Her Mystery Duke (8 page)

“Yes, but only if you promise to sleep now.”

He paused and gaped at her as though her hair had suddenly
caught afire. Then he smiled again, lazily this time, distractingly sensual.
“You certainly are a dictatorial little thing.”

He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“No, you should rest. You’re not well enough to—”

He moved across the bed then arose, in all his naked glory.
As he approached, her gaze riveted on his hard, muscled midsection. He didn’t
appear to be all that steady on his feet and yet, paradoxically, there was a
dancer’s grace to the way moved. Once again, she wondered how he maintained his
body in that state of development.

David put his hands on the curve of her waist and he leaned
close. Faint wheezing still sounded in his breathing.

He really was not a well man. Not yet.

He cupped his hand under the fullest part of her breast. She
shouldn’t allow it. He was going to exhaust himself. His thumb brushed over the
nipple. Fierce darts of delight stabbed through her. She closed her eyes and
suppressed a moan.

“We have to get you back into bed,” she said.

 
His other hand swept
over her buttocks. “Yes, I think we should definitely go back to bed.”

 
“And then I must
feed you and afterwards you must sleep.”

He pulled back and cupped her face with one hand. “Must I?”

He gave her one of his slight smiles. It threatened to kill
her self-control.

She stiffened her spine. “Of course you must. You have been
really ill.”

His smile widened into a grin of blinding masculine beauty.
Her heart gave a series of jagged beats.

“I should adore something to eat besides that horrid gruel
you have been shoveling at me.” He ran a hand over his cheek, a brisk roughing
of the stubble that was somehow unbearably carnal. It sent renewed twinges of
need into her belly.

She became aware of her mouth hanging open. “I have some
beef stew.”

“Well, that would be lovely, darling. And then I need to
clean myself up, I think. I don’t suppose you have a razor and shaving soap?”

“I sent out for some.”

“Excellent.” He looked at her then with an intense,
predatory glint.

Again, her heart gave a series of jagged, panicked beats. He
was letting her off. However, if he had been well, he would not have. He would
have pressed his advantage. The most frightening thing about that was she
didn’t know where or how far he would have taken her.

But she did suspect that she wouldn’t have been able to
resist.

Dry-mouthed, she turned away from him. Thank goodness for
something practical to focus on. Feeding him. Helping him to clean up. Of
course it was better for him to eat and shave. The sooner David was
presentable, the sooner his coachman could be sent for, and he would be on his
way to his life. And out of hers.

* * * *

The plain stew of carrots, onions and beef tasted better
than the finest ragout of beef. As David swallowed a third mouthful of salty,
rich broth, blood seemed to surge into his head, clearing the remaining fog
from his thoughts. Apparently, he had been here for days, lost in delirium and
half delirium.

It seemed unreal. He hadn’t been ill since he was a very
small child. Stamina and the ability to push on no matter what were simply
facets of his being. He looked around at the small chamber: cracked plaster,
old furniture, a single window, the outside glass frosted by a heavy coating of
dirt. Where the hell was he? How many days had passed? Why hadn’t he insisted
on sending for his carriage long before this? He must have taken leave of all
his senses.

He had missed the vote.

“You called me Thérèse.”

His blood went to ice and he paused in the act of chewing.
He turned to where she sat across from him at the cheap little table. Sunlight
illuminated her hair into shining gold.

She pinned him with her gaze from the largest, bluest eyes
David had ever seen. “She’s your mistress?”

“In another lifetime, yes, she was.”

Transfixed, he jerked his gaze from hers and looked around
again at several tall stacks of books and papers scattered over the floor
nearby. “You live here alone?”

“Yes, I live alone.” Her voice was soft and so girlish; it
drew his attention back to her. “How old are you, sweeting?”

“I am twenty-one.”

She was a woman, not a girl after all. Thank God for that.
Apparently he had not taken
that
much
leave of his senses.

