My Fair Princess (28 page)

“Did you like that, sweet?” he murmured.

“Um, I'm not quite sure, yet.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “No? Then I'm sure you'll want me to continue.”

“Hmm, yes. It might be useful to be certain about it.”

“I'd like to be very certain.” In a leisurely fashion, he lifted her legs, one after the other, and rested them on his shoulders. She thought she'd been exposed before, but clearly she'd been wrong. Never in her life had she felt so intensely vulnerable.

And utterly wonderful.

“Ready?” he murmured as he bent to her again.

She could barely draw breath, so she simply gave him a tight nod.

And fell to pieces under his skillful mouth. Gillian had no choice but to give herself up to him. She writhed under his tongue, but he clamped firm hands on her thighs, holding her open for the passionate assault.

She could hardly believe it was happening. Leverton was the most disciplined man in the world. A paragon of civility and good taste, a man who made Beau Brummel seem like a failure. And yet here he was, crouched between her thighs like an untamed beast, lavishing her with wild, primitive pleasure. He'd bared her body and soul, and yet never had she felt so safe and cherished.

Gillian was madly in love with him, and it frightened her half to death.

When he pushed two fingers inside her, then flicked his tongue over the tight knot of her sex, Gillian curled forward and grabbed his shoulders. “Charles, stop,” she panted. “It's too much. You're driving me insane.”

He raised his head. His features were tight with passion, and his eyes glittered with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. But he immediately drew his hand from her body and gently lifted her legs down.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asked in a husky voice.

“Yes . . . no.” She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Blast. I sound like an idiot.” How could she tell him that it wasn't the physical sensations that overwhelmed her, but what he was doing to her emotions?

Charles leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss that tasted like musk and port. She sighed and kissed him back. It was earthy and honest, and she loved it. He pulled back a bit and then gave her a sly grin. “From your reaction, I'm assuming this isn't a Sicilian custom.”

She languidly draped her arms over his shoulders. “Not in my part of Sicily, anyway.”

“Then I'm glad I was your first. But you do still seem a bit taken aback, Miss Dryden.”

“Stunned, more like it. I never imagined such a thing. It was a bit overwhelming, I admit.”

He frowned. “Gillian—”

She ruffled his hair. “I loved it. It just takes some getting used to. It's very . . .”

“Intimate?”

She nodded.

He sat back on his heels and studied her. “Then why don't you show me what you feel comfortable with.”

She blinked. “I don't understand.”

He waggled a hand. “This, remember? You told me on the beach.”

Gillian stared at him and then burst into laughter. “You cannot be serious.”

His smile was slow and predatory. “I am. In fact, I've been thinking about it ever since that night. I'd love to watch you, Gillian. Teach me what gives you pleasure.”

While he spoke, he slowly unbuttoned the fall of his breeches. When he freed himself, her mouth went dry. His request was outrageous and exciting—especially coming from him—and she was suddenly wild to do whatever he wanted.

She grabbed a pillow to stuff behind her back, then wriggled closer to the edge of the chaise and tucked her knees snug against his hips. Then, blushing, she reached between her thighs, slipping her hand between her soft, damp folds.

“That's it, sweetheart,” Charles growled. “Show me what you like. God, you're so gorgeous.”

While she pleasured herself, Charles curled his big hands over her breasts. He stroked and played, then gently dragged his thumbs over her stiff nipples. Gillian moaned and arched into his hands. She increased the pressure between her thighs, rubbing the slick, hard knot. Pleasure radiated from beneath her fingertips, storming through her body, rapidly taking her to the edge.

When Charles leaned in and sucked her breast into his mouth, gently nipping her, she climaxed instantly. Gillian grabbed his shoulders, shuddering as contractions rippled through her body in luxurious waves.

Before the wonderful sensation faded, Charles fitted himself to her body and slowly pushed deep. Gillian tucked her legs around his waist and pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He felt enormous and wonderful inside her, filling her and stealing her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, hugging the emotion as tightly as she hugged him.

He nudged her chin up with a gentle hand. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

She sucked in a wavering breath. Charles was smiling down at her with an expression so tender that her vision went blurry. “Oh, blast,” she said in a gruff voice. “You're turning me into an absolute watering pot.”

