Must Love Dukes (3 page)

When he hesitated, she held out her hand and motioned for him to comply. Something in the tilt of her head and the look in her eyes made him wonder if she had played nursemaid before. He had been bandaged as a boy too many times to count and knew the look of efficiency and experience at once.

Who was she and who had she cared for before?

An odd sense of jealousy bit at him, which was completely irrational since he had only met her today. Whoever had benefited from her care in the past was irrelevant. Bringing his mind back to the present, he offered her his hand with the bloody knuckles.

As she began to wrap the handkerchief around his hand, tying it neatly at the corners, he could not pull his focus from the feel of her fingers on his palm. The light, glancing touches made him want more. He cleared his throat. “I cannot imagine what gave him the idea that he could take such liberties with you. That oaf in the tavern, I mean.”

Her face flooded with color as she looked down at herself in an assessing manner. “I don’t know, either! No man has ever tried to do anything like that. Although I have never before squeezed into one of Mama’s old dresses.” Her mouth closed abruptly, and her eyes widened as if she realized she had said something inappropriate.

“This isn’t how you usually dress?”

“Heavens no,” was her only response, clearly closing the door on the subject. “There you are. You will want to clean that and bandage it properly when you get home.”

The handkerchief was wound and tied neatly around his hand with a perfect knot in the center. He couldn’t imagine that he could do a better job of it once home. He tended not to bandage his scratches anyway. Life aboard a ship had taught him that fresh air and sunshine healed better than any bandage. He shrugged off the advice and lifted his gaze to Lily.

His eyes lingered on the view of exposed pale skin her dress offered before meeting those clear blue eyes. Her breasts were displayed like delicious cakes in a baker’s window. He kept his eyes on hers but could not seem to control his fingers as they greatly desired to dip into the cake frosting before him and take a large lick.

“I rather like your dress.” He ran his fingers over the row of lace that trimmed the deep neckline, skating one finger along the creamy skin it exposed. He watched as she swallowed and looked back into his eyes. She did not flinch or pull away as he had expected her to. Even when foxed, ladies tended to attempt an air of propriety, in his experience. But Lily was not like other ladies. That much he knew.

“Did he bruise you here? When he grabbed you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Good. I would hate to have to return to the tavern to kill him.” His finger traced back across the lace, almost touching her skin but not daring to do so.

“Don’t leave.”

She had only spoken two small words, yet they pounded in his ears with joy. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to be with him. It took every fiber of his control not to dive onto her right there, in the back of a hired carriage as it jostled down the street. But Lily deserved better than that. She had recently been mauled by a drunken ruffian, and he didn’t want to be the second in line for that honor this day. No, he would take his time with her. They had all evening to be together, after all.

“I won’t leave. You’ve been through quite a trial. And I’m not inclined to leave you just now anyway.” Emboldened by her words, he trailed the backs of his fingers over one creamy mound and watched as it rose and fell with her quickened breaths.

Lifting the pearl necklace from her throat, he ran a finger under it, gently pulling her closer. Her eyes blinked once, then twice, before fluttering shut as his lips met hers.

It was a sweet kiss, the innocent kiss of someone who’d only read and heard of kisses but had never experienced one firsthand. He almost chuckled. Kissing her once more in the reverent manner she must have envisioned was appropriate, he allowed her to grow comfortable with his closeness.

Sliding one hand around the back of her neck, he held her still while he increased the intensity, his lips searching hers, his quiet request becoming a demanding growl. She made a small squeak of alarm as his tongue slid past her teeth. Then she leaned into him in a blatant plea for more. Her citrus-flavored mouth was soft and willing under his lips. He felt her hand reach for his shoulder, landing light and shaky as if she was afraid to touch him.

His arm slipped around her waist, wrapping around her, pulling her closer. The contact was not enough. He needed more. She must have felt the same, for she pushed closer to him, her breasts pressed against his chest. In that small motion, she seemed to let go of all pretense of ladylike behavior, because she then slid her hands into his hair and began to kiss him back, mimicking every flick of his tongue and press of his lips.

He lifted her and set her on his lap. Breaking contact with her lips, he trailed kisses across her cheek to tug on her earlobe with his teeth, kissing his way down the slim column of her neck. Her hands wound around the back of his neck, twining his hair between her fingers.

His lips paused at the base of her throat to suck on the point where her pulse pounded wildly. Her head fell back on a moan.

