Duke Ever After (Dukes' Club Book 5) (2 page)

Bloody hell, but she was a stunner.

And while he had agreed to give her time to get out of the loch, even from this distance, he couldn't miss her perfect, pale body emerge from the waves.

She ran up the pebbled shore, causing her bum to bounce delightfully. My God, he’d love to cup those rounds in his hands.

A wiser man would have swum in the other direction given her interesting discourse, for she had been neither a siren tempting him to sin nor a chaste saint castigating him for his devilry. Truth be told, she’d taken their whole meeting in stride as if coming upon naked men in the loch was a daily occurrence. Yes. There it was again. She found him to be
trivial
. Someone not to be overly bothered about.

Yes. She was odd. It was the only explanation for her strange behavior. Odd was good. Odd was bloody marvelous. In fact, he found himself suddenly longing to expose just how odd he was to her so that he might finally feel as though he wasn’t quite so alone. Impossible, of course, but he couldn’t deny the temptation.

Temptation wasn’t something he usually resisted.

He liked women. He always had. All kinds of women and, so over the years, he’d become a bit of a connoisseur but, at present, he was having a damnable time putting his finger on just what sort of young woman had come across his path this day.

She crouched down to a bundle on the rocks and whipped a long, billowing gown over her head, shoved her feet into some shoes, then wrapped a long tartan about her body.

Could she be a peasant? He’d dismissed it earlier, but from her shabby dress was it possible? Not on his life. So, what then did her simple clothes say?

A woman down on her luck? Perfect. He’d make himself useful in more ways than one.

Feeling buoyed by this thought, he started for the shore now that she was clothed.

As he took his first steps onto the pebbles, he didn’t miss that her eyes had turned into twin rounds of amazement as she swept her gaze up and down his form.

He reveled in it. Finally, something about him had impressed her.

Her white cheeks bloomed crimson as her gaze rested on his cock.

He liked his cock and he wasn’t at all ashamed of it. Now, it did suddenly occur to him that if she was a young lady of a certain sort of birth, a man emerging from the waves completely naked might be a bit of a shock. Still, it was too late to go back now and, really, the sooner she got used to the sight of him naked, the sooner he could please her until all her wits had melted with mutual bliss.

“You’re not exactly modest, are you?” she asked, her gaze still locked on his groin.

He laughed. “No. Should I be?”

“If you must know, I don’t have enough knowledge to make any sort of comparison. So, I can’t. . . I can’t tell you if your confidence is warranted. But you do seem. . . Seem. . .”

“Yes?” he prompted.

She swallowed and dragged her gaze up to his eyes. “To be exceptional.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Now, don’t get all fluffed up like a cock in the hen house. It’s an observation, not a compliment.”

“You don’t like it then?” he asked.

She opened her mouth, apparently to give him some sort of blistering set down but then she stopped and allowed her gaze to lower again. “Intellectually, I’ve no idea if I should like it or not. If you must know.”

He laughed again. In all his life, and in all the conversations he’d had, none had gone quite like this. “Intellectually? How about physically?”

She pursed her lips in contemplation. “You’re causing a reaction I’ve never experienced.”

“Am I, indeed? A pleasant one? Or a horror-struck one?”

“A most strange one.” She frowned, her chest noticeably rising and falling in quick breaths.

She did find him attractive. Whatever else, the primitive part of her was moved by his presence.

“Aren’t you cold?” she burst out, as if desperate to distract herself.

“With your eyes on me? How could I be?”

“I don’t think I understand that and as fascinating as all this is, I’m not sure this conversation is a good idea.”

“And why is that?”

“Because this is not a dramatic novel. I am not about to let some strange man ruin me in December, on a shore. I have standards.”

He gaped. “You’re not opposed to ruination then? Just these circumstances.”

She snapped her mouth shut and folded her arms under her breasts. The action, given his years of experience, should not have been distracting. It was. In fact, he felt about fifteen again, desperately wishing to see his first nude woman.

