At The Duke's Pleasure Page 16

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Don’t trifle with me, since you know precisely what I mean. What were you doing dancing with Islington again?”

  With a slight shrug, she lowered her gaze. “He asked and I agreed.”

  “Even though it was the third dance?”

  Her pale eyebrows arched high in feigned innocence. “Was it? I must have lost count.”

  He wrapped his hand around her arm and gave her a harmless shake. “You didn’t lose count and neither did anyone else in that ballroom. Everyone is talking and they’ll be doing little else for days to come. By morning, the Society columns will be full of tonight’s escapade, not to mention that it’ll be on the tongues of every tattle monger in London. I know Islington doesn’t give a fig about his reputation, since his is already painted as black as tar. But what about you, Claire? Have you no concern for yourself and what this may do to you?”

  “Don’t you mean what it will do to your reputation, Your Grace? I suspect you are far more outraged over how my behaviour will reflect upon you and your honour than about any possible damage to me. After all, your primary concern must always be to the Byron name and your title as the Duke of Clybourne, is that not so?”

  He grew abruptly still, a deeper hush falling over the already quiet night. “Is that what you believe?” His tone was hauntingly soft.

  “Of course. As for me, I care little for the opinions of strangers. My true friends shall always like me in spite of a…bit of talk.”

  “That is a noble sentiment indeed. However, as I recall, you once told me you dislike being the focus of speculation, and nothing brings on speculation quite so forcefully as flouting Society’s rules.”

  She drew a steadying breath. “Sometimes rules must be broken and sacrifices made in order to achieve one’s aims.”

  What is she on about? he wondered, puzzling over her bold statement. Was there more to her dancing and dining with Islington tonight than careless abandon and a bit of youthful rebellion? He’d been incensed to think that she might be attracted to Islington, even casually. But now he wondered if there was something else at work.

  Taking hold of her other arm, he forced her to retreat a few steps until her back was nearly touching the smooth, cool stone façade of the town house. “What game are you playing, Claire? What is it you want?”

  When she said nothing, he pressed her further, as a new thought occurred. “You aren’t deliberately courting scandal, are you?” Gazing into her eyes, he read the truth. “By God, you are! To what end?”

  Beneath his hands, he felt a fine tremor chase over her skin, yet her expression remained defiant. “For my own ends and it’s no game,” she said. “I told you from the outset that I do not wish to be wed and I have not changed my mind. You ought to have listened to me rather than insisting on this engagement.”

  Edward felt his eyes widen. “Good Lord! I knew you hoped to dissuade me at first, but I thought you’d accepted the inevitability of our union. I see now that you have not. So your plan is to, what, anger and embarrass me to the point where I’ll decide to call off the wedding?”

  She angled her chin at a proud tilt. “If that is what it takes.”

  He stared for several long seconds and then he began to laugh.

  Her mouth tightened, then trembled, her blue eyes glittering as though lit by a fire. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because you obviously don’t know me very well if you think such tactics are going to dissuade me. My siblings embarrass me with regular frequency and in spite of what you may believe about the supposed dignity of my family, we Byrons spend our lives stirring up one pot of scandal broth after another.”

  He paused, chuckling wryly. “You’ve nothing on them, in fact. Jack nearly fled to Italy three years ago for duelling in Green Park. He’d been caught in bed with an earl’s wife, you see, and the earl didn’t much like it. Then two Seasons ago, Cade tried to choke a nobleman to death in the middle of a ball.”

  Her lips parted. “He what?”

  “Of course, the man was a traitor, which Cade knew, but Society cared nothing for the truth at the time.”

  “Good heavens.”

  “Precisely. So you see the futility of your plan?”

  She stiffened beneath his hands. “You speak of futility and inevitability, but I see nothing of the sort. And if you are so inured to scandal, then why are you upset tonight? What does it matter to you how many times I dance with someone else, if you aren’t concerned about your reputation?”