He kissed his way down the expanse of exposed skin at her neck, wanting to feel her body, to taste her. The contact was not enough, but her large dress would not allow him the access he so desired. He pushed down the piles of fabric bunched between them to run his hands over her thin yet curved frame, only to have her skirts bounce back to block his path. He groaned in frustration only to hear her giggle over his difficulties with her dress.

“You find this amusing, do you?”

“Only a bit.” She offered him a dreamy smile as her eyes dropped to his lips and her smile faded. She kissed him again, the intensity growing with every passing second. The carriage hit a bump and their heads collided, breaking the moment that could have drawn out forever.

He chuckled and set her back on the seat at his side, watching her rub her forehead with a frown. “The back of a carriage is no place to do this.”

“Yes. I can see now the dangers involved,” she said with a crooked smile.

“Lily, you have no idea the danger you are in at the moment.” He ran the backs of his fingers down the line of her jaw, watching as she tried to decipher his words of warning.

“Am I?”

“Only if you wish to be.”

A silence fell between them as they gazed into each other’s eyes. All that could be heard for the next few minutes was the gentle clip-clop of the horse’s hooves hitting the cobblestone road. He did not want to leave her on some doorstep and have this day end.

“I want to show you my gallery this evening. Come home with me.”

She sat watching him for a moment with pursed lips. “What if someone sees me? Sees us…alone…in your gallery?”

“I live alone and have well-compensated servants. I’ll show you the findings from my travels.”
Please say yes
, he pleaded in silence.

She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes. To see your plantings and artifacts, I will come.”

Devon released the breath he’d been holding as a smile spread across his face. He would not have to leave her. Not yet.

Her hand slid across the sheet to remove the hot blanket placed on her during the night. Why was her pillow fluffed so high? When had her bed become this soft? Nothing felt right. Just then her hand encountered the thickly muscled forearm wrapped around her body.

“Blast it all.” Lillian murmured the pained whisper into the darkness. “What have I gotten myself into?”

The sinewy man at her side shifted in his sleep, sliding his hand across her skin to rest his warm fingers over her breast, anchoring her to the bed and pulling her closer. She inhaled a quick breath as the previous night’s activities came rushing back to her mind in sharp relief. Bond Street, the tavern, the drinks, Devon. That was his name, was it not?

Yes, Devon Grey, that was it. The way he kissed her lips, her body, and, oh my, she had allowed him to… She glanced down to confirm the disturbing fact that she had on not a stitch of clothing.

How had she let this simple plan go so horribly awry?

The warmth of his body seeped into her spine, his deep breaths fanning over her hair where it spilled onto the pillow behind her. Something hard ground into her back. Mortification flushed her cheeks at the thought of what it must be. Before last night she would have thought he slept with a pistol, but this morning she knew differently.

She needed to be gone from this place soon, away from his sinful kisses, away from the reckless behavior he encouraged and the risk of falling back into his arms again. She had already allowed things to go too far. Who could blame her? But an evening together was all that could ever be between them. This was certainly why it was not advisable to drink large amounts of liquor with a man.

Lillian shifted in the largest movement she dared, a minute shiver, moving away from the man at her side. When he did not stir she wiggled again, sliding gently to the edge of the bed. Kicking with one foot, she tried to untangle her bare limbs from the sheets. Yet they held her, binding her to his bed. With another swift thrust, she found herself falling to the carpeted floor. Landing on her hands, she winced at the sharp pain stabbing through her wrist and mouthed a silent “ouch” in the darkness.

After hanging there by her ankles with the cool morning air chilling her skin and her rear exposed to anyone who happened to be peering in the windows, she pulled her legs free and began to crawl toward the foot of the bed. This was certainly a new experience, creeping out of a man’s bedchamber before dawn in the buff. She’d claimed to want more adventure in her life, but somehow this was not what she had in mind.

The sound of a carriage rolling down the street quickened her pace. Soon the muted glow of daylight would spread, spilling its warmth across the city. She must get away before one of Devon’s household staff caught sight of her. They would certainly be up soon. She gained her footing and rounded the corner of the poster bed, still crouching low—as she imagined was the proper way to sneak about a strange man’s room in the dark. Lillian spotted her chemise where it had landed in a heap by the door.

Rounding the far side of the bed, she searched for her corset. The floor creaked under her bare foot, freezing her movements.

Holding her breath, her eyes shot to the bed, but Devon had not heard the noise. Taking a shallow breath to steady her nerves, she took another step, willing the floor to allow her a silent escape.

