A Captain's Order - A Duke's Command (Hot Regency Read) (Scandalous Series Book 2) (2 page)

Four

London, 1811

Eloise stood in a gilded ballroom in the home of her dearest friend. The surprise celebration marked her return to England and to society. But the crush, intoxicating smells, and the deafening volume of the entertainment overwhelmed her senses.

Although she pasted on a smile, nodded, and spoke at the appropriate times, her heart was no longer in this life. The satins and jewels held no interest. The men in their finely cut suits did not stir her desire nor engender thoughts of futures together.

Nothing.

Only one man sat in her thoughts, and yet, he should not. For had she not left him in Africa? His home. Or so he had told her when he refused to travel the rest of the distance to England to be with her.

Marry her.

“Darling, there is someone who wishes to meet you.” Emma dragged her toward the opposite end of the room. “He's very handsome and just perfect for you.”

Eloise bit back a resigned sigh. She should move on with her life, find a husband to take care of her. Love her, just as she’d planned. “Emma, I do not wish . . . that is to say—” She paused when the gentleman in question came into view. Oh dear, he was handsome if one could ignore the excessively starched shirt collar he sported. Eloise curtsied and allowed Lord Rine to introduce her to Lord Daniel Fenshaw, a baron from Norfolk.

The gentleman looked to be in his early thirties if the smile lines about his eyes were any indication. With an athletic build, he towered over her, and made her modest height seem small and delicate. But something in his eyes gave her pause and tempered her response to his ardent words and charm.

“I understand you have recently arrived back from the colonies. The land, I hear, if one could live without niceties, is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” Eloise said. “Although I didn't venture to the bush, I did see many beautiful sights. The plants and their flowers are unlike any I've known, and the creeks and rivers run with the clearest water I've ever seen.”

“Sounds like you miss it.”

She paused and wondered if such a notion was true. “I was not there long as my brother fell ill only a week or so after arriving. I don’t miss anything of the country other than my brother who is buried there.” Perhaps that wasn’t quite true. The freedom she'd enjoyed there would forever make the strictures of this life fray her patience. Her trip home had been just as wonderful and enjoyable. Not to mention . . . pleasurable.

The captain.

A man whom she watched, awestruck, when he climbed the tall masts and rigging. Steered the pitching ship through choppy waters determined to capture the vessel for itself and submerge it in a watery grave. Only after two months she was pleased to call him her friend and often times her only confidant. She'd hidden her growing lust for him until, unable to stand the situation any longer, she'd taken a chance and seduced him…

The day in their cabin when he’d first made her orgasm, fully clothed and in the middle of the day would be a memory she’d cherish forever.

Eloise snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “The country will forever hold a place in my memories, but I doubt I will see it again. Dreadfully long voyage, you understand.” She smiled as she met Lord Fenshaw’s gaze, hoping her blaze tone would end the conversation.

“Yes, Lady Rine mentioned you travelled back via a merchant ship to Africa, then caught the Oriental from there.” He paused and smiled to a passing acquaintance. “What was the name of the boat you travelled to Africa on, if you recall?”

Eloise frowned, and a tingle of unease prickled her skin. “Ah, I believe the ship was called Esperance, my lord.”

He nodded but said nothing; instead, he looked out over the throng of guests milling around them. Eloise searched for Emma, meaning to slip away and join her, when his lordship turned to her with an intense, probing stare. She shifted her feet, unease creeping down her spine from the awkward silence that settled like a dark cloud over them.

“Six months is a long time for a lady to be at sea. Alone.” The gentleman cleared his throat as if thinking better of what he was about to say. “I was saddened to hear of your brother's death. He was an honourable man.”

Eloise looked down at her drink and blinked, refusing to give way to more tears, a most inappropriate reaction, which came upon her when people spoke of Andrew. “Thank you, my lord. That is very kind.”

“Are you attending the masquerade ball at Lord Durham's on Saturday?”

A smile quirked her lips when she noted Emma making her way across the room to her. “I am. ‘Tis an event I've been told not to miss.”

He smiled in response. “It's an event I would not want you to miss, Lady Eloise.” Holding her gaze, he bowed before taking his leave. Eloise watched him go, and the unease that prickled her skin before now stabbed. She turned to Emma, wondering why his smile had not reached his eyes. Insincere, as if he knew something she did not.