Luckily, he wasn’t behaving quite as moronically as he had then. But still. . . He couldn’t ignore the way his heart was pounding against his ribs or the way he longed to simply just stride up towards her, take her in his arms, and wrap them both in that tartan of hers. My God, he wanted to claim her.

No reason. No thought. No explanation. He wanted to take her mouth with his and make her forget any thought she’d ever had before she set eyes upon him. It was a ridiculously primitive thing to think and one entirely outside his character.

He forced himself to draw a breath.

“I should apologize for being so forward, I suppose,” he finally said.  

With every moment that passed, despite her behavior, it was becoming absolutely clear that she was completely inexperienced when it came to men. Or at least sexual interactions with men. If she was a virgin, a strange virgin, but a virgin no less, as he was now almost certain of, he was on dangerous ground.

He hadn’t pursued her strictly out of lust. Not at all. The feeling that had provoked him to follow her across the loch was indescribable. Even so, he’d quickly acknowledged to himself that he wanted to make love to her.

He didn’t make love to or ruin virgins, however. He never had and he never would. The one time there had been a virgin in his bed, it had been him. Even so, there was no way in hell that he was going to be responsible for some young woman’s awakening. Especially in a society that deemed a woman valueless once her virginity was gone if she was unmarried. It was damned unfair to women.

“Are you going to apologize then or just keep looking as if you’ve been brained?”

“No apology.”

“If you were a gentleman, you would.”

“Ah. But I’m far more than a gentleman and we special fellows hardly apologize.”

Her defiance faded a bit and a look of dismay softened her features. “Och, no. Say it isn’t so?”

“Say what isn’t so?” He frowned. The droplets of water on his body were turning frosty. “And yes, now I’m a bit cold. My clothes are further down the way on Lady—“

“Lady Cavendish’s property.”

“Yes. How did you. . . Ah. My accent, being decidedly English has given me away.”

She shook her head. “I should have known straight away you were one of them.”

“What
one of them
is that?”

“A Sassenach,” she said sadly. “Worse, from the timbre of your voice, a titled Sassenach.”

“Oh,” he admitted, “it gets worse than that, dear girl. Far worse.” 

“It can’t possibly.”

“Oh, but it can,” he countered. There was something delicious about needling her. She clearly didn’t like the idea of having been so friendly with a titled Englishman. He knew that, in general, his sort was loathed up here, but he was determined to prove he was not like the rest of his lot.

“How?” she groaned.

“I’m a duke.”

She gasped. “And you dare talk to me like this with your wife not two miles hence?”

“Good lady, I would never do something as stupid as wed. I am a bachelor.”

“You’re not married? I thought the dukes visiting had wives!”

“Two of the dukes are married.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose that’s another blanket on the ground?”

He waggled his brows at her, unable to help himself from teasing her now that she’d gone all full of indignation. “Or would you mind sharing yours?”

“Bloody cheek!”

He gasped in horror. “Bloody language, young miss.”

“I am no’ a miss.”

“I gathered you weren’t a peasant.”

A slow, wicked smile tilted her lips as she bent and picked up the other thick, folded tartan of red, gold, and black upon the ground and tossed it at him. Clearly, she was enjoying what she was about to say.

“It’s far worse,” she lilted.

He grinned, enjoying the encounter more and more. So, he couldn’t ruin her. At least they could enjoy a lively exchange. “Shock me then. How so?”

“I’m a lady.”

“Father an earl or something?” he asked lightly as he grabbed the tartan. It was thick, dry, and huge. So huge, a man might feel he was drowning in it. What the devil was he supposed to do with it? He’d seen kilts. . . But. . .

“No,” she said, a dangerously pleased note to the word.

“Don’t say you’re married? Or do, because then I will have no foibles in divesting you of your-“

“My brother is the Duke of Blackburn.”

The Duke of Blackburn
?

The teasing words died on his lips and he wrapped the tartan about his waist so fast that he felt his life depended on it. Most likely because if Blackburn suddenly spotted them, his life
would
depend on it. “Good day to you then.” 

And without another word, he whipped around and charged along the shoreline. As fast and as far away from his own imminent ruination as his bare feet would allow him.