“Is it all right?” His voice rumbled through her.

She let out a happy sigh and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “It feels perfect. Which shouldn't surprise me, I suppose.”

“Love, I'm just getting started.”

And then he started to move. Slowly at first, letting her ride through the fading echo of her climax. But then he slipped his hands under her bottom and tilted her up to meet him. He pushed harder now, and even deeper. Unbelievably, another climax built inside where he stroked her over and over.

“Oh, Charles,” she gasped, clinging to him. She threw back her head, needing to see him, and needing him to see what she felt in her heart. That she loved him, and always would. There would never be anyone but him.

He stared at her, his gaze turbulent with passion. “Yes, love, that's it. Come for me again.”

And she did, flying once more. Instinctively, her body curled around him and clung tight, as if only he could keep her tethered to the earth. With a groan, Charles pushed into her one last time and came with a hard shudder. For an endless moment, they seemed to hang suspended, before collapsing in a glorious tangle of limbs.

After a minute or so, Charles gently untangled them and propped her back on the chaise. Then he joined her, easily lifting her to rest on top of him.

“All right, love?” he murmured, pressing a kiss on the top of her head.

She nodded, struggling for a moment to wrestle her emotions under control. “I do believe I'm splendid,” she said, propping her chin on his chest. “Although I certainly wasn't expecting so torrid an encounter. You are full of surprises, Your Grace, I must say.”

His slow answering smile was full of promise. “A lifetime of them with you, I hope.”

When it came to love, Gillian had never dared hope before. Perhaps, finally, she could.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Charles frowned at Scunthorpe. “You've heard nothing?”

The estate manager's impassive expression didn't change, but Charles fancied he saw something shift in his gaze. Scunthorpe ducked his head and peered down at the floor, as if inspecting the Oriental pattern on the library carpet. But when he looked up, his gaze conveyed only regret—presumably for disappointing his employer. “I'm sorry, sir. I've heard nothing of any relevance about the smugglers, and certainly nothing about the whereabouts of the missing jewels.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, frustration leaching away his good mood. Gillian would be with him momentarily. He wished he had better news to impart.

“Is there anything else, sir?” Scunthorpe gently prompted after a long pause.

Charles's manager's report didn't make sense, especially in light of the letter Charles had received from Andris, the runner from Bow Street. But Scunthorpe was a diligent manager, and he had never had cause to doubt his word. “No, that's all for now. But keep an ear to the ground. I refuse to believe those men have simply disappeared into thin air.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Scunthorpe, clearly relieved to be dismissed, hurried toward the door. Perhaps he worried that his failure to make any progress on the robbery would adversely affect his employment. It wouldn't, but Charles paid all his employees more than a fair wage, and he had to admit that he'd expected better. He'd placed a great deal of responsibility in Scunthorpe's hands and had never questioned his judgment before.

But something was off, and it would nag at him until he tracked the feeling to its source. That meant it was time to take a more direct role in the affair. Charles had been reluctant to go poking around, since it was likely the locals wouldn't be willing to share what they knew about the smuggling gangs. Some of them might be involved in the runs themselves. Even if they weren't, the locals had to live with smugglers and owlers in their midst. Yes, they owed their duke a certain degree of loyalty, but he couldn't be there every moment to protect his people from the retribution that could result if they talked.

There was nothing romantic about free trading. Many smugglers would think nothing of killing anyone who endangered their trade.

There was a light tap on the door just as Scunthorpe reached it. He opened it, then stepped back when Gillian entered.

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, looking uncertain. “Hewitt said that you wished to see me, but I can come back later.”

“That won't be necessary,” Scunthorpe said. “I was just leaving.”

Charles frowned at the man's attitude. It was just shy of outright disrespect.

“Good morning, Mr. Scunthorpe,” Gillian said. “It's a lovely day, is it not?” She gave him a sweet smile, but held her ground, deliberately blocking the doorway.

With obvious reluctance, Scunthorpe finally gave her a slight bow. “Good morning, Miss Dryden. Yes, it seems a fine day.”

She peered at him with affected concern. “Are you well, Mr. Scunthorpe? You seem a tad splenetic this morning. I do hope you're not coming down with something. Or perhaps His Grace is piling on the work. He's such a dreadful taskmaster, don't you think? Quite shocking.”