Not yet at least.

Five

“So, dearest, what do you think of Lord Fenshaw? Isn’t he the most fabulous man?”

“Oh, very much so.” Eloise fought the urge to roll her eyes at her friend’s absurd notion. “From memory, his sister came out the same year we did. Has she married?”

Emma's face clouded with sadness, and she wondered at it. “Yes, Miss Fenshaw. A beautiful woman, if not a little flighty and rebellious.”

“There is nothing wrong with a woman wanting independence.” Eloise regretted the sharp edge to her tone as soon as she’d said it. She sighed. “I apologise, I did not mean to snap.”

Emma clasped her arm. “Independence is all very well,  but at what price? I believe Miss Fenshaw paid dearly for hers.”

Eloise met her friend's gaze. “What do you mean?”

They walked toward the supper room and away from the crowded ballroom. “I do not know all the particulars, but what I do know is her brother, unable to control her bizarre and promiscuous behaviour, institutionalised the woman. You see, she kept running away. From what I know, she died three years ago in childbirth at the hospital. Rumour would lead you to believe Miss Fenshaw also tried to harm herself while living there. A terrible sickness the family couldn't cure with love and help.” Emma paused. “Lord Fenshaw loved her dearly and was understandably devastated by the loss of his sister. But the exact, underlying cause of her demise and condition has never been known.”

“How do you know this?” Eloise asked.

Emma leaned in closer to her. “I should not. No one should. Lord Fenshaw's family tried to hush up the fact his sister was a lunatic, but . . . servants do talk.”

“Oh, how dreadful for them all, and poor Miss Fenshaw, she seemed such a lively and popular girl.” Eloise sat at a table for two and welcomed the footman who brought over a fresh glass of champagne. Looking at her friend’s morose visage, she set about changing the subject. “What are you wearing to the Masquerade?”

“I thought I should go as a Venetian courtesan. Bertie wishes to go as himself. Such a bore, don't you agree?”

Eloise laughed. “Not a bore, just being himself, I suppose. I'm not sure what I wish to go as.” She shrugged. “I'll think of something.”

“Well,” Emma said, biting into a crab cake, leaving a little amount of dipping sauce on her chin. “You will want to think fast. The ball of the season is only two days away.”

Eloise motioned to her friend's chin, then laughed when Emma's complexion turned as red as the lobster shell she now held.

Gabriel Lyons, more formally known as, His Grace the Duke of Dale, narrowed his eyes at the buildings and magnificent townhouses gracing his square in Mayfair. For the tenth time that day, he wondered if he should call out to his midshipmen and order them back to the docks. Back to his ship and back to Africa. Return to a home, which, no matter how geographically distant, would always be a more welcoming sight than the one before him. To think, he, the Duke of Dale, chased the skirts of a recalcitrant Lady Eloise Bartholomew hundreds of miles, was an illogical notion. Yet, when his carriage pulled before his stately Georgian mansion, and his door opened, within a moment, he knew such a thing was indeed true.

Fool.

Gabe looked up with loathing at the Corinthian columns gracing his front door and inwardly cursed at his elder brother's inability to stay alive. With heavy feet wanting to drag him back to the docks, he walked up the steps. Always a man to allow his wilder side little-to-no restraint, Gabe despised the fact he needed to pick up the title of duke—and all the obligations and strictures with that title. The mere thought did not sit well with his restless soul.

A soul that yearned for the swell of the ocean, the smooth wood of the ships wheel, and sails billowing with the gift of wind on an endless ocean. Sand beneath his feet with every new and unexplored destination, many of which he had still to venture. And perhaps now, never would.

Gabe sighed. Here he was about to cause one of the biggest upsets in the ton in years with his return and his proposal to a woman who'd tamed his heart.

To a point.

He walked into his library and slumped behind his desk, clean of papers. Gabe made a mental note to thank his steward, who looked after all his estates in his absence. Laying his head back, he stared up at the ornate ceiling depicting cherubs and women, lying on silks, surrounded by fruit and flowers of every kind, and he thought of Eloise.