But he had missed the vote in committee on the bill he’d
introduced to improve the treatment of the insane. The single most important
event he’d worked toward in years. He’d spent the entire hunting season
finessing various members of both the opposition and his own side to see things
his way. He’d promised favors that would take him years to repay. But first the
bill had to get out of committee and into a general vote.

What if the vote in committee had gone the other way today,
just by his own absent voice?

“What is today?”

“Tomorrow is the Lord’s day.”

“How did we come to be together? Truly.”

“You walked into the coffee shop I frequent on Aldgate High
Street and you called me Thérèse. You were out of your head—I am certain they
would have taken you to Bedlam otherwise.”

Despite himself, the image of the Duke of Hartley being
carted off to Bedlam made him chuckle. “And you were afraid for my safety?”

“My father died in one of those places.” She closed her
eyes. “There came a time when I could no longer control him alone and I could
afford no servants.”

Softness and sympathy welled in his chest. He felt his face
contort with it. “My darling girl, I am so sorry.”

She opened her eyes. “It is just what happened.”

Her attempt to smile failed miserably.

A peculiar pressure developed in the center of his chest
that had nothing to do with his improving illness. Tenderness consumed him. She
had taken it upon herself to protect him and brought him here to care for. She
had also denied him the advantages of a physician. But she had cared for him, a
virtual stranger.

“You are a very sweet girl.” He reached across the table and
touched her mouth, running the pad of his thumb over her velvet-soft lower lip.
“And you have a very sweet mouth.”

He allowed himself a slight smile at the memory of those
rose-colored lips wrapped around his erection. She continued staring at him
with those large eyes. She was trying to appear strong. Trying to conceal the
pain he’d seen darken her gaze.

He wanted to give her pleasure. Lavish pleasure. He wanted
to comfort her. He wanted to soften those hard, prickly edges she put between
herself and the world. She was like a brave, spiting kitten lost in the large
city.

The last thought left him shaken. It was the exact truth.

So what did that make him?

A wolf?

“Good God, you’re so very young.” He’d not been with anyone
so young in years.

She raised a brow. “Well, just how old are you?”

“I am thirty-eight.”

“That doesn’t seem so very old.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” she replied with a bland expression.

So, she was used to bedding much older men. He didn’t know
how he felt about that.

“Dare I ask, what street are we on here?” He wanted to take
his mind off the subject of this girl and her other, older men.

“Wentworth Street, Whitechapel.”

He blinked at her. How the devil had he come so far east?
“I’ll see that you are compensated for the trouble you have taken.”

What good would it do to tell the girl who he was? Moreover,
he didn’t want to see that open, sincere gaze harden into greed.

“I don’t need much. But I had to buy the shaving items, the
food, extra firewood—oh, and the landlady will ask for my percentage.”

“Your percentage?”

“Yes, she’ll assume you’ve paid for my time. She expects a
percentage of that.”

“Of course. But I am talking about something far greater
here.”

“I don’t need greater compensation.”

“You’ll be compensated.” He pushed himself up and stood. All
the blood rushed from his head.

“Sit.” Her voice sounded sharp. Panicked.

A reddish black haze appeared before his eyes.

“Now!”

His knees buckled and he veered toward the bed, falling
across it.

“God, what were you thinking?” Her voice rose with a
shriller note of panic this time.

He gazed up at her, confused. He’d always been able to press
through any fatigue. “I must get back to my life.”

“You may send a message for your carriage, first thing
tomorrow morning.”

He opened his mouth to protest. To tell her that he must
send for it right away. He needed to get back to the House of Lords. But
blackness rose up and swallowed him whole.

Chapter Five

David’s face burned pleasantly from the razor. There was
nothing like a clean shave after feeling so beastly. The scent of elderberry
tea wafted up, a faintly nauseating odor. He was thoroughly sick of the
horrid-tasting stuff. He pushed the cup aside, took the bottle of ale, and
poured a generous libation into another cup and took a deep drink. What he
wouldn’t give for a cup of good, strong, plain, black tea.

“Here are the latest newspapers from this week.”

