Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (21 page)

“Are you complaining because I can’t take advantage of you?”

No, she was complaining because he wouldn’t. Because no man would. Why else would he tell such a lame fib about his injury?

“Katherine, I’m a man. I’m human. I wouldn’t be either if I didn’t want you.”

“Then you must be the only man—and human—on the face of the earth.”

There was a long pause before he said, “Perhaps that means I’m the only man for you.”

Skepticism rippled through her. “You can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Do you expect me to believe the only reason I’m still a spinster at the decrepit, old age of twenty-eight is because there can only be one man for me, and I never found him until just a few days ago?”

“That could very well be the reason. Why don’t you believe it?”

“Do you? Surely you don’t think I could be the only woman for you? You, the Duke of Loring, now Britain’s most eligible bachelor, who can have his pick of eligible ladies…as long as they’re all gathered at a ball.”

Silence. Long, ominous, frosty-cold silence.

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered. “Good night.”

“Maybe there’s someone else,” he said. “Someone in London, who’s waiting to find the only woman for him, and that woman happens to be you.”

“But why, after so many years? Why, when most women I know are married well before they get to be my age?”

“Who knows why. But I think it’s important for you to know that while I do want you, I don’t want to take advantage of you. There’s a difference. If there’s someone else out there for you, I don’t want to ruin you for that person.”

“On the other hand, if you were that person…”

“Then it wouldn’t matter. But I don’t know if I’m that person. And you just said you don’t believe I am.”

“Because if you compromised me, you’d have to marry me, wouldn’t you?”

“Others might argue you’ve already been compromised.”

But not Nathan, and thus far a marriage offer was not forthcoming.

“At my age, I really don’t think I’ll ever get married,” she said. “And I certainly don’t expect you to offer for me, and not just because it’s the honorable thing. I want to be loved.”

He sighed heavily. “As I said before, we all want to marry for love. But most people don’t marry for love. They marry for convenience. For position. For money. Or in the case of Mr. Driscoll, because his wife is such a buxom beauty. But no one I know ever marries for love. Who do you know?”

She pondered. “My brother and his wife married for love. So did her two brothers. I thought my parents had married for love, but it turned out my father was unfaithful to my mother. He died in the bed of another woman.”

“Hm, no wonder you were so distraught by what you heard next door this evening.”

“That’s not why I was distraught. I honestly thought he was hurting her.”

“He probably was.”

“Well? Then what was I to do? How could I ignore it, the way everyone else was? She truly sounded as if she was suffering.”

“And she would probably agree with you, but as I explained to you before, her suffering, such as it was, was only temporary, and partly the result of not being prepared for what would happen. That, and Driscoll knows nothing about arousing and pleasing a woman.”

Kate felt a strange but pleasurable quiver below her belly as he said those last words.

For a long moment she stared wide-eyed into the darkness, ruminating, and then she licked her lips, took a deep breath, and asked, “But
you
know how to arouse and please a woman?”

“I rather like to think I do. Tell me, what exactly did you hear? These walls are awfully thin. Did you happen to hear anything besides her screaming?”

She couldn’t help smiling. “At one point she scolded him for mistaking her for a wet nurse.”

A high-pitched snicker hooted from the other side of the bed.

“And then he said…oh lud, I can’t say the rest of it.” To her own surprise, she actually started giggling.

“They’re not just for dispensing milk, you know. Men love them.”

Heat shimmered over her, but she didn’t know if it was from the blanket or from her own burgeoning desire. She thought of feeling his lips on the now tingling tips of her breasts.

“Men love to touch them…and stroke them…and cup them in their hands,” Nathan murmured. “They love to suckle on their very tips. What do you think about that?”

She couldn’t bear the heat any longer. She pushed back the covers.

But what did she think about that? “I think it sounds intriguing. Do you need your man parts to show me that?”

“Not at all. I only need my mouth and hands. Do you want me to show you?”

She pulled up the shirt, bunching it around her neck. “Please.”