  His humour fell away. “Not someone else. Islington. He’s a cad and you are to stay away from him.”

  “And if I don’t? I’m not a child, you know. I may do as I please.”

  “No, you’re not a child, at least not chronologically. But you’re acting like one with these silly games of yours. They’re not going to work, so you might as well give up.”

  “That’s what you’d like, wouldn’t you? If you knew me better, though, you’d realize I’m not a quitter.”

  “Shall I rename you Doña Quixote, then, since you apparently enjoy tilting at windmills?”

  “Very droll, Your Grace, but since we’re being so forthright this evening, I might as well warn you that this isn’t over. Unless you care to release me from our engagement, that is?”

  In the flickering shadows, he studied her face. Should he let Claire have her way and end their engagement? If she truly didn’t want to marry him, then perhaps he ought to release her from her pledge. But as he considered the idea, something inside him rebelled—and not simply for reasons of familial obligation and practicality.

  Until now, part of him had thought of their engagement in terms of fate, a destiny that had been chosen for each of them when they were too young to refuse. As much as he’d once chafed against the arrangement, he’d come to accept the idea of taking Claire as his wife. But suddenly, as he looked at her now, he realized those reasons were no longer of primary concern to him. It wasn’t any longer a case of having to marry Claire—he wanted to marry Claire. Or maybe the more honest answer was that he desired her and he wasn’t about to let her go—not when she was very nearly his.

  Yet she said she wished to be free, so much so that she was willing to force his hand in front of the entire Ton. He hadn’t realized before what an idealist she was, or what a romantic. He supposed she wanted love, or the fantasy of it, not some reasonable, rational arrangement that made sense in every practicable way. He also knew that her father must have made it impossible for her to cry off herself, so she needed him to do the deed for her.

  But he couldn’t jilt her. If he did, she would be disgraced, conceivably to the point where no other man of good character would have her. What’s more, he had serious doubts that her parents would receive her back with open arms, despite her having obviously convinced herself otherwise. Considering how desperately the earl wanted this marriage to take place, Edward worried that Edgewater might become so angry he would cast Claire out, and then what would become of her?

  No, he thought, Claire Marsden is mine now, whether she wants to be or not.

  Yet to his credit, he knew she wasn’t indifferent to him, in spite of her protestations against their marriage. He’d felt her desire the times he’d held her in his arms. He just needed to encourage that desire and give her a further taste of the pleasure she would find once she came to his bed.

  “Well?” she ventured in a voice made hopeful by his silence. “Will you cry off, Your Grace?”

  He met her gaze, her eyes a pure, bright blue even in the tenebrous light. “No,” he stated in a gruff tone. “And it’s Edward. How many times must I remind you?”

  Then his mouth was on hers, silencing her protest, stealing whatever objections she might claim to have. And it was in this that he knew again he was right, her attraction to him impossible for her to conceal, as she melted instantly beneath his touch. She might decry the notion of marriage, but she clearly approved of his kisses, curling into his embrace with a ready
need that made him smile.

  Dancing her backward a couple more steps, he slid his arms around her and deepened their kiss, leaning her against the stone town house so he could plunder her mouth at his leisure.

  Suddenly she broke their kiss and turned her head away. “St-Stop,” she panted.

  “Why?” Undeterred, he glided his lips over the soft skin of her temple and cheek before delving lower to caress the graceful length of her throat.

  “B-Because you are just tr-trying to distract me.”

  “Am I?” Moving downward, he punctuated each new touch with a kiss.

  “And it won’t s-serve.”

  Reaching her nape, he swirled his tongue across her skin in a sleek circle.

  “Ohhhhhh.” Quivering, she shifted against him with restless limbs. “I—I shall not be dissuaded from my course.”

  “Are you sure?” he murmured, blowing gently against her neck in a way that made her eyelids fall to half-mast.

  “V-Very sure,” she declared, forcing her eyes open again. “There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

  Pausing, he raised his head. “So, it’s to be a battle then, is it?”

