A Duchess in Name Page 20

  But their agreement was too fragile for such a casual intimacy. He had only provisional permission to approach her. Perhaps in time...

  He hovered by the door, listening to the rustling of cloth as her maid sorted the dress, now mercifully off her body. Victoria’s low voice, muffled by the door, finally sent Molly away.

  Quietly, he eased the door open. She was seated at her vanity in her nightgown and robe, pale arms raised as she worked at taking down her hair. Bit by bit, it loosened and fell, a great, glimmering heavy curtain of gold around her shoulders. His fingers twitched. Good Lord, he wanted to touch that hair. Why not? Maybe it was time to start forging some small intimacies.

  Moving silently into the room, he waited until he was nearly behind her before he spoke.

  “May I?”

  She gasped in surprise, her eyes shooting up to find his in the mirror. She wordlessly handed her silver hairbrush back to him. He began to draw it through her thick hair in long, slow strokes. As he raked his hands through her hair, he made sure to brush against her temples, her earlobes, the nape of her neck, delighting in the goose bumps he raised across her shoulders and chest. His eyes fell to the swell of her breasts behind the gauzy film of her nightgown. How far did those goose bumps descend? Could he raise them again by touching her lower?

  When her hair hung in rippling waves down her back, he set the brush down and curled his hands around her shoulders. Victoria tensed under his hands. Instead of pulling her roughly to her feet, he rubbed her shoulders, digging his thumbs in gently at the base of her neck. She hung on to her tension for an age, as if afraid to relax for even a moment in his presence. He persisted, dragging his fingertips over the curves of her shoulders, into the hollows behind her collarbones, up her neck and across her nape, over and over.

  He’d gathered up the mass of her hair, laying it across her left shoulder, baring her right, and was lowering his head to kiss the curve where her neck became her shoulder, when she surged to her feet. The movement was so quick, he had to stumble back to avoid being struck in the face.

  She strode over to the edge of the bed and turned to face him, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  “I believe this is the appropriate location for our business.”

  He chuckled as he crossed the room to join her. So it was going to be like that, was it? Very well. He could take his time. Slow and steady could be just as pleasurable.

  “Yes, the bed is a good spot. But not terribly inventive.”

  She dropped her eyes to the carpet and inhaled deeply. “We don’t need to be inventive, only efficient.”

  He took another step forward into her space, ducking his head so when he spoke, she could feel the words on her neck as well as hear them.

  “Oh, but one misses out on so much fun if one is only efficient. For instance, pressing you against the willow tree by the pond, raising your skirts, wrapping your legs around my hips and taking you against the trunk isn’t exactly efficient. But I can promise you it would be pleasurable. Did you know I was imagining doing that to you when we were walking around the lake with the girls last week?”

  Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took, but she made no reply. He reached up and drew a finger down the side of her neck, now warmed by his breath. Goose bumps broke out across her skin and she sucked in a breath.

  Sliding his hand under her hair, behind her neck, he tilted her face up. His lips were almost on hers when she turned her face to the side.

  “Please don’t.”

  “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

  “It’s not necessary for what I want.”

  He shrugged. “All right. No kissing. On your mouth.”

  She began to protest the caveat but he kissed his way down her neck, dragging his tongue across her skin, scraping lightly with his teeth now and then. She didn’t soften, but neither did she stop him. When he reached the hollow at the base of her throat and took his time exploring it with his tongue, she finally moved.

  She reached for the belt of his robe. “Let’s get on with this. I’m tired.”

  He gripped her hands to stop her. “Not yet.”

  “But...”

  He met her eyes, not letting her look down at the carpet or up at the ceiling. “We go at my speed.”

  She made an annoyed sound in her throat, so he dipped his head again, kissing a line down her chest, to the valley between her breasts.

  “Bastard,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  “I’ve been called a bastard my whole life, darling. It won’t bother me now.” Cupping her breasts in his palms, he kissed the swell of each one, and made a point of dragging his thumbs over her nipples as he released them.

  She made no further protest, so he took it as acquiescence, untying her robe, letting it slide back off her shoulders and to the floor. Now she wore only her thin silk nightgown. He could see the shadow of her shape underneath it, and the points of her nipples, their hardness pressing against the fabric.

  Shrugging out of his robe, he tossed it back behind him, then bent and swept her up into his arms, all lush, long limbs and delicious warmth. He laid her down on the soft blue coverlet and straightened up, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it to the floor. She attempted to look away, first at the canopy over her bed, then at the heavily carved headboard, but eventually, as if drawn against her will, her eyes came back to him, watching as he undressed. His fingers could barely manage the fly on his trousers. Her gaze dipped down, following his fumbling hands. It made his cock harden painfully, almost as if it were her fingers trailing over his heated flesh and not her reluctant gaze.

  Lowering himself over her, he propped himself on one elbow. He let his free hand roam down her body, starting innocently with her arm and shoulder, skimming down her side, wrapping over the curve of her hip, smoothing down her thigh.