Where had she left her corset? Her eyes searched the darkness, yet saw nothing. For that matter, where were her half boots and reticule? And more importantly—where was her dress? Her fingers slipped around one stocking, pulling it from the bedside table. Where was the other? None of her clothing seemed to be in the room. Last night’s events were a bit blurred by the pounding in her head. She rubbed her forehead in an effort to make sense of her jumbled memories.

Last
evening
we
paused
on
the
landing
of
the
stairs.

***

He’d kissed his way down her neck, his lips lingering on the base of her throat where her pearls encircled it. She arched into his body, the masculine feel of his hands on her more intoxicating than the drinks they had shared. There were too many layers of clothing between them, even with her dress gone. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. Her fingers clutched his dark hair, pulling him closer. It wasn’t enough. She strained against the bounds of her corset with a shallow breath and exhaled on a quiet huff.

He chuckled against her skin, the sound rough and enticing as the deep tone reverberated through her body. “Patience, Lily. I’ll have you free of this contraption in a moment.”

There was a yank on her corset ties, pulling her back toward the edge of the stairs, accompanied by the sound of ripping fabric. He flung the garment away and gathered her to his body. Her hands slid to his chest as she gazed into his stormy blue eyes. His lips descended on hers again, kissing her with growing need.

She slipped the wool coat from his broad shoulders with frantic movements. She could feel his hot, muscled skin beneath his shirtsleeves.
More.
Her hands tangled in the knots of his cravat as their kiss deepened, tongues tasting, demanding. Her fingers skimmed his exposed neck, and she heard an answering growl from deep within his chest.

He lifted her straight up, her toes just touching the edges of the stairs as he carried her. She wound her arms around Devon’s neck, his shirt gently abrading her taut nipples with every step. She wanted something, some indescribable something. All she knew was that he could provide it. His kiss. His skin. His hands. She needed him.

She bit at his lip and he turned in an instant, pressing her against the wall of the stairs. He held her suspended there as he pressed his body against hers. “Lily.” He murmured the name against her lips. “If you keep that up, we will not reach the top of the stairs.”

“Oh, I don’t want us to fall. I only…” She became lost in the thought as she stared at his lips inches from hers. She kissed him again. He ground his hips into hers in a way that made her breathless and flushed.

“It is not the fall that has me concerned,” he said, thrusting his hips into hers once more and watching as she gasped. She wanted to wrap her long legs around him, pull him in, and keep him there. What was he doing to her?

Confusion fell away to sensation as his hands skimmed down the outsides of her breasts, slid over her waist, and drifted down her hips to her bottom, lifting her to him. Only the thin film of her chemise separated his large male hands from her. How did he know what she wanted? He took a few more steps up with her anchored to him, kissing his way up her cheek and into her hair. She returned the favor, kissing the side of his neck before biting at his ear.

In an instant she collided once more with the wall as he slashed his lips across hers in a deep, demanding, ravishing kiss. He pulled back to smile at her. It was a roguish smile, the smile a wolf might give a small rabbit just before dining on bunny ears. “As much as I enjoy these stairs, darling, I would like to see the top of them eventually.”

“I thought you scaled mountains for sport. This is but a little staircase.”

“I scaled mountains for science, and I was not hard as rock for a minx I carried in my arms at the time.”

“Your muscles feel quite pliable to me, not at all like rock.” Her hands skimmed his arms with gentle grasping motions, trying to feel the rock he was speaking of.

He laughed as he began to climb the stairs once more. “You are delightful, Lily Whitby.”

She was confused by his remarks but had no time to consider them for they had reached the second floor of his home and he was kissing her again. They stumbled past a table and she heard something fall. He dropped her onto a settee and bent over her with a bright gleam in his eyes.

“We survived the stairs, perilous journey that it was. We must still venture down the hallway. I promised to show you my gallery. Of course my bedchamber is also down that hallway.”

“The hallway just there?”

“Yes. Where shall I take you, m’lady?” Devon waited, looking deep into her eyes as the question he was truly asking sank into her bones.

This had been a grand adventure that kept lasting just a bit longer, then a bit longer after that bit. Yet it all had led to this moment. She felt her head nod
yes
with a nervous smile before she could think it through further. He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek in response as a smile creased the corners of his eyes. Some emotion lingered there. Was it hope, or longing? Perhaps something else she did not recognize. Before she could analyze it, his head bent.