  Her breasts rose on a bracing inhalation. “I-If necessary, yes.”

  He met her gaze, their eyes locking in a silent duel. “If you insist,” he said, “then let the games begin.”

  Claire started to reply, but before she could utter even a single syllable, Edward captured her mouth, taking her with a dark hunger that she was helpless to resist. His tongue tangled with her own before roving across the smooth flesh of her inner cheeks in a way that made her gasp with pleasure. Blood thrummed in crazy beats between her temples, her senses spinning in dizzying circles as her mind grew slow and hazy. The garden, the house, even the ballroom full of people faded from her thoughts.

  Only Edward remained.

  Only Edward’s kisses and caresses held any meaning—the intoxicating flavour of his mouth, the heady scent of his skin, the pure heaven of his touch, her sole connection with reality.

  Curving her arms around his neck, she held him tighter, moaning as he intensified their kiss. Needing more, she threaded her fingers into his hair, delighting in the way his thick, silky locks curled against her skin with a tensile grip. Angling her mouth, she kissed him back, striving to match his seductive forays with passionate ones of her own.

  He seemed to approve, his touch growing bolder, his kisses becoming longer, deeper and even more intense. She was floating in a warm sea of bliss when the world suddenly turned hot, his hands gliding over her back and hips before roving farther afield.

  Down went one wide, masculine palm to gently knead the pliant curves of her bottom, while up slid the other to cup one of her breasts, massaging her sensitive flesh with a bold, blatant possession that made her cry out in need.

  Luckily, he was still kissing her, her exaltation muffled inside his open mouth so that she made no more than a small whimper. But inside her head, her response sounded like a shout, her pleasure so strong her skin burned, as though he’d set her ablaze.

  An ache settled between her legs, desire awakening with a strength that left her shaking and needy, all her brave intentions scattered like sere leaves in an autumn wind. He had only to touch her and she turned malleable as clay. He had but to kiss her and she was lost.

  She was even more lost when he unfastened the buttons on her bodice and loosened her stays enough to free the breast he’d been fondling. A brief draft of cool air came as a shock against her bare flesh. Then she was instantly hot again, his palm setting her once more on fire. She couldn’t think at all, as his thumb began circling, his fingers finessing her nipple with a tantalizing stroke that turned her knees weak as wax.

  If not for the grip of his strong arm at her back, she would surely have tumbled to the ground. Instead, he pulled her tighter, fitting their bodies close as he continued his caresses.

  Suddenly he broke their kiss, leaving her bereft. But she had barely a moment to repine, since rather than deserting her, he merely transferred his attentions elsewhere. She gasped as he lowered his head to her breast and replaced his fingers with his mouth.

  The wet warmth of his lips and tongue sent shudders pouring through her, her hand clutching fast in his hair. Rather than trying to push him away, she pulled him closer, instinctively arching her back so he could take more. He smiled against her breast and opened his mouth wider before lapping at her taut nipple with wicked little flicks of his tongue.

  She groaned, her eyes falling closed in ecstasy. Another helpless moan warbled from her throat seconds later when he reached under her skirt to find bare flesh. With agonizing slowness, his fingers trailed up the back of her knee, playing there for long, long moments before roving higher. Along her thigh and around her garter he went, until his hand slid up over the rounded edge of her bottom. Flattening his palm there, he gave a gentle squeeze.

  She startled, then sighed, making him chuckle against her naked breast before he angled his head to suckle even more fiercely upon her. Enthralled, she gave herself completely into his keeping, biting her lip to hold back the moans of pleasure that rose inside her throat.

  Her bodice and stays slid lower as he transferred his attention to her other breast, lavishing her willing flesh with licks and kisses that made her writhe inside his arms. Half insensible, she could do nothing more than cling, her fingers stroking his hair and the back of his neck, silently urging him to do anything he wished as he brought her the most exquisite delight.

