Taming the Duke (22 page)

Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She wasn’t the type of woman that he fancied. She wasn’t knowledgeable in the art of satisfying men, as was Elizabeth, or the other women who fawned over men like Dalton. She felt a squeezing hurt in the pit of her stomach. Despite her earlier fears, she was disappointed. Yes, she had wanted Dalton to come to her, make love to her as though he really cared.

The silence of the room, forlorn and desolate, brought a sweep of perplexing feelings that chilled her. Pained by the unbidden truth, she felt the loneliness and isolation to her very soul. She fought back the hot sting of threatening tears. Pride. Thank God, she still had her pride. If she wanted him, she’d be damned if she would show it. If he didn’t love her, then she would force herself not to love him.

Alicia stormed out of the room, down the hall to her own suite to change into a day gown. She had some serious thinking to do, and there was only one place where she could find the peace she craved.

When Alicia stepped into the stable, she was immediately comforted by the familiar smells of hay, animals and leather. She hurried past the horse stalls until she reached the last box at the end of the corridor.

Penn had left the lantern burning, she thought with irritation. Then she noticed Bashshar’s stall
door was ajar. Before she had a chance to react, the door creaked open.

Dalton stood, staring in surprise. Instead of speaking, he opened the door wider, almost in invitation. Beside him, Bashshar whinnied, tossing his head in greeting. She noticed the currycomb in Dalton’s hand, then she realized that he often worked with the horses after the servants had retired for the night. Perhaps he had sought the one place that brought him peace, too.

He was dressed in a white shirt, open to the waist. Whorls of black hair covered his chest. She couldn’t help but stare. He ignored her as he gripped the currycomb in one hand and the stiff brush in the other. Both hands began the long, slow strokes across Bashshar’s flank. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow. She had never seen his bare arms before, she realized, and the sight brought strange little flips in her stomach as she admired the flex and play of the long, thick muscles in his forearms.

“Did you come looking for me?” he asked finally, not taking his eyes from his work.

“Of course not!” Her cheeks grew hot as she realized he was arrogant enough to believe she might have sought him out. “I—I couldn’t sleep. I thought I might see how Bashshar was doing.”

“Hmm.” Dalton’s long easy strokes across Bashshar’s back never slowed. “You were sleeping quite soundly a while ago….”

Surprised, her eyes fixed with his. So he
had
come to their bedchamber. She hesitated, afraid
to reveal the joy that knowledge gave her. “Then, why didn’t you…remain?”

A look she didn’t understand crossed his face. “I…thought you needed to sleep.”

“Oh.” She dropped her gaze to Dalton’s beautifully shaped hands as the brush slid across the ebony satin of the stallion’s hide. She watched, mesmerized, as the corded muscles flexed with each stroke of the brush and currycomb. A strange sensation twisted in her stomach.

Had he found her so undesirable that he could simply walk away from his bride on his wedding night?

Maybe she should leave, if that’s what he wanted. He hadn’t come looking for her, after all. But somehow, here in the familiar comfort of the stable with the horses, she didn’t want to return to the cold elegance of his bedchamber. She had always felt more at ease with Dalton, here, working with Bashshar. At least here, she wasn’t alone. “It will be dawn soon,” she said, then immediately wondered why she had said something so incredibly silly.

“Hmm.”

In the lengthening silence, she watched him groom the horse, and she felt increasingly as though she didn’t belong. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she turned to leave. “Well, since Bashshar seems to be content for the night…”

Dalton glanced up. “I’ve never thanked you properly for all you’ve done for Bashshar.” His voice was deep and thick with emotion. Bashshar nuzzled Dalton’s neck and shoulder as though he
understood. Alicia’s throat tightened as she saw the rare glimpse of his caring that Dalton tried so hard to hide.

“After Bashshar’s accident, I was racked with guilt for not putting him down. Every trainer, including the royal horse trainers had urged me to put him out of his misery. But…I just couldn’t bear to lose him. Somehow, I’d hoped for a miracle—” Dalton turned his loving gaze on her “—and then I found you.”

A rush of tender gratitude squeezed her heart. She wasn’t sure if he was speaking about her, or about her healing. “I—I’m glad,” was all she could trust herself to say.

