In the Bed of a Duke (16 page)

Folding his arms under his head, he lay on his back and tried to think of anything but the woman by his side. He resisted the urge to touch her hair or gather her close. He would not offer her protection, not if she didn’t want it—

She turned to him, her hand moving up to rest on his chest. Her palm flattened over his heart.

Phillip didn’t move. He didn’t dare breathe. His body went hard with a force that was staggering. He wanted her this close to him. In fact, he needed her—but not, he realized, just for act of sex. He wanted her closeness, her warmth. Her trust.

And now, here she was, snuggling close to him as open and guileless as a child, her body curved to accommodate his.

God must be laughing
—

Her lips brushed his neck.

Phillip held himself still, thinking he was imagining this, praying he wasn’t.

She traced her soft kiss with her tongue.

He rolled her up onto his chest. Her eyes opened and met his. Her hair created a curtain around them.

“Do you know what you are doing?” he asked. “I’m not stone, Charlotte. I don’t want to be.”

“I’m not either.”

“And yet?” he prompted. “Speak to me, love. What is it you fear?”

The tension in her body fled. Her eyes softened. “You called me ‘love.’ Do you mean it, Phillip?”

He didn’t hesitate. At this moment, she and this bed were the center of his world. “With all my heart.”

Her lips came down on his, kissing him deeply.

Phillip didn’t resist. He kissed back. Theirs was a passion that had to be obeyed. He surrendered to it now. Whatever the future held was unimportant at this moment. Nothing mattered save the feel, taste, and texture of this woman in his arms.

He threw back the covers and began kissing the tender skin right below her chin. She sighed with pleasure, the sound music to his ear. He ran his hand down over the curve of her waist, turning her toward him and giving himself the access he needed to unlace her dress.

She stroked his side, running her hand up over his shoulder and around his neck. She slid her tongue across the line of his bottom lip, the sensation of it went straight to his groin. Phillip tossed aside seduction in favor of pure unbridled lust. He had to have Charlotte and soon.

He pulled at her bodice, not caring if he tore her dress or not. He wanted to touch her breasts, to hold their weight and taste them. She was perfectly formed for him. A goddess.

“Beautiful woman,” he whispered. “Warm, willing woman.”

She smiled, her fingers unbuttoning his breeches, her hand finding the length of him and closing around him.

All the blood left Phillip’s brain. He couldn’t think, let alone reason when she held him like
this and yet, he’d not have her release him for any amount of gold.

Phillip slid her dress up over her head and tossed it to the floor. She wore nothing but her garters and stockings and looked delicious. He kissed her shoulder, her breasts, her stomach, causing her to release her hold. He didn’t want them to go too fast. He wanted this to last.

She squirmed as his whiskers tickled her belly and giggled when he nibbled soft, soft skin—before dipping lower and kissing her intimately.

Charlotte sucked in her breath in shocked surprise. She started to pull away even as her legs parted for him.

Phillip placed his hands on her hips, insisting that she let him, that she trust him.

Elizabeth would never have let him attempt such a thing. She might have shut her bedroom door to him altogether.

But this was Charlotte. There were no doors between them, or boundaries.

Charlotte whispered his name, sounding a bit panicky and yet amazed. He smiled. If ever there was a way to bind a woman to a man, it was this one. Her pleasure gave him his. The sheets pulled as she curled her fingers in them. Her breathing grew rapid, more urgent. He could feel the tension coiling inside her. Taste the building pressure. She twisted as if seeking a moment’s
respite. He wouldn’t let her escape. She whimpered, the sound ending on a moan. His name became her plea, a prayer begging him to help her seek release. It drove Phillip, maddening him with a desire to see her fulfilled.

And then she gave a sharp gasp. Her hips raised, and he could feel deep muscles contract. He knew where she was—and that he’d been the one to bring her there.

Without hesitation, he rose and thrust himself deep, marveling at her heat, at the blessed tightness. Was there ever a woman as magical as Charlotte?