  Slowly, he left her breasts, trailing kisses up over her chest and collarbone, along her neck and chin and cheeks. Straightening, he fit her closer against him and plundered her mouth, taking her with another round of long, deep, drugging kisses that once again robbed her of coherent thought.

  Her eyes popped wide, though, when he edged her legs apart with the hand that had been fondling her bottom and slid a single finger deep inside her. She bucked at the novel sensation, her femininity astonishingly wet and aching as he touched her in ways she’d never expected.

  Smothering her cries with voracious kisses, he mimicked the movements of his finger with those of his tongue, both gliding in and out in rhythmic tempos that threatened to undo her completely.

  Just when she thought she’d reached the pinnacle of delight, he began stroking another particularly sensitive area of flesh with his thumb. Blood throbbed in her veins, her heart thundering in her chest as she laboured for breath. Hunger engulfed her as a yearning need spiralled higher and faster within her.

  Up, up she went until suddenly she was flying, the world spinning wildly as she wailed out her bliss against his mouth. He drank down her cries, holding her safe in his arms as rapture filled her from head to toe. Limp, she sagged against him, her body shaking from the force of her release—the first she’d ever had.

  Dazed and astonished, she broke their kiss and leaned her cheek against his neck cloth. Eyes closed, she fought to recover, breathing in the faint scents of fine-milled soap, lemon water and man—Edward’s skin warm, musky and delicious.

  Only then did she notice the state of his body and the thick bulge pressed against her stomach.

  Is that his erection? Of course it must be, she realized, quivering as she waited to see how much further he might take matters.

  Stroking her a last couple of times, he gently withdrew, caressing the back of her bare thigh before letting her skirts fall back into place. She lifted her face and he kissed her again, slowly and tenderly.

  “We’d better stop,” he said, releasing an audible sigh before taking a step back. His hands went to her sagging stays and bodice to slide the garments up over her exposed breasts and bare shoulders. He had her laced and buttoned before she had time to completely gather her thoughts, leaving her to wonder at his level of composure in the face of their overwhelming passion.

  Or was it only her passion—his need no greater than he might have felt for any woman? Did he truly want her or had he only been
dallying with her in order to win an early victory in their battle of wills?

  Quite obviously, he’d stopped before he was satisfied; his erection was proof of that. Was he planning to slake his needs with another woman later tonight? With Felicia Bettis perhaps? Had they already arranged an assignation, and once he’d delivered Claire back to the town house, he would sneak out again to meet his mistress?

  Her stomach gave an oily lurch at the thought, her hot skin cooling instantly. “I—I should go back,” she said, wanting suddenly to be away from him.

  “It isn’t necessary, you know. It’s late. I can call for the carriage.”

  “Everyone will be wondering,” she whispered.

  “Let them wonder.” Drawing her into the lantern’s gleam, Edward studied her face. “Let’s go home, Claire, to our home, where you belong.”

  She paused for a long moment before raising her eyes to his. “But I don’t belong and this…interlude…we just shared changes nothing. You may be able to seduce me, but it doesn’t mean I’m any more willing to be your wife.”

  His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing blue fire. “Oh, you’ll be my wife, mark my words on that. Personally, I prefer making love, but if it’s war you really want, then be my guest. Just know that, despite my gentlemanly exterior, I fight dirty. You can rebel all you want, but it will make no difference in the end. You’re mine and you’re not getting away.”

  I’m his, am I?

  His possession, he means. His chattel, she thought, her heart sinking, even as it hardened again with silent resolve. For no matter how much she adored him or how deeply he’d pleasured her tonight, she wouldn’t be used and maneuvered like a pawn on a chessboard. He’d called this a game, and to him it was. But to her it meant her whole life.

  Her chest tightened at the prospect of returning to the ball and pretending everything was fine, but she refused to be cowed. She would not bend—either to Society dictates or to Edward’s.

  Stepping away from him, she smoothed a hand over her hair to check for stray wisps. “How do I look?” she asked with a determined tilt of her chin.