A Gentleman and a Scoundrel (The Regency Gentlemen Series) (19 page)

He laughed and kissed her nose. “I thought you would never come to your senses.”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Darling idiot.”

“Well you were so enamoured of Miss Thomas and her pillows―”

“Her
what
?”

“It’s what Nicky calls them. He said her bosoms were―”

“What an endless source of profanity that boy is!” marvelled the Duke.

“But why did you choose her, Jasper? She is horrid and catty and looks down her nose at everyone.”

“I did not choose her. She chose me. And after you had turned me down I didn’t much care who I married.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” he said, pulling her close in his arms once again. “Now if you don’t agree to be my wife this instant―”

“Oh yes, Malvern! A thousand times yes!”

Louisa was in a strange room.

She blinked and stared at the ceiling, confused. Was she dreaming? She closed her eyes, opened them again and stared at the ceiling anew. No, it still appeared to be an unfamiliar room, with the solitary crack running north to south across the plaster.

She became aware of three things—a warm tickling sensation against her forehead, a dead weight across her chest and a heartbeat sounding under her ear.

The soft tickling against her forehead, she realised was a regular little puff of air, and it teased the fine, almost invisible hairs on her face. She turned her head, confused and suddenly all became clear.

She was lying on a man’s chest―his bare chest at that―and a face, softened by sleep was inches from hers, the tickling she felt was his breath on her forehead. His dark hair was like ink against her pillow, the heavy pressure across her chest was his arm, flung around her protectively like a harbour wall. The breath caught in her throat.

The Duke of Malvern was in her bedchamber.

She swore under her breath and must have voiced her obscenity aloud as she heard an answering groan from the bed beside her. Was he awake? She couldn’t tell. His eyes were still closed. She felt him move his arm downwards, and settled diagonally across her waist and hips. He sighed and was silent.

She shifted away from him towards the edge of the mattress, forcing his arm to drop away. The new expanse of sheet was cool under her skin and she resented having to move from her warm patch. “Exactly how much of this bed do you want?”

He groaned again.

“Your grace?”

No response.

“
Malvern?
”

He stirred, groaned and finally opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times and stared up at the ceiling.

“Are you awake?” she demanded.

“No.”

“What are you doing in here?”

He yawned loudly, stretched and reached for her, bringing her body back against his. “Sleeping, or at least
trying
to.”

“You’re in my bed,” she pointed out the obvious, a steadying hand against his chest.

His brown eyes held hers. “I’m your husband, where else would I be?”

There was a silence.

“My
husband
?” she repeated. My husband, she said again in her mind, savouring the import of what that meant. “I thought I had dreamed it all. It doesn’t seem real.”

“That’s because you drank too much champagne last night, your grace,” he murmured.

She raised herself up on her elbow to look at him, half laughing. “I did not drink too much champagne.”

“You were flirting outrageously with the landlord of this very respectable inn. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven.”

She laughed and the sheet fell away from her bosom; she was wearing a very indecent negligee. Self-consciously, she pulled the sheet back up again.

“Did you undress me?” she asked with a heightened colour.

“Well, I wasn’t going to let the landlord do it, was I?”

“You mean that you…I mean you…did you really?”

He laughed softly. “Of course I didn’t. I’m not so debauched that I would take advantage of a semi-conscious woman―even if she
is
my wife. Besides, I am saving myself for our wedding night.”

She blushed. “Last night
was
our wedding night.”

“Well
technically
it was, I’ll agree. But I refer you to my previous statement about too much champagne.”

She lowered her eyes. “Who undressed me then?”

“Your maid, silly, who else?” he said, kissing her nose.

“Was I very drunk?”

“Very. I brought you back here―held you in my arms all the way here. It was heaven.”

“Your grace, if you will not be sensible―”

“Then you slept with your head upon my chest and it was all I could do to remember that I was a gentleman―”

“
That
would be a momentous day,” she retorted, laying her head down once more against his bare shoulder, the warm taste of his skin against her lips.

“I am a gentleman, no matter how much I may wish sometimes that I were not. Especially when the woman of my dreams presses herself against me in a
most
familiar way―”

She gasped. “I did not.”

“
Most
familiar,” he reiterated, kissing the top of her head, “the whole of your west wing was pressed against my portico.”

She burst out laughing. “Your
portico
?”

His lips twitched. “Precisely. You see now the gravity of the situation. A man already on the edge of what he could bear has to deal with buttresses in places they have no business being. I rather marvel at my self control.”

“We did not…I mean, you didn’t…?”

“No, although I will admit to being strongly tempted. Spending the night in the arms of the woman I love and not even being able to kiss her was a sore trial indeed. A situation which needs rectifying immediately,” he said and captured her lips with his own for a long delicious moment.

She giggled and rolled off him.

“Where are you going?” he complained.

She smiled and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her nightshift slipping back down her thighs. “I want to look out of the window.”