His release was immediate and even more intense than hers. More intense than any he’d ever had before. Her heat fused them, joining him to her forever—

The moment was broken when the man in the room next to theirs pounded on the wall. “Would you keep it quiet in there?” a thick Scot’s accent said.

Phillip frowned, brought back to the here and now by the man’s rude interruption. He barely recognized his surroundings, had to think a moment to realize where he was. It was as if he had journeyed to the heavens and back. The world had changed. It looked the same, but it wasn’t.

No, his life would never be the same.

He looked down at Charlotte, and she appeared
equally startled. A thin coat of sweat covered both of them, and he still held her hips in his hands.

An instant’s panic flashed through him. She was vitally precious to him. What right had he to be here with her now? Charlotte had wanted a duke. She wanted marriage. Considering the current state of affairs, he didn’t know if he could offer her either.

And then she smiled, and he couldn’t help but shove doubts aside. They didn’t matter. Not right now.

He grinned back, resting himself on top of her, the two of them hugging as if they could climb into each other.

“I don’t want to leave this place,” Charlotte whispered. “Or this moment.”

“I don’t either.” He’d never so fully meant a statement.

She pulled back and studied him a moment, her expression serious. “Don’t dwell on it,” he ordered. “We’ll sort it out in the morning, but don’t spoil this moment.”

“Can we sort it out?” she wondered.

He knew what she asked…and couldn’t answer. What sort of commitment could he, a man so uncertain of his own future, make?

“We will,” he vowed.

This time, when he kissed her, she responded.

Sweet, sweet Charlotte
.

There was nothing else for him to do but make love to her again.

Charlotte lay awake long after Phillip fell asleep. His body was curled around hers, his hand tucked between her breasts, his other arm cradling her head.

His whiskers were still prickly, and her skin burned from where they’d rubbed her in some embarrassing places.

She’d never felt so completely content or as unsettled.

She was in love.

A void in her life had been discovered and filled beyond all expectations. Dear Lord how it had been filled. His warmth seeped into her. She snuggled toward him, needing to be as close to him as possible. His legs were entwined with hers, her foot resting on the top of his.

And she knew that this intense need, this desire was dangerous. In a short amount of time, Phillip Maddox had consumed her life with his. Effortlessly, she had compromised her every principle. He had only to touch her, and she’d fall into his arms.

The first signs of dawn began to lighten the sky
to shades of purple and pink. The rooster crowed repeatedly, and she wondered if he wasn’t trying to give her a warning.

If Miranda or Constance had let a man do what she’d let Phillip do to her, she would have been ashamed of them. However, she felt no shame. She craved more.

Covering his hand with hers, she confessed, “I care for you far more than I should.”

His answer was to shift his weight, enveloping her even more with his body as if he’d never let her go, and she prayed he wouldn’t.

Charlotte woke, surprised she had fallen asleep.

She wasn’t certain exactly what woke her. At first, she thought it was the sun streaming in through the window, its light so bright her eyes didn’t want to open. Sounds of life came from the outside—voices of travelers setting off on their way and bidding farewell to the innkeeper, the clop and stamping of horses’ hooves as they set off on their way, the barking of a dog—

Someone was in the room.

Charlotte made the realization the same time Phillip did. He sat upright, throwing a protective arm over her body. “What the devil!”

Justin sat on the edge of their bed, one leg crossed over another, the Sword of the MacKenna
resting on his thighs. He sliced an apple with the dirk his divorced wife had used to attempt to kill him. He smiled, his teeth white in his beard. “Morning, brother.”

U
namused, Phillip said, “Go away.”

Justin popped a large slice of the apple in his mouth before saying, “I thought you would be happier to see me.”

Phillip ran a hand over his face. Charlotte had dived beneath the sheets. She was mortified. He could feel the heat of her embarrassment. “And I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Would you really give me the dukedom?” Justin said, cramming another piece of apple in his mouth.