He straightened, then laid the brush and currycomb down. In several strides, he came beside her. Taking her small hands in his, he gently rubbed her fingers. “Such small hands for such great healing.”

“I wish I could heal what troubles you.”

Immediately his brows lifted. “Heal me? Of what?” he asked playfully, refusing to take her seriously.

What had just passed between them gave her courage. She pressed forward. “Heal you of your fear of love.”

He took her hand and smiled lazily; his white teeth flashed against his dark, sun-bronzed skin. “You haven’t forgiven me for my earlier careless remarks to Justin. I apologized, Alicia. Won’t you forgive me?”

“Then you’re admitting that you believe in love?”

“Of course.” His words came much too quickly.
She knew he was just saying what he believed she had wanted to hear.

Oh, why couldn’t she let matters lie? Now, he would think she wanted him to confess deep affection for her. Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze to the straw-strewn floor. “Are you planning to remain here for the rest of the night?”

“Is that your way of asking me if I’ll come to your bed?” he asked lightly, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Of course not! I mean, I expected to…I don’t…”

Dalton smiled. “That’s not a very clear message, my dear.”

A feeling of vulnerability that he could see right through her caused her to snap. “I’m sorry. I’m not experienced in these…arrangements.”

“That’s obvious.” His voice was low and rough. “If you were, you wouldn’t have come looking for me here, now, if you didn’t intend to offer…an arrangement.”

“Believe me, your grace, I have no wish to trouble you with offers you do not want.”

Dalton’s heated gaze grew darker. “Believe me, Wife, you could not make any offer of yourself that I would not want.”

She took several steps backward, reaching the door of the stall. She turned and pushed opened the door. He walked up behind her. “I think I’ll spend the remainder of the night in my cottage,” she said.

“Now there’s a thought.”

She stepped into the corridor and paused, peering over her shoulder as he followed her. She
watched him draw the bolt across Bashshar’s stall. “What do you mean?”

“The cottage,” he said, his voice silky. “We can spend what remains of the night at your wee cottage.”

“Certainly not you…I mean, there’s not enough room for—” Her fingers nervously played with the ribbons at her neckline.

He laughed. “How much room do you think we’ll need?” He leaned closer, his face within inches of hers. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, the familiar, fresh masculine scent of him suddenly unsettling. Her pulse hammered in her throat.

In the lantern light, she recognized the heat of desire in those blue eyes beneath the black lashes.
Desire
.

“Alicia, I want to please you,” he said tenderly. Brushing his lips against her temple, he added, “I don’t want you to come to me afraid.”

His strong hands swept her up into his arms. She leaned against his hard chest while she slowly glided her hands across his broad shoulders to lock behind his neck. He smiled down at her as he carried her from the stable. The loud crunch of his footfalls along the gravel could barely be heard above the pounding of her heart.

Outside, the cool, damp air rushed against her flushed skin as he carried her along the path that led to the tiny cottage nestled in the shadows.

He pushed the door open. The fragrance of roses from the bouquet on the mantel filled her nostrils. She closed her eyes, making believe that he wanted
her, loved her with all his heart. For tonight, she would pretend it was more than desire. Then maybe someday…But the words she had overheard him say came back to taunt her.
Love makes women weak and men foolish
.

He laid her upon the lace coverlet, the only light coming from the half moon shining through the lace-paneled window. Self-consciously, she glanced down at the plain gown she wore. “I wanted you to see me in my new nightgown—”

“Shh, my darling,” he said huskily.

She watched his strong, dark fingers unfasten the pink ribbons at her neckline. With experienced assurance, he brushed the soft fabric down her arms, covering her partial nakedness with his body while he tenderly removed her other garments. The heat of his body surrounded her. She closed her eyes, feeling shy and uncertain.

Gently, his mouth moved over her face, lightly kissing her cheeks, her forehead, each closed eyelid. “Alicia, look at me.”

Barely able to breathe, Alicia did what he asked. But she wasn’t prepared for the wild and uncontrolled passion darkening his eyes. “Kiss me, Alicia.”

She wanted to, how she wanted to, but she didn’t possess the skill of the other women he’d known. What if she displeased him?

He nibbled at her bottom lip. “Kiss me, my love.”