  “Can’t you just do it?” she whispered.

  “I will. I promise you. But if you want me, Victoria, we do this my way.”

  Her head dropped back and she closed her eyes tightly. She was so determined not to give in. That was fine. She would fail, and when she did, he’d make sure she was lost in the pleasure that failure would bring.

  He tugged gently on her leg, enough to pull her thighs open and give himself room between them, before running his hand back up her body, taking a much less innocent route. He brushed the crease of her thigh, only inches from her sex, delighting in the catch in her breath. He kissed her cheek, her ear, her neck, anything she’d not declared off-limits, as his hand continued up and palmed her breast. Her nipple was a taut little pebble under his thumb. With a delectable moan, she arched slightly underneath him. His cock throbbed in response.

  Finding the scarlet satin ribbon holding her nightgown closed, he tugged to release it. In a flash, her hand came up to cover his.

  “Must you? Can’t I leave it on?”

  Her eyebrows were furrowed over her fear-filled eyes. He looked away, his gaze traveling down her body as his hand did, caressing her as he went. “All right, as you wish.”

  As if a thin covering of silk would make any difference at all. She relaxed slightly, which lasted until he bent and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard through the fabric. Her gasp of shock dissolved into a tiny, involuntary sigh of pleasure. He stroked his tongue across her, letting the wet drag of the fabric heighten the sensation. She moaned.

  His cock was pressed against the juncture of her thighs, so close to being sheathed in her, but her nightgown still lay between them. He left it there, rocking against her, closer with each thrust. Close but not close enough. His cock slid easily against her, dragging the whisper of silk through her sex each time. She moaned again, and her hips shifted slightly against his.

  “Still want to leave it on?”

  The only sound she
made was a whimper. With one hand, he gathered the diaphanous fabric up, dragging it up her thighs and over her hips.

  He settled over her again, but he didn’t slide himself between her legs yet. She had a great deal more pleasure to experience before this encounter was finished.

  When he slipped a hand between her legs, almost immediately, her thighs clamped closed around him. Opening his hand, he turned it until his palm could curl around the inside of her thigh. Such perfect skin. He stroked her gently, his palm scraping up and down the soft skin of her inner thigh, over and over, until her legs relaxed and he could reach what he sought.

  “Ohh.” Her breath left her in a gust as his fingers found the apex of her sex. What a glorious thing, to watch her face relax with pleasure despite her attempts to resist it.

  He took his time, driving her until her head was thrashing on the pillow and her hands were fisting in the sheets. Once again, he took her breast in his mouth, still covered with the damp silk of her nightgown. She gasped, arching up from the bed, and then she was falling apart in his arms, trembling all over as she splintered. She was stunning in her ecstasy, all golden abandon and silken, heated skin. Pressing his lips to her cheek and neck, he held her tightly as she came down from her climax.

  Her breath hitched and when she spoke, her voice was shaking. “That wasn’t necessary. Please get on with it.”

  “It was necessary to me,” he whispered in her ear as he shifted into position over her. “God, I love watching you come.”

  Her eyes flew wide at his words, and she might have said something in reply, but at that moment, he drove into her hard. He held himself still above her, their faces only an inch apart, her lush mouth right there beneath him. When he would have leaned down to kiss her, she turned her face away again. So he contented himself with the parts of her body she’d allow him. And what glorious parts they were.

  Lifting up to his elbows, he set up a slow, steady pace. Her hands curled into his shoulders, her nails cutting slightly into his skin. He reveled in it, the gentle edge of pain grounding him as he nearly lost his mind with pleasure. His release was bearing down hard on him already, but he gritted his teeth and held it off. Not without her. He’d take her over this edge with him if it killed him. He’d make her his partner in this even if she refused him everything else.

  Sliding one arm under her knee, he hiked her leg higher, opening her further to his assault. His hips drove into her as he buried his face in her neck, kissing, licking, biting any bit of her he could reach. She cried out once more, shaking underneath him, her thighs trembling and her body gripping him. Her release spurred his own. He couldn’t have held it back longer if he tried. It exploded over him, a pleasure so acute his back arched and his throat closed up.

  Their breathing was labored and sweat sheened their bodies as he collapsed down on her, finding her face with one hand, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. When he could lift his head again, he found her eyes with his. She met his gaze for only a second before turning her face away, biting on her lip and closing her eyes.

  Slowly he eased off her and rolled to his back. When he tried to tuck her against his side, she went rigid and pushed him away.

  “Please don’t stay,” she whispered.

  This time, leaving her bed felt like the worst thing he could be called on to do. But he did it, slowly dragging himself to his feet and shrugging back into his clothes. She pulled the covers over her body and refused to even glance at him as he dressed.

  They’d made their deal and the terms were hers to set. But inside those rules? He would take ruthless advantage of every opportunity open to him. This was only the first battle in a protracted war, and he would withdraw now to fight again another day.