He kissed her wrist, her shoulder, her collarbone. Moving down her body he suckled her breast through the chemise, nipping at its peak with his teeth. “So beautiful.” His voice rumbled through her body as his hands skimmed her waist and hips.

He pulled at the lace edge of the thin garment with his teeth. She felt the cool air hit her skin as he gathered the chemise around her waist. His fingers slid up the inside of her thigh to come to rest on the apex of her legs.

She took a shallow breath. Their gazes connected, neither daring to look away.

He kissed her gently as his finger slipped into her depths. She clutched his shoulders, wanting more but scared to ask. He coaxed her, his thumb gently rubbing as his finger slid farther into her.

Her thighs fell apart on a moan.
Oh my
. Had she made that sound? She would be embarrassed if he would stop to allow her to think. “Oh Devon,” she said against his lips.

“Yes, Lily. That’s it, Lily. God, I want you, Lily.” He said her name like a prayer in the candlelit hallway.

A maddening tension was building within her. She arched her body into his wicked hand. His fingers worked in ceaseless thrusts. They pulled her asunder into scattered pieces of her former self. She clung to him, anchoring him to her as she splintered apart and collapsed under him.

He smoothed her hair from her face with a reverence that made her melt into the soft settee. The look of promise and compassion in his eyes had held her captivated as he carefully righted her remaining clothing. His fingers had threaded into the laces of her boots as he pulled first one, then the other from her feet with care.

***

She blinked, and the memory slid away like a dew droplet rolling from the petal of a flower. It had been the most marvelous night of her life.

If memories could be trusted, her clothes were not in this room. She grimaced at the delay. Devon turned in his sleep, his hand resting where her hip had been only moments ago. If only things were different. Deciding to abandon her corset to get done what must be done, she turned, searching in the near-dark room for Devon’s discarded clothing.

Spying his waistcoat, her fingers frantically dipped into his pockets and grabbed at the fabric until she found what had brought about this entire incident. Yes, that was it. That was the way she would think about last evening. Incidents could be ignored as if they never happened. No one could ever find out what she’d done. If only she could forget.

Lillian grasped his pocket watch in her fist and breathed a sigh of relief. Running her thumb over its cool surface, she took comfort from the weight of it in her hand—solid, heavy, and hers. A grim smile tugged at her mouth in the darkness. Finally. Now all she needed was to find her dratted clothing and flee.

A grumble sounded from the bed as Devon rolled over in his sleep. She stood watching him for a moment, knowing that with every passing second the sun rose a little higher in the sky and her ability to vanish into the night was becoming more difficult. However, she found it hard to turn away from him.

His coal-black hair curled ever so slightly across his brow, and the strong features she remembered from last night softened with sleep, giving him the face of innocence on a world-hardened body. It was too bad that she would not be able to gaze into his eyes once more. She wanted to solidify the look of storm clouds rolling in over the sea forever in her mind. How she wished she could talk with him once more and make him understand.

Her eyes raked over him, memorizing every muscle, every inch of exposed male skin. The sheet had fallen to show the thin trail of dark hair that led to…well, best not to think about where it led just now. Lillian scolded herself as she turned to leave. Scooping up her chemise from the floor, she slipped it over her head as she took one more step closer to the door, closer to escape.

Last night with Devon would no doubt be her one and only experience with a man. Things should never have gone this far with him, but since they had, she would silently cherish the night they spent together. He would live forever in her memories as she went quietly into spinsterhood. Clutching the pocket watch in her hand, Lillian gazed one last time at where he lay on the bed before closing the door to his bedchamber with a soft click.

This was the beginning of the rest of her life. So why did it cause this tightening of her chest?
What
a
mess
you
are, Lillian
. She shook her head and looked around to gain her bearings in the dark house. Tiptoeing down the hallway, she was keenly aware of her current state of undress and the potential to be discovered by a maid lighting a morning fire.

Rounding a corner, she spotted her half boots beside the settee in an alcove opposite the stairs. Sticking her feet inside them, she paused to right a vase of flowers on a nearby table. Most of the flowers were scattered across the floor, but time could not be taken to tidy all. She compromised her need for order by straightening the paintings knocked askew on her way down the stairs. Grabbing her corset where it lay draped over the banister on the landing, she continued down, spying her dress piled on the third step from the bottom.

She’d managed to gather the dress around her slender frame, with buttons splayed open down her back, and was stuffing her one stocking and the pocket watch into her reticule by the front door when the butler rounded the corner into view.