“We can discuss this later. Go downstairs and wait. As you can see your
uninvited
presence is not welcome.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard all about the two of you,” Justin said, giving no indication of preparing to leave. “Apparently, you kept half the inn up last
night with your caterwauling. The guest next door was demanding his money back.”

That was it
. Phillip rose from the bed naked, marched the two steps to the door, and threw it open. “Out.”

Justin leaned back against the footboard, resting his weight on one arm—the very image of a gentleman of leisure. “Well now,” he said to Charlotte, a half smile playing on his lips. “We may be twins but here is one
big
difference between us.” He pinched the air, his thumb and forefinger no more than an inch apart. “My brother’s pecker is a puny thing compared to my bonny—”

His boast was cut short when Phillip grabbed him by the ear and gave it a savage twist. Justin yelped but that didn’t stop Phillip. He led his brother by the ear to the door and shoved him out. “Downstairs,” he barked before shutting the door in Justin’s face.

“What a bloody pest,” he muttered to himself, and then turned to see Charlotte in the bed, her hair mussed, her lips still swollen from his kisses of last night. Thoughts of his brother vanished.

“You are beautiful.” The compliment just tumbled out of his mouth. He took a step toward her but was stopped as Justin pounded on the door with all his force.

“Don’t keep me cooling my heels downstairs,” he ordered. “I’m not a patient man.”

Phillip answered by pounding the door back.

His brother burst out laughing, and then there was the blessed sound of his footsteps clumping down the stairs.

“Everyone heard us?” Charlotte said, alarmed.

“He’s just saying that,” Phillip assured her. How good it was to wake up with a woman. He liked seeing her all rosy and pink and well loved in the morning. “It’s all part of his crudeness.” He climbed into the bed, ready, willing, and very, very able to take Charlotte in his arms.

She thwarted him by sliding out the other side of the mattress, pulling the sheet with her as she went and wrapping it around her nakedness. “We were loud,” she whispered, mortified. “A man did yell at us through the wall.”

“That man was jealous,” Phillip said. He grabbed a piece of the sheet, winding it around his hand to bring her close enough to sit back on the bed.

Charlotte resisted, tugged at her sheet, keeping her breast covered. When she blushed, she turned red from her toes to her hairline. “You should go downstairs. Your brother is waiting.”

“Let him wait,” Phillip murmured, giving the sheet one hard yank and winning it from her.

With a small gasp of feminine alarm she reached for her dress, which was still on the floor where he had tossed it the night before. Phillip
looped his arms around her waist, pulling her down to the bed beside him.

He threw a leg over hers, using it to weigh her in place while he stroked the soft skin of her waist. No woman had ever been so lovely to him. He kissed her neck. “You are the only breakfast I need.”

This time, she didn’t fight.

Her lips curved into a smile. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he promised, his voice low. “I want you every single morning and perhaps for lunch and dinner, too.”

She laughed, raising a hand to cover her mouth as if embarrassed.

“Don’t,” he said, taking her hand and holding it between them. “Don’t ever be shy around me, Charlotte. You need never fear me, or keep secrets, or hesitate in saying what you think and need. I’d do nothing to harm you. Ever.” He pressed her palm around his arousal.

Her lashes swept down over eyes darkened by anticipation. “But you want to gobble me up,” she protested. Her fingers caressed him.

“And other things,” he agreed, slipping his finger inside her. Her muscles contracted. “Amazing,” he whispered. “You are amazing.”

She blushed, and he was charmed. He kissed her shoulder. “And if I could find a silk the color of your hair or the red rose of your nipples,” he
continued, “I’d swath it over every window and chair I own.” He kissed her breast.

Her legs bent, an invitation…and yet she took his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“What?” he asked, turning his head to kiss the inside of her arm.

“Please, Phillip, I need a moment to talk to you.”

Phillip didn’t want to talk. However, he gave her his attention, knowing he must before he could move on to immeasurably more interesting matters than conversation.

Her eyes look troubled. “What is it?” he asked.