Their parting had not gone well…

The ship had sailed toward Cape Town, where the mountains behind the city peeked over the waves on the horizon. Gabe handed back the looking glass to Hamish Doherty, his midshipman, aware a part of him wished he could delay their landing. But he could not. The men were restless for the pleasures only land could afford. Women, and the services they provided, food, and a bed that did not sway were paramount in their minds. He could not delay any longer.

His lips quirked when feminine arms came about his waist, followed by a warm, lithe body against his back. Gabe clasped her hands and pulled her tighter against him. “Awake already? Did I not wear you out sufficiently enough last night?”

A chuckle against his back, followed by a kiss, fired blood directly to his groin. “I feel so alive and invigorated. I couldn't possibly sleep a moment longer. Even if the temptation to sleep in your bed is so very great.”

Gabe turned and pulled her against him, allowed his hand to flex the globe of her arse. “Perhaps we should go below decks.”

Eloise's lips took his, and once more, he was lost. Lost at sea in the arms of a woman whose innocence he had seductively taken. He savoured the delectable lips and met her thrust of tongue with his own, pulled away only when she started to rub against him like a purring cat.

“You do realise we are being watched,” he said.

She stilled in his arms and looked over her shoulder. Gabe laughed at the unladylike curse from her lips. It seemed he was a bad influence on her.

“Perhaps it would be best, Captain, if we went below. I do believe I am in further need of your services.”

“Is that an order?” he asked, pulling her toward the stairway, ignoring the catcalls following their every step.

“Yes.”

Gabe stepped off the last step in the corridor below. At the saucy look she threw him, he lost his equanimity. He pushed her against the wooden wall and took her lips in a punishing kiss. Allowed his hard and ready body to undulate against her, brought a whimper to her lips that fuelled his raw need to take her.

Eloise lifted one leg and wrapped it against his hip, her hot core burning him through her breeches. Gabe released a hungry growl and clasped her delicate thigh, cursing her attire and wishing she wore a skirt for easier access. A quicker fuck.

Still, there were other ways around the predicament.

He slipped his hands from her and caught the buttons keeping him at bay. Every one popped and sprinkled to the floor; he ignored her startled gasp and knowing smile and shoved her pants down.

“No undergarments. A woman after my own heart.” His heart thumped as he devoured the delicious, rumpled sight she made— rosy cheeks, eyes glazed, and body bare from the waist down.

“After your heart, Captain? I already own it.”

Gabe met her eyes and took her lips in a searing kiss, welcomed her frantic fingers against his breeches, shivered when she pushed them down his hips and clasped his arse.

She was a wanton. His wanton.

Beyond caring where they were, Gabe lifted her and moaned when his rod slid easily into her wet heat. Eloise's hot core clasped tight about him as he pumped into her, the slap of the waves against the boat and the slap of skin all he could hear.

Her tight passage pulled at him in ways he'd never thought possible. Eloise had a beautiful soul, one he should have left alone, yet she tempted like a siren, a goddess of the sea, and he had not been able to walk away from the fire she ignited in him.

He'd wanted her from the first. And had taken her when the opportunity had arisen, the day Eloise had asked him to make love to her. The memory shot blood to his groin.

Like now, begging for him not to stop, and Gabe, unable to deny her anything, followed her command. The creamy, soft skin smelling of lavender intoxicated his senses.

And he was lost…

She threw back her head and moaned as their bodies continued to mate with a frenzied need. Heedless of their location he pumped into her relentlessly, wanting to feel her body clamp tight about him, quiver up his shaft and pull him into his own orgasmic pleasure.

“Yes. Like that.”

He adjusted his hold to pull her legs higher about his waist. She gasped and he knew she was close. Little mewling sounds puffed out with each expelled breath and then she came. He kissed the scream from her lips, dragged her sensual tongue into his mouth and kissed her until his own release followed. Fuck this woman had him in knots. She held him captive and it suited him more than he’d ever admit.

“Your Grace, dinner is served.”

Gabe opened his eyes with a careless nonchalance he did not feel. Inside, his body burned for her. Needed her, like a Clipper needed water to sail the high seas.

“Thank you.” He watched the elderly retainer, in service since his father's time, hobble from the room. He adjusted his rod, hard and beyond uncomfortable, in his pants and wondered where Eloise was at this moment.

At a ball? Dancing? With another man…

He stood and walked toward the dining room, determined to have a quick bite and some after-dinner entertainment. Entertainment that would include his future bride.