  When he reached the door to his room, he paused and looked back at her, a slight shape under her sky blue coverlet, her gold hair spilling across the pillow. “Sleep well, Victoria. I’ll see you in the morning.” It was his promise to her. When the sun rose, he’d still be here. Maybe after enough sunrises, she might believe it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Victoria awoke the next morning, her body remembered what had happened before she did. She ached slightly, and her skin was overly sensitive. Even the sheets rubbing against her limbs stirred her awareness. For one blissful moment, she enjoyed it. Then her mind caught up and she remembered the rest, the way he’d controlled her and their encounter.

  That wasn’t at all what she’d intended and he knew it. Why had he insisted on seducing her that way? She wasn’t well-versed in the ins and outs of male anatomy, but she was fairly sure his organ worked without bringing her to climax with his hand first. He’d done that part just because he’d wanted to. He’d told her so, whispering those words in her ear while she was still vibrating with pleasure.

  “I love watching you come.”

  Her face flamed remembering it. And her traitorous body responded, too, although not exactly with embarrassment.

  She could not let him in. He was untrustworthy, and had broken her too many times already. She wasn’t giving him any more chances to do it again. He could do what he liked with her body, if that’s the way it had to be. He would not gain access to her heart through it.

  When she turned her head on the pillow, something crunched under her hair. Picking through the tangled strands, she found an envelope with her name scrawled in familiar handwriting. She’d seen it on an envelope once before, the morning after her wedding, when he’d abandoned her here.

  Dread pooled in her stomach. Dread and resignation. Hadn’t she known? This was what he did. He showed up, took what he wanted from her, and fled. It was a good thing all he got this time was her physical release.

  Sighing, she shoved herself to a sitting position. What would the excuse be this time? He’d better at least have had the decency to say goodbye to his sisters himself. If he left her to break the news to them, she’d never forgive him. She unfolded the note and read it. And then she read it again, still not understanding the contents. A third reading didn’t help.

  Dear Victoria,

  I’ll never forget the first time I became fascinated with the ancient world. I was at Eton, spending a school holiday in the library because my family didn’t want me at home. I found a book about Napoleon’s expedition in Egypt. Did you know he brought a team of archaeologists with him? He did, and they documented everything they saw in a tremendous book of etchings. There were depictions of the great pyramids and obelisks and the Sphinx, but I think I was most taken with the copies they made of the hieroglyphs on the tomb walls. It was a language no one on earth could speak anymore, and I stared at those symbols for hours, wondering what they said. Were they an ode to a king? An account of a great battle? A love poem? Something like that would take a lifetime to puzzle out. And that’s when I knew what I wanted to do with myself. I’m a man who will take a lifetime to solve a puzzle if I think what might be gained in the end is worth it.

  Yours,

  Andrew

  * * *

  She found him in the study, looking over the plans for a new hay barn Mr. March had left the day before.

  “Good morning, Victoria,” he said as she came in. “Did you see these? March thinks we should build the hay barn on the hill behind Short Meadow, but what do you think of this spot over by the orchard? It’s sunnier and will stay drier—”

  “What’s this?” She waved his note in his face.

  Andrew straightened up and smiled at her. “Did you like it?”

  “I don’t understand it. What does it mean?”

  “I was telling you how I found my way into archaeology.”

  She closed her eyes in frustration. “But why?”

  “I wanted you to know.”

  “Yes, but—”

  He cut her off, leaning in close to her and folding his hand over hers where
it clutched the note. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but all that time you were sending me those letters in Italy, I was slowly getting to know you, how you think and how you feel. I’m attempting to do the same for you now.”

  She snatched her hand out from underneath his, leaving him holding his bloody note. “That’s unnecessary. We don’t have to know each other any better than we already do for our purposes.”

  “We don’t have to, but I want to.”

  “Well, I don’t.” Her voice trembled with frustration. How dare he force this kind of intimacy on her now, after all this time? It wasn’t fair.

  He picked up her hand, and gently pressed the note into her palm, curling her fingers over it. “You don’t have to read them, Victoria, but I hope you will.” He leaned in to whisper the next part in her ear. “I didn’t have to read yours. But I’m so very glad I did.”

  He began to draw back, which was good because it was so hard to keep her wits straight when he did that—the leaning in and whispering in her ear business. But before he withdrew fully, he paused and kissed her cheek.

  “That wasn’t on your lips,” he said, when she scowled at him.

  “It’s also not in the bedroom.”

  “You didn’t make a rule about that. I think I hear the girls coming down for breakfast. Shall we join them?”

  He brushed past her, leaving her gaping at the note in her hand. And she’d have never confessed it to him, but later in the afternoon, she took a book on Egyptian hieroglyphs from the library and hid in her room for an hour examining it.

  Dear Victoria,

  I was six years old when I learned I was illegitimate. My parents were fighting again, which was not unusual. I was supposed to be in bed, but I wanted a drink of water and I couldn’t find the nursery maid. It turned out she’d snuck out to meet her lover. At least someone enjoyed that evening.