Charles had to repress a grin at her tactics. The look on Scunthorpe's face suggested she'd just poked him in the backside with a sharp implement. “I am very well, thank you,” he said in a stiff tone. “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

Gillian stepped aside. “Have a good day,” she called after the manager as he hurried from the room.

Shaking her head, she shut the door. Charles crossed the room to meet her.

“I do not like that man,” she said.

“I can see that, but you handled him very well.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

She gave him a rather shy smile. “It wouldn't be the first time I've had to manage his sort. They expect to put me in my place and are quite surprised when it doesn't work.”

Anger flickered within him. “You shouldn't have to manage it. And you can be sure I'll be speaking to Scunthorpe about his inappropriate demeanor.”

“I wish you wouldn't. It tends to make things worse,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “Best to just let me deal with it in my own way.”

“Gillian, you're going to be a duchess. You don't have to put up with that sort of nonsense.”

She tilted her head. “No, but it shouldn't matter whether I'm a duchess or not, don't you think?”

He winced. “Of course it shouldn't. Forgive me, love. That was rather clumsy of me.”

She patted his cheek. “I am rather good at the social niceties, as you know. Perhaps I should be giving you lessons, instead of the other way around.”

“Like the lessons you taught me last night?”

Their encounter had certainly been a revelation. Despite her assertion that she wasn't an innocent, it was clear she'd had very little experience when it came to lovemaking. But her enthusiasm and willingness to experiment had leveled him. He suspected he would be on his deathbed before he forgot what they'd done on that chaise, and then later in front of the fire. Charles hoped those memories would soon be replaced with many more created over a lifetime with her.

“None of that nonsense, sir,” she said in a stern voice. “You'll make me blush.”

He laughed and drew her over to a club chair in front of his desk. He would have preferred the chaise, but that was too tempting. It was hard enough keeping his hands off her, especially since she was looking so lovely in a primrose-colored gown that hugged her gentle curves and made her tanned complexion glow with health.

“You're looking very fetching this morning, sweetheart. I quite like that gown on you.”

“I'm sure I look a complete hag, since you kept me up for most of the night. Honestly, I thought you would never let me go to sleep.” Then she squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God. I can't believe I just said that. How indelicate of me.”

“Actually, I believe
you
kept
me
up for most of the night.”

Her eyes popped open. “Good heavens, Charles, that's quite a naughty jest. What's come over you?”

“You have. It's the oddest thing, isn't it? Here I am shocking you, instead of the other way around.”

“I do hope you're not going to regret what's happened between us,” she said. “My throwing you off your feed, I mean.”

Throwing him off his feed? She'd turned his life upside down, and it felt splendid, which surprised the hell out of him.

He leaned in to kiss her, and, after a moment of hesitation, she stretched up to meet him, instantly opening her mouth to his questing tongue. It was hard to stop, but Charles forced himself to. “That's enough of that, or I'll have you right back where we were a few hours ago.”

“Yes, we must avoid such things,” she said, sounding breathless. “You might become unhinged if we gave in to that sort of temptation in broad daylight.”

“I can think of no more delightful way to lose my mind,” he said with mock solemnity.

She tried—and failed—to hold back a smile. “You are too kind, Your Grace. Now, did you wish to speak with me about something specific?”

He sat on the edge of his desk, reaching back to grab the letter on his blotter. “We have a great deal to discuss, including plans for our wedding, but there was something else I wanted to show you first.”

“Our wedding. Oh, yes, of course. I'd forgotten about that.”

He froze for a second. “You'd forgotten about that?” “Not really, but . . . never mind, I'm just being silly,” she said, flapping a hand. “Did you want me to see that letter?”

Gillian was obviously still ruffled at the notion of becoming his duchess. He could think of a number of pleasing ways to soothe her nerves, but this matter, unfortunately, had to come first.

“Yes,” he said, handing it to her. “It's a report from Joshua Andris, the runner I hired. As I mentioned to you earlier, he's currently in Lincoln. I'm sorry to say he's not making a great deal of progress in tracking down your jewelry.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the range of emotions flickering over her expressive face. She'd switched her focus to the letter, apparently reading it through twice before handing it back.