The room was lit with muted sunshine and she walked towards the window and pulled the drapes apart wide enough for her to see outside. The cathedral spires were silhouetted against the sky, cold and blue and bathed in wintry sunshine. The Duke and his new Duchess were journeying to the coast to begin their tour. She leaned forwards to better see the view, unconsciously silhouetting her body against the window and giving her husband a provocative view of her derrière.

She heard a groan from the bed and turned towards it. “What’s the matter?”

“Come here.”

She dimpled and blushed. “No.”

“Louisa, come here.”

She laughed at the almost desperate note in his voice. “When did you know? That you loved me, I mean?”

“Do we have to do this now?” he complained.

“I want to know.”

“I have needs, you know. And four years of waiting has made me very,
very
needy.”

She blushed and laughed.

“Is that negligee you are almost wearing, for me?” he asked, throwing back the covers and coming to her side.

“It is,” she murmured. “And it is very thin. And the laces at the neck don’t keep it in place. All it needs is for one to catch the hem in something and it slides off my shoulders.”

He raised a brow. “Really? How interesting,” he observed twisting his fist in the skirts of the nightgown and gently tugging.

She dimpled and blushed adorably as the laces popped and the material slid off one shoulder. Her breasts strained against the edge of the fabric for one long tortuous moment and then burst free, her nipples already erect. He groaned and brushed the nightgown down her arms, over the slender curve of her waist and down to the floor, revealing to him that which he had dreamed of. He reached out a hand and touched her waist and sliding it around her back where it cupped her bottom.

“Do you not like my night attire, my lord Duke?” she teased.

“I think you know the answer to that,” he answered as his hand came up to caress the small of her back. He pulled her against him and the shock of her breasts naked against his chest had a profound effect on both of them. Their eyes met, wildly intense and darkened by the knowledge of what would follow.

“Darling Louisa,” he whispered, “do you know what you do to me?”

She smiled and shyly placed her hand against his ribs, the smooth, warm skin flinching at her touch. She trailed her fingers across his flat belly and then followed the dark line of hairs that directed her downwards, exploring his body, claiming every inch of him as hers. She heard him suck in his breath as he realised where her hand was headed and his body tensed in anticipation of the moment when she would find him and take him into her hand.

His lips came down hard on hers then, wanting to give something back to her as she was giving something to him. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth; her nipples grazed his chest, teasing both of them. And as his tongue found hers and entwined in a deeply erotic dance, her curious hand found the hard heat of him and stroked the length from root to tip. He closed his eyes and moaned against her lips as his hand closed over hers, teaching her how to touch him. She took the cue and increased the pressure of her hand, squeezing and pulling him and then driving him wild with a tiny flick to the tip.

He felt a surge of pleasure between his legs and almost came then and there like an inexperienced boy. With a savage laugh, he hastily thrust her hand away from him.

“Darling, stop,” he said raggedly in her ear. “I can’t take any more.”

“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked, concerned she was hurting him.

“No,” he said laughing and groaning. “It’s too damn good―that’s the trouble.”

“I don’t understand.”

“How to explain it? You’re setting the firework off before the…ah… audience has arrived,” he said, looking down at her with tender amusement.

“Oh,” she said, blinking up at him and looking so adorable that he kissed her again.

“And now, wife, it’s your turn.”

She smiled shyly up at him. “My turn?”

He nodded slowly. “Close your eyes.”

She laughed nervously. “Why? What are you going to do to me?”

“Trust me. Close your eyes and let your mind float away.”

She did as she was told and waited for a moment in breathless anticipation for it all to begin. She heard him move behind her and still he made her wait. Then a finger pulled her hair away from her neck and laid it over her shoulder.

“Jasper?” she asked uncertainly.

“Hush. Relax, I’m here.”

He placed his lips against her shoulder, a tiny butterfly kiss that barely touched. And then another and another and slowly, incredibly slowly, his lips traced along the gentle ridge of her shoulder, up to the base of her neck, teasing the fine sensitive hairs as he went, kissing the back of her neck until he found a spot beneath her right ear and felt her body shudder in response to his touch. He smiled and kissed that spot again and again; teasing and tickling until she leaned back against him. His hands came up then gently stroking the skin of her back, her shoulders, and the curve of her bottom. Then his hands slipped around her waist and up towards her breasts. She moved against him, desperate for his touch, but again he made her wait, caressing the planes of her stomach and the valley of her cleavage. Finally his fingers swept around her breasts in slow circles, never straying inwards to the spot where she most craved his touch. By the time his fingers finally came to her nipples, she was on fire for him, desperate for his touch everywhere. His hands cupped the fullness of her breasts, gently squeezing and kneading, grazing her nipples with his palms. He turned her in his arms, dipping his mouth to her breast, and took one hard nipple into his mouth, sucking at it and swirling his tongue around the sensitised tip. She groaned, her breasts tingling with excitement, and she felt hot liquid pooling between her legs.

She smiled as he swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed.

“Are you finally going to seduce me now?” she asked, and her husband did not miss the hopeful note in her voice.

He looked down at her in tender amusement. “That, my Duchess, if you don’t mind me saying so, is a
very
silly question.”