He looked up at Jeanne but without truly seeing her. His
mind was filled with the need to know what had transpired in the House of Lords
in his absence. He all but jerked the papers from her grasp. The second- or
third-hand wrinkled paper bore splatters of tea or coffee or God knew what. He
scanned the headlines. The bill had squeaked by and passed the committee by one
vote.

Relief flooded him and he sat back in the chair, then he
glanced back at Jeanne.

She shrugged out of her pelisse and laid it over a chair.
Beneath, she wore only her nightdress. Morning sun filtered in the dingy little
window. It made her hair glow like gold and shone through the thin fabric, casting
her curvy body in soft light. Small, pale pink nipples strained against the
cloth. Her softly curving waist and luscious hips and thighs were like a
goddess’s.

His gaze traveled back up and focused on her lips. He
recalled how soft and warm they had been on his cock. But he had not yet tasted
them. And suddenly he wanted to, very badly. She was so young, and with her
large eyes, short, button of a nose, and rounded, rosy cheeks, she was very
pretty, in a fresh-faced country-girl kind of way. Quite a change from the
sophisticated courtesans of Mayfair. He quite liked it.

She had so obviously enjoyed sucking his cock. He didn’t
think he’d ever known a woman who had enjoyed it as much. He certainly had
never enjoyed it as much, despite the brevity of the act due to his own
weakness. Well, he wasn’t feeling so weak now. What must she be like to ride?
He couldn’t seem to think of anything else but burying himself cods-deep inside
her.

Yet her very desirability made her wholly unsuitable for the
way he lived. He’d tried keeping a mistress once and it did not mesh well with
his life.

Passionate women were always trouble.

And Jeanne was very, very passionate. Even more so than
Thérèse.

An image of his former mistress’s dark, youthful beauty, and
then the corruption and ruin of that beauty, rose vividly in his mind, cooling
his ardor. He took a deep breath. No, he couldn’t bear another disaster like
Thérèse. He’d never risk it again.

He should leave here directly. He should forget this girl
with the perfect form. He would never have even become involved with her if he
had been in his right mind. He looked down at her and opened his mouth to tell
her farewell.

Her clear, blue gaze met his, full of such hunger that he
caught his breath. Heat entered his blood, filling his cock. He shouldn’t do
anything about it. He ought to just say goodbye and leave. “Jeanne, you know I
am leaving soon.”

* * * *

A cold, heavy weight settled in Jeanne’s chest. But why? It
was best if David went on his way as soon as possible. “Yes, you must leave
soon.”

“I shall never return. There’s no room for you in my life.”
His absolute tone left no doubt he spoke the truth

The weight in her chest pressed harder. “Goodness. What’s
all this about?”

He rubbed her shoulders gently. Just the slightest touch yet
thrills passed through her, stiffening her nipples. “I want to feel your
softness beneath me. I want to put my cock in you.”

“Oh.” The image his words provoked was unbearably beguiling.
Her breathing quickened and heat began to pool deep in her belly.

“At least once. Otherwise, I think I shall go mad wondering
what it would have been like.”

“Yes.” She licked her lips. “I think I would too.”

“Would you really, darling?” Desire vibrated in his deep
tone. No one had ever looked at her like he was staring at her now. As though
he would consume her whole.

A thrill raced through her, making her nipples even tighter.

She nodded slowly.

He frowned. “But you are so young. You seem to be such a
sweet, caring girl. I don’t want to give you the impression we shall have a
grand romance.”

She laughed. “I should think the way you phrased the request
fairly squelched any illusions of romance.”

“I just do not want any misunderstandings.”

That he should worry about a girl like her…None of her other
lovers had troubled themselves too deeply over the matter of her heart. She
scoffed. “Don’t worry. I do not long for any romances cluttering up my life.”

“Well, then.” He caressed her shoulders again. Awkwardness
hung between them.

“David, I don’t expect anything further from you. I don’t
even know who you really are.” She waited. He said nothing. She understood.
They were nothing to each other but temporary lovers. There was no need for any
formal introductions. In fact, it was better this way. She touched his face.
“But I do want this. I want you.”