My love. How she wished it were true
. She stiffened. If only she could be neutral to his pretense of desiring her.

His warm hand cupped her face toward his. “What’s the matter, Alicia? Don’t you want me to love you?”

She shivered, turning her head away.

Dalton’s fingers grasped her shoulders, drawing her toward him. His warm breath mingled with hers. “I’ll not force you, Alicia.” His arms slid away from her and he sat up, the mattress creaking when his long legs draped over the side of the bed. “If you want me to leave, then say it.”

Everything was going so badly. She closed her eyes, afraid to trust her voice to speak. Instead, her answer was a soft whimper coming from deep inside her throat.

The sound of her cry was his undoing. “My darling, if you’re so afraid of me, then we’ll wait.”

Her thick lashes shaded whatever emotion was in her eyes.

“Dear God.” His voice broke with huskiness. “Are you this unhappy to be married to me?”

Her head lifted. “N—no, it’s…”

“It’s what, Alicia?”

She raised her chin. “It’s that I—I don’t think you could pretend well enough for me not to know that I don’t please you.”

“If you don’t please me?” Amazed, he shook his head. “Dear God, Alicia. What have I done to make you think such a thing?”

“We both know that I have no practice in…” Her thick lashes shadowed her cheeks, and at that moment, he thought his heart might explode with tenderness.

“It is I who should please you, my love. Don’t you know that?” Her dark velvet eyes met his, and her unguarded innocence threatened to be his undoing. “Lie back and let me love you, Alicia. Let me show you all there is between a man and a woman.”

She shuddered. “Are you going to kiss me?”

He smiled. “Do you want me to?”

Her lips curled slightly. “Yes, I would like that.”

He grinned, then leaned over her and feathered a kiss along her bottom lip. He felt her tremble beneath him. Then she opened her eyes. “Why don’t you kiss me like you did in the library?”

“Hmm, I don’t think I remember.” He nibbled gently at her lower lip. “Why don’t you show me?”

Her sweet mouth met his, her soft, gentle fingers worked their way to the back of his neck. His lips demanded more, and she willingly gave. She shifted beneath him, molding her body to his. Blood leaped in his veins as he sensed the change in her.

Her tongue sought his, inflaming him with desire. Gently, he cupped her silky breast; her nipple blossomed beneath his touch. The low moan she uttered stroked his manhood and challenged his self-control. His mouth gently closed around the hardened nub as he drank in her sweetness. She arched beneath him, moaning.

“Dalton?” she said huskily.

He lifted his head. “Yes, my sweet?”

“Why is it…the more you kiss me, the more…?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“The more you want me to?” he finished for her.

Her answer unfolded in a soft, yielding sigh. Dalton smiled. “That, my pet, is the wonder of lovemaking.” He pulled her curving body on top of him, gathering her against his chest. Her exploring fingers curled against the tangle of his chest hair. Everywhere she touched him, he felt the silky fire burn him alive. He wanted her, desperately. He had never known a woman whose sweet innocence and heated sensuality fired him with such excitement and passion. He wanted her like he had never wanted a woman.

Bolder now, Alicia kissed him passionately. His eyes opened when he felt her hips match his in their primal rhythm. Her eyes, warm pools of heated desire, flamed him further. He ached to touch the sleek depths of her womanly heat, but he didn’t want to do anything to startle her.

With a long, ragged breath, Alicia lifted her head. If she knew the seductive power her smouldering gaze had on him, she’d not believe it. His trembling fingers slid along her hips; he felt her shiver. He ran his hand between her thighs. She twisted with his touch. Gently, he shifted her beneath him, then captured her mouth in a deep, endless kiss filled with raw hunger.

He felt her legs part as she arched for him. Moments later, she was damp, ready for him.

Alicia shivered as he began to move over her. She wanted to beg him to end this sweet torment, but she had no idea what she wanted instead. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to stop the
driving thrusts that fueled the gathering storm deep within.

As Dalton increased the tempo, Alicia felt a burst of sheer ecstasy erupt inside her. His mouth captured her cry of delight. She clung to him, writhing against him, lost of all consciousness. With the last deep thrust, she felt his shuddering warmth pour into her.