flutterings within her, tiny spasms of need that were building in pitch and frequency.

 "Have I told you," he whispered, "how enamored I am of the corner of your mouth?"

 "N-no," Daphne said tremulously, amazed that he'd ever even once examined it.

 "I adore it," he murmured, and then went to show her how. His teeth scraped along her lower lip until his tongue darted

out and traced the curve of the corner of her mouth.

 It tickled, and Daphne felt her lips spreading into a wide, open-mouthed smile. "Stop," she giggled.

 "Never," he vowed. He pulled back, cradling her face in his hands. "You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen."

 Daphne's initial reaction was to say, "Don't be silly," but then she thought—
Why ruin such a moment?
—and so she

just said, "Really?"

 "Really." He dropped a kiss on her nose. "When you smile it takes up half your face."

 "Simon!" she exclaimed. "That sounds horrible."

 "It's enchanting."

 "Distorted."

 "Desirable."

 She grimaced, but somehow she laughed at the same time. "Clearly, you have no knowledge of the standards of female beauty."

 He arched a brow. "As pertains to you, my standards are the only ones that count any longer."

 For a moment she was speechless, then she collapsed against him, a torrent of laughter shaking both of their bodies.

"Oh, Simon," she gasped, "you sounded so fierce. So wonderfully, perfectly, absurdly fierce."

 "Absurd?" he echoed. "Are you calling me absurd?"

 Her lips tightened to prevent another giggle, but they weren't entirely successful.

 "It's almost as bad as being called impotent," he grumbled.

 Daphne was instantly serious. "Oh, Simon, You know I didn't..." She gave up trying to explain, and instead just said,

"I'm so sorry about that."

 "Don't be." He waved off her apology. "Your mother I may have to kill, but you have nothing to apologize for."

 A horrified giggle escaped her lips. "Mother did try her best, and if I hadn't been confused because you said—"

 "Oh, so now it's all my fault?" he said with mock outrage. But then his expression grew sly, seductive. He moved closer, angling his body so that she had to arch backwards. "I suppose I'll just have to work doubly hard to prove my capabilities."

 One of his hands slid to the small of her back, supporting her as he lowered her onto the bed. Daphne felt the breath leave her body as she looked up into his intensely blue eyes. The world seemed somehow different when one was lying down. Darker, more dangerous. And all the more thrilling because Simon was looming above her, filling her vision.

 And in that moment, as he slowly closed the distance between them, he became her entire world.

 This time his kiss wasn't light. He didn't tickle; he devoured. He didn't tease; he possessed.

 His hands slipped under her, cradling her derriere, pressing it up against his arousal. "Tonight," he whispered, his voice

hoarse and hot in her ear, "I will make you mine."

 Daphne's breath started coming faster and faster, each little gasp of air impossibly loud to her ears. Simon was so close,

every inch of him covering her intimately. She'd imagined this night a thousand times sincethat moment in Regent's Park when he'd said he would marry her, but it had never occurred to her that the sheer weight of his body on hers would be so thrilling. He was large and hard and exquisitely muscled; there was no way she could escape his seductive onslaught, even if she'd wanted to.

 How strange it was to feel such titillating joy at being so powerless. He could do with her whatever he desired—and she wanted to let him.

 But when his body shuddered, and his lips tried to say her name but didn't get beyond "D-D-Daph—" she realized that she possessed her own kind of control. He wanted her so much he couldn't breathe, needed her so badly he couldn't speak.

 And somehow, as she reveled in her newfound strength, she found that her body seemed to know what to do. Her hips

arched up to meet his, and as his hands pushed her skirts up over her waist, her legs snaked around his, pulling him ever

closer to the cradle of her femininity.

 "My God, Daphne," Simon gasped, hauling his shaking body up on his elbows. "I want to—I can't—"

 Daphne grabbed at his back, trying to pull him back down to her. The air felt cool where his body had just been.

 "I can't go slow," he grunted.

 "I don't care."

 "I do." His eyes burned with wicked intention. "We seem to be getting ahead of ourselves."

 Daphne just stared at him, trying to catch her breath. He'd sat up, and his eyes were raking across her body as one of

his hands slid up the length of her leg to her knee.

 "First of all," he murmured, "we need to do something about all of your clothes."

 Daphne gasped with shock as he stood, pulling her to her feet along with him. Her legs were weak, her balance nonexistent, but he held her upright, his hands bunching her skirts around her waist. He whispered in her ear, "It's difficult to strip you naked when you're lying down."

 One of his hands found the curve of her buttocks, and started massaging her in a circular motion. "The question," he mused, "is do I push the dress up, or pull it down?"Daphne prayed that he wasn't expecting her to actually answer his question, because she couldn't make a sound."Or," he said slowly, one finger slipping under the ribboned bodice of her dress, "both?"

 And then, before she had even a moment to react, he'd pushed her dress down so that the entire garment encircled her

waist. Her legs were bare, and were it not for her thin silk chemise, she would have been completely naked.

 "Now this is a surprise," Simon murmured, palming one of her breasts through the silk. "Not an entirely unwelcome one, of course. Silk is never as soft as skin, but it does have its advantages."

 Daphne's breath fled as she watched him slide the silk slowly from side to side, the sweet friction causing her nipples to

pucker and harden.

 "I had no idea," Daphne whispered, her every breath sliding hot and moist across her lips.

 Simon went to work on her other breast. "No idea of what?"

 "That you were so wicked."

 He smiled, slow and full of the devil. His lips moved to her ear, whispering, "You were my best friend's sister. Utterly forbidden. What was I to do?"

 Daphne shivered with desire. His breath touched only her ear, but her skin prickled across her entire body.

 "I could do nothing," he continued, edging one strap of her chemise off her shoulder, "except imagine."

 "You thought about me?" Daphne whispered, her body thrilling at the notion. "You thought about this?"

 His hand at her hip grew tight. "Every night. Every moment before I fell asleep, until my skin burned and my body begged for release."

 Daphne felt her legs wobble, but he held her up.

 "And then when I was asleep..." He moved to her neck, his hot breath as much of a kiss as the touch of his lips. "That's

when I was truly naughty."

 A moan escaped her lips, strangled and incoherent and full of desire.

 The second chemise strap fell off her shoulder just as Simon's lips found the tantalizing hollow between her breasts. "But tonight—" he whispered, pushing the silk down until one breast was bared, and then the other. 'Tonight all of my dreams come true."

 Daphne had time only to gasp before his mouth found her breast and fastened on her hardened nipple.