He rolled over to his side and slid a warm hand under and over and along the sides of her breasts, as if trying to ascertain their shape simply by his touch. Something—a fingertip, perhaps—feathered across one of her nipples, teasing it in a light circular motion.

“I’ll wager he didn’t do this,” Nathan whispered. “I can feel it getting harder just under my fingertip.” He removed the finger and Kate whimpered in protest. “He probably didn’t lick his finger before touching it again.” Once more he brushed his fingertip, now wet, across the pebbled nub, and lightning streaked through her from her breasts to her groin, still covered by the blanket.

“It makes you want more, doesn’t it, Katherine?”

“Oh, yes,” she gasped, arching her back in invitation for more.

Rough wetness grazed one nipple and then another, swirling around them. He must have been laving them with his tongue. She felt in the dark, and somewhere over her breasts she felt his thick, silky hair. She thrust both hands into it just as his lips closed around one of her aching nipples.

If this was what prompted Mrs. Driscoll to accuse her husband of treating her like a wet nurse, then the woman was a fool. No one had ever told Kate what to expect, either—because there’d never been an occasion for her to expect anything.

She certainly hadn’t expected pleasure so intense that she found herself aching for more in other places. Those other places that Mr. Driscoll had wanted to explore.

Those other places that Nathan was approaching with his hand that slid down her rib cage and over her belly, stopping only at the blanket that still covered everything below her hips.

He finally lifted his head from her breasts. “You haven’t made the slightest protest.”

“That’s because I have naught to protest.”

“Naught at all? Do you know if Mrs. Driscoll protested anything else?”

“He wanted to see her. All of her. I assume neither had blown out a candle.”

“Would you like me to see you? All of you?”

She trembled at the thought of him seeing her naked. “Well, I’ve already seen all of you. But I’ve already blown out the candle for the night, so perhaps you could see me in the morning.”

“Of course, you already know I don’t need to actually see you to arouse you and pleasure you.” She sensed his head just above hers. “You do feel pleasure from what I’m doing, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she barely whispered.

“And you do feel aroused, longing for more, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she said in breathy delight. “I do want more.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when his lips covered hers, and this time, she eagerly sought his tongue with her own. His hand cupped her breast again, squeezing it gently as she tasted the whisky he’d been drinking earlier in the evening. She twined her arms over his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her, sighing into his mouth as she reveled in the hard warmth of his naked chest pressed against her own, the roughness of his tongue stroking hers.

His hand glided over her belly again, heading straight for where she now ached the most. He broke the kiss, his lips still hovering only a hairsbreadth away from hers as he whispered, “Would you like to know what happens next?”

“Perhaps you should show me. Don’t tell me.”

“Are you sure?” His fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket. “You might appreciate the warning if you don’t know what to expect.”

She smiled. “Well, thanks to what I heard next door, it just so happens I do have some idea of what to expect.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to impart what you heard?”

Not until this moment had she realized it was possible to hear a smile, because she was quite sure she heard one in his voice.

“What he said was so awful that not only did Mrs. Driscoll say how embarrassed she was, but even I was embarrassed for her.”

“Surely you don’t think it’s that dreadful? Why, if you only knew of the pleasure…”

She didn’t. “Just don’t say what he said.”

“But how do I know what he said unless you tell me?”

“Oh, it was something about finding a cat curled up on the roof of a cottage, only it fell through a hole in the thatch, so he had to go after it. I don’t know.”

Nathan drew in a long, sharply audible breath before collapsing into gales of laughter.

“Lord Byron he’s not,” Kate added petulantly.

Nathan could barely speak, but somehow he managed to rasp out, “I think even I’m embarrassed.”

“You sound as if you’re feeling better now.”

He sobered somewhat. “I’m still feeling a trifle sore, and I truly don’t want to do anything to hurt you.”

“Then it does hurt? She did do a lot of screaming, and at one point he said something about trying to break something. What did he break?”