Chapter 2

Lady Rosamund, only sister of the Duke of Blackburn, stared at the retreating form of the audacious duke and wondered if fate was smacking her upside the head with a solution. For months she’d been lonely, discontent, and chomping at the bit to do something with her safe but monotonous life.

Anything
.

Oh, she loved the Highlands. She loved her home. She loved her brother.

But the unchanging landscape had begun to wear upon her as a giant stone, slowly smoothing away any distinct edges she might have, until she’d fit within the familiar settings of everyday life.

A young lady who knew that, eventually, a season in Edinburgh would occur, would just let the duke hie off. After all, he was clearly a blackguard. But by God, he was a fascinating blackguard.

And he wasn’t the sort of blackguard to do her any real damage.

Of that, she’d known right away.

But why had he suddenly bolted when learning who she was?

“Excuse me!” she called as she clutched her tartan about her.

He didn’t turn. In fact, all massive six feet and several unclothed inches of him kept up his quick, striding pace.

She’d been the faster swimmer, but she had a feeling there wasn’t a chance she’d be able to keep up with him on land if he was determined to outpace her. But she’d been born the stubborn sort.

As she half ran along over the heather-edged terrain, she eyed him.

His dark hair, not quite black, was too long for society’s taste. It looked like a barber or manservant had never quite been able to tame it. It brushed his beautifully broad shoulders in slightly curled swathes.

Apparently, so compelled to get away from her was he, that he’d only wrapped the tartan about his waist, leaving the rest of him exposed.

“You mustn’t die of exposure!” she shouted.

Really, she wouldn’t mind entirely if he dropped the tartan altogether. Looking freely upon his magnificent person had been quite an education. It’s true, she’d told him no when he’d first declared what he’d liked to do with her. What else was she supposed to say? But it hadn’t been out of a lack of interest. It had been out of a lifetime of doing the right thing.

“Go home!” he bellowed without looking back.

“But I thought you wanted to have your way with me!”

At that, he stopped, his entire stance rigid, ensuring the musculature of his back, shoulders, arms, and covered buttocks were beautifully enhanced.

She longed to trace her fingertips along every defined bit of sinew. Maybe she’d lean forward and take a wee nibble. . .

The duke turned, his face surprisingly stony given how blithe he’d been during their entire earlier encounter.

“Lady. . . Lady. . . “

“Lady Rosamund,” she supplied, batting her lashes.

“Lady Rosamund. I did and do want to have my way with you. There is no point in denying it. But I want to live a long life as well. That wish supersedes my desire to—“

“Ensure I am most enthusiastic about the affair or persuade me towards such enthusiasm?”

A muscle ticked in his beautifully-shaped jaw as though his patience had suddenly abandoned him. “Yes. I’ve had the good fortune to meet your brother. He’s a good fellow and strikes me as the serious type. I’ve no wish to kill him over pistols or swords because I don’t doubt he’s the sort of fellow to call one out at dawn for having one’s way with his sister.”

Her lips twitched with amusement. He had her brother exactly. “That’s the only reason then?” she asked, amazed at her own boldness. “I assure you, my brother is quite capable of defending himself, though I should hate to see you marred by blade or lead ball.”

“While I thank you for your concern, I can assure
you,
that I am better than your brother in all things martial.“

“So, just fire your pistol in the air or some such thing. Isn’t that what men of honor do after all?”

His brows drew together. “Two things Lady Ros. I am not a man of honor. I’m perfectly willing to shoot a fellow in the back, you see. Further, are you begging me to bed you because this is what this conversation is beginning to sound like?”

She jerked her chin up. “Now just a moment.”

“Why else are you so determined to pursue me? Asking such things?”

“Because I think you’re interesting.”

He stared at her for a long moment then groaned. “This is terrible.”

“How so?”

“I find you interesting as well.”

“That’s so very terrible?”

“It wasn’t until I decided you were a virgin and the sister of Blackburn.”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked, genuinely curious. Did she give off some sort of signal? Did all virgins? “That I’m a. . .” She’d never said the word aloud. “Virgin?”