She hesitated, taking a moment to wet her lips as if nervous. “I could care for you,” she confessed, her voice low as if fearing being overheard.

“I know,” he answered. “I want you to care for me.” He nuzzled her neck and shoulder. Her breast was only inches from his mouth. Considering the matter resolved, he started to lower his head but she pulled him back up.

Her fingers curled in his hair. She made him look at her. “What will happen? Perhaps, we shouldn’t be this involved.”

He didn’t pretend to mistake her meaning. “It’s too late. We’re both involved.”

“Are you?” she asked, her voice anxious.

Phillip settled himself on top of her, letting her feel the power of his arousal. “I’d protect you
with my life, my Charlotte. Do you understand? Name your price.”

Her expressive eyes studied him a moment. “Marriage.”

He heard the word as if from a distance. Her heat distracted him. In truth, at this moment, he would have agreed to anything. Later he would sort it out. Later, he could explain that as much as he loved her—and
he did
. He knew that to the depths of his bones. This was more than mere lust. Charlotte was a piece of his soul. She alone defied, challenged, and irritated him in ways no one else ever had, and he adored her for it. She was the voice of reason, his conscience, his partner. But as much as he loved her—he could never marry her.

He had responsibilities to his family’s estate, to the titles—not just the ducal one but the numerous others that had been gained over the generations.

That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t love, honor, and support her. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Charlotte. But he’d learned a lesson in the aftermath of her sister Miranda’s jilting. A nobleman paid a price for going outside his own class.

“Marriage,” he murmured, clearheaded enough not to commit to a direction. Instead, he punctuated the word with a deep, soul-drinking kiss.

He knew what Charlotte liked in her kisses. He knew she wouldn’t resist. She didn’t. With a soft sigh of contentment, her body melded with his. He slid inside her, and conversation was forgotten.

Charlotte fell back to sleep.

Phillip raised from the bed carefully, not wanting to disturb her. She slept as if exhausted, and he needed a moment to speak to his brother alone.

It had been over an hour since he’d sent Justin downstairs. He dressed in shirt, breeches, and boots and took the backstairs leading to the outside. The cold rain barrel water felt good. He washed the best he could. His whiskers irritated him. He rubbed his jaw with his hand and went in search of the innkeeper, whom he found in the taproom cleaning the tables.

Justin was there, too. He sat with his arms crossed, his chair tilted back against a wall. “Did you have fun?” he asked Phillip, his eyes alight with anger at being made to cool his heels.

“It took a while to get dressed,” Phillip answered without apology, thinking to himself he needed to school his twin in manners—although he would not do it with the innkeeper present.

“I imagine,” Justin said with a doubtful snort, one the innkeeper echoed.

Phillip was going to have to do more than “school” his brother. He may need to beat him.

Giving Justin his back, Phillip said to the innkeeper, “I need a razor and shaving soap. Do you have any?”

“I can get that for you,” he answered. “It will cost you.”

“Whatever. I need it now. And,” he said, catching the man before he left the room, “I’ll also pay for your guest who made a complaint this morning. He sounds like a mean one. I’ll not have you inconvenienced on my account.”

The innkeeper raised his eyebrows to his hairline, a new sense of respect easing into his attitude for Phillip. This time, when he started to leave the room, he gave a short bow.

Phillip turned to his brother, who said, “You didn’t ask how much the man would charge you.”

“I have the amount to cover a razor,” Phillip answered and decided he wanted an ale for breakfast. He felt good, better than he had in ages. He went behind the bar and helped himself to tankard and ale from the barrel. “Do you want one?”

“Aye.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

Justin’s gaze narrowed. “No.”

Phillip carried the two tankards to the table just as the innkeeper returned with a well-used, but sharp, razor and a cake of soap. “What do you have to break our fast?” Phillip asked him.

“Depends on what you want—my lord,” the innkeeper added the title with caution. Phillip didn’t correct. Let the education of Justin begin. “I have some sausages.”