“I'm not entirely sure I understand. Why is he so certain the jewels aren't in Lincoln? Did you not say it was the most likely place to find them?” She grimaced. “I hope they haven't already been taken to London. Surely they would be lost if such were the case.”

“Andris is quite certain that such is not the case. He's cultivated some promising leads on identifying the gang who robbed us. It would appear that they operate out of Alford and deal exclusively with pawnbrokers based in Lincoln. There's no evidence to suggest they took the goods to London.”

Gillian perked up. “So if our jewels haven't shown up in Lincoln yet, that means the smugglers still have them.”

“Likely so.”

She leaned forward in her chair. “How far are we from Alford?”

“Seven miles.”

She jumped up. “Is there an excise officer there that we can contact? Failing that, we can begin making enquiries ourselves, don't you think?”

Charles stood and rested his hands on her shoulders, gently urging her back down. “Not so fast, my love. I've instructed Andris to do just that. We should have a report from him within a few days.”

“But the smugglers could take our jewels to Lincoln in the meantime. They could even start pulling the stones out of the settings, and then we would never recover them.”

“I understand your concern, but Andris and I believe this is the best way to proceed.”

“I don't agree,” she said with an emphatic shake of her head. “I don't see why we can't at least discuss this with the authorities. It's better than sitting around doing nothing.”

When he hesitated, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Charles, what aren't you telling me?”

“I can't be entirely sure, but it would appear that the excise officer for that area is not entirely dependable.”

“Do you think he might be taking bribes to look the other way?”

“Very possibly.”

“How appalling,” she said indignantly. “How do you know this? I thought you only spoke to the authorities in Skegness?”

“I also had Scunthorpe follow up with the excise officer in Alford. He thought it suspicious that the officer displayed so little interest in the case.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked, scowling at him.

“Because I didn't think it would help. And you were already upset enough as it was.”

“That is unacceptable, Charles. We're to be married. You shouldn't be withholding information from me.”

“I don't mean to be overly precise,” he said in an apologetic tone, “but we were not formally engaged at the time of our initial discussions of this topic, if you recall.”

She silently fumed for a few moments. “Very well. I concede the point. But in the future, I expect you to discuss everything with me. Is that clear?”

He placed a hand on his chest. “I will be an open book to you, my love.”

Gillian scoffed. “Trying to charm me into compliance? It won't work, Your Grace.”

“It was worth a try,” he said. “Now, what else would you like to know before we leave this matter in the runner's capable hands.”

“I don't agree that we should leave everything up to him. And I want to know why you didn't report your suspicions about the excise officer to his superiors.”

Charles throttled back an exasperated sigh. “Gillian, I have absolutely no proof that the officer is taking bribes. I will not ruin a man's career based on my estate manager's vague feelings, which might be entirely wrong.” He held up a hand when she started to protest. “And that is exactly why I'm asking Andris to investigate this officer and see what he can uncover.”

She mulled that over a bit, then gave him a nod. “Very well, I accept that. But I still don't see why we can't make a little visit to Alford. Poke around, as it were. See what we come up with.”

“Ah, yes. The Duke of Leverton and his fiancée poking around the local tavern and shops, making thinly veiled enquiries about smugglers and stolen jewelry. That couldn't possibly get the wind up.”

“There's no need to be sarcastic. I wasn't suggesting that we ride into town in the ducal carriage and commence interrogating the locals. We could go in disguise. Just a farmer and his wife, perhaps.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I would be recognized on sight, since I am fairly well-known in these parts. Nor can I imagine myself playing the role of farmer with any degree of credibility.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are a very important man, after all. I'm sure all of England would recognize you on sight. Very well, you stay home, and I will go in disguise. No one will know who I am.”

Charles propped his hands on his hips. “That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. It's entirely unacceptable.” He knew he had little chance of intimidating Gillian simply by looming over her with a fierce scowl, but he didn't expect her to regard him with something that looked remarkably like indulgence, either.

“On the contrary,” she said. “I've done it a thousand times before, and I'm very good at it.”

“Your days of playacting are over,” he said. “This isn't Sicily, Gillian. It's England, and young ladies don't go running about the countryside in disguise, trying to break up smuggling rings and recover stolen goods.”