“Her virginity. Her maidenhead. If she was in agony enough to scream, then it’s only because he didn’t prepare her properly.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper again. “And how does a man prepare a woman? Is it possible to do so without going on to break anything?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Would you like me to show you?”

She pushed the blanket down, past her hips, then took his hand and placed it on the very top edge of her mound. “Please.”

He brushed his hand through her nest of curls and then nudged her thighs apart, pushing the blanket over her knees. She held her breath as his fingers ever so lightly feathered her moist folds, parting them to expose the tiny knot of flesh she felt pulsating within. She whimpered as he teased it with the pad of his thumb, gently stroking it in a delicate circular motion, sending spirals of tantalizing pleasure through her veins, heating her blood, making her hotter and more eager for the wonderful release she knew must come eventually. His touch was so light that the only pressure she felt was inside of her, swelling, throbbing, ready to burst any moment, if only…she didn’t know what. He was torturing her but not in the same way that Mr. Driscoll seemed to have tortured his wife. Kate knew there would be a reward for Nathan’s exquisite torment, if only…if only she could hang on for just one more flick of his fingertip, one more arch of her hips, one more whimper of delight.

And then it happened. Incredible heat exploded from her woman’s core, sending flames of ecstasy shooting and licking through every part of her body as she cried out, only vaguely aware that Nathan’s caresses were suddenly faster and harder, as if he hoped to sustain her climax for as long as possible. She had no idea how long the waves of heat kept shimmering through her. She only knew that, as much as she liked this, she wasn’t sure she could bear it anymore, and she finally grabbed his wrist to stop him as she panted for breath, her heart thundering.

He planted a kiss on her brow. “You’ve never had one before, have you?”

She stared wide-eyed into the dark. “Actually, I think I have.”

“Not really?”

“In my sleep. Every so often I’ll have a dream in which—oh, I don’t know, I’m naked and there’s a nameless, faceless man, but I don’t remember much beyond that except I always wake up just as I’m having a sensation quite like the one I just had.”

“Fascinating. I had no idea women had dreams like that, too.”

“What next?”

“How about this.” He slid his hand lower, and just like that, he slipped a finger inside her.

Kate gasped with pleasure, involuntarily clenching her most intimate muscles around Nathan’s finger as he thrust it in and out. She felt delightfully wanton as she writhed to his rhythm.

A moment later, he introduced a second finger and lowered his head over her breasts again, taking one of the hard nubs into his mouth.

Then, if that wasn’t enough, he starting teasing her again with his thumb, all the while pumping his first two fingers inside of her.

“More,” she whispered, as she felt another wave cresting deep within. “I want more. I want you, Nathan, all of you…ohh…” And the wave rolled over again, flooding her with incredible bliss. This time she pulled his hand away not because she couldn’t bear another stroke, but because she hungered for more, and not just to have his manhood inside of her. She wanted his heart and soul.

Could that mean she was in love with him?

But more importantly, had she finally found
love?

“Not tonight, I’m afraid.” He kissed her tenderly on the brow. “We have several more days before we reach London.”

“And then?” She reached up to stroke his thick, silky hair.

“That depends on what happens in the meantime.” He rolled over next to her, emitting a long, weary sigh. “I have the strangest feeling you’ll sleep quite well tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean after what you just experienced, not once but twice, you should sleep quite—”

“No, I mean before that.” She sat up and pulled down the shirt. “What do you think will happen in the meantime?”

“With any luck, nothing, but all manner of unexpected things have been happening these past few days. Things that weren’t supposed to happen, meaning there could be more things that aren’t supposed to happen.”

Her heart twisted. He was probably worried that because of what just happened—which she had to admit really shouldn’t have happened—he would have to marry her.

He, a duke who could have his pick of brides—and no doubt still believed he should once he reached London—would certainly not wish to choose for his bride a plain, bespectacled spinster who’d traded places with a weepy chit he’d won in a card game.