“And bread?” Phillip wondered.

“Aye, the wife baked it fresh yesterday.”

“Good,” Phillip said. “We’ll take that and some cheese.”

“No,
we
won’t,” Justin said. He brought his chair down to the floor. “I don’t like cheese, and I can order for myself.”

Phillip had never heard of anyone not liking cheese. It was one of his favorite foods. However, he didn’t want to start a quarrel with this difficult, surly, ill-mannered fellow who just happened to be related to him. “Order, then,” he said, and took a chair opposite Justin’s at the table.

“I’ll take bread and a sausage,” his brother said. He lifted his tankard and drained it down in one smooth gulp. “And another ale.” There was an unmistakable challenge in his voice. Perhaps he thought to school Phillip…?

He wouldn’t.

Phillip drained his own tankard, proud to take less time than Justin. He set the tankard down. “I’ll have another, too.”

The innkeeper looked between the two men as if confused by the undeclared contest between
them, and then understanding dawned. “Are the two of you brothers?”

Phillip could have said yes. He didn’t. He waited to see what Justin would say—and that was nothing. His brother hunkered down as if trying to ignore Phillip’s presence.

Silence stretched a long moment with neither Phillip nor Justin speaking. The innkeeper made an annoyed sound. “You’ve already helped yourself to the ale. You can do it again. I’ll be back with your sausages and cheese.”

When they were alone, Justin snorted, and said in his rolling brogue, “Funny how you didn’t speak up and answer the man’s question. I thought you insisted in being in charge of the world.”

“Me? I was waiting for you.” Phillip lifted his tankard, and then remembered it was empty. He set it back down. The brew had been a bit flat to his taste, much like his reunion with Justin. His brother was turning out to be the most obstinate, annoying man ever. He didn’t even like cheese. “Everyone likes cheese.”

“I don’t,”
Justin answered, rising to get more ale. He didn’t bother to take Phillip’s tankard.

“Perhaps,” Phillip suggested, “you would have been happier if I’d left you with MacKenna.”

Justin ignored him until he returned to the table. He tilted back in his chair again, his gaze shifting away to a far corner of the room.

Phillip was tempted to tell him he was being a complete horse’s arse. However, he reminded himself that
he
was a diplomat. He’d negotiated with hordes of irritatingly rude people. He should be able to manage a one brother.

“So what brought you back?” Phillip asked. He rose from the table with his tankard. He stared across the room toward the bar.

“The money.”

Of course
. Phillip stopped dead in his tracks. Outrage flowed through every vein in his body. He’d risked his life for this man, a man who was turning out to be alarmingly common.

“I am the oldest,” Justin said, “and that makes me a duke.” And then, to add emphasis to his words, he belched, the sound carrying in the stillness between them. His gaze met Phillip’s. Almost gleefully, he said, “Having second thoughts yet?”

His belligerency tested Phillip’s calm veneer. “Perhaps you’d prefer staying in Scotland.”

“It’s too late,” Justin said. “You’ve convinced me. I want what you have. Perhaps even take a gander at Miss Cameron since she seems fond of dukes.”

That was it.

Phillip calmly walked over to the table, set down his tankard, and grabbed his brother by the throat, shoving the table and chairs that were empty aside in the process.

But Justin wasn’t in the mood to take being throttled. He kicked chair out of the way so that he could get free, and then threw his fists at Phillip. In a blink, the two of them were battling it out across the taproom.

Charlotte heard a crash and the grunts of exertion. She knew what was happening. She’d witnessed far too many fights on the frontier not to know the sounds.

The twins were at each other again.

She’d napped a few minutes after Phillip had left but had realized she’d rather be with him. Her toilette had been hasty. She’d brushed her hair with her fingers the best she could.

Now, hurrying to the taproom door, she was stunned to see tables and chairs being tossed aside as they pounded away at each other.

Phillip was actually the more disciplined fighter. He belonged to that set of Corinthians who enjoyed training with pugilists. He was quick, clever.