The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (25 page)

“It doesn’t much matter. He died.”

She clutched the chair’s high back, as though needing to steady herself. “How old were you? Six? Eight? You were only a child.” She looked angry, as though she wanted to pound his chest. She wouldn’t cause much damage, for her hands were small and hardly able to grasp his shoulders. Her little fists wouldn’t even bruise his thick skin.

“I was four. The incident happened about twenty-five years ago, to be precise. Satisfied?” He turned away, crossing the room to stride to the door, though he didn’t wish to leave. He couldn’t leave, dressed as he was. Or rather, undressed as he was. He hadn’t a shirt on. Didn’t have on his boots. He was clad only in his trousers. And there was a hard bulge between his legs that Dillie would have noticed if she hadn’t been so busy staring at his face.

“Four!” She let out a yelp. Then he heard a thud. Damn it, had she just fallen? She must have been chasing after him.

He returned to her side, his heart lodged in his throat. “For pity’s sake! You’re a stubborn little baggage. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I landed softly,” she said with a laughing groan. “No harm done.”

He made certain of it before he scooped her off the floor. “You’re attics-to-let. You know that, don’t you?”

“I didn’t want you to leave me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned into him so that her breasts heaved against his skin.

“Dillie, I—” He was about to tell her that he’d never leave her. But how could he be sure? “I had better put you into bed.”

She stiffened in his arms. “Only if you’ll join me.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking. I’m not sure I do either. You have me spinning in circles, first demanding that I spill my secrets if I ever hope to marry you or have you naked in this bed, and in the next moment, asking me to join you in bed. Does this mean I’m to be allowed access to your delectable body without the need to marry you or spill any of my secrets?”

She nodded.

“Not a single damn requirement or consequence?”

“Why is it so hard for you to comprehend? To put it in mathematical terms, sharing secrets equals marriage plus sex. Not sharing your secrets equals no marriage plus sex. Either way, you get to have your wicked way with me. So, do you wish to save me from spinsterhood or not? Because I won’t ever marry you if you walk away now.”

He glowered at her, not liking the game she was still playing, and not liking the way she was manipulating him. Doing a bloody good job of it as well. She knew he’d never allow her to remain a spinster. He wouldn’t give up until she married him. For her own good. He owed her for saving his life. “I’ll stay.”

“Thank you, Ian. Climb into bed with me. I want to be in your arms, feel the weight of your body against mine.”

He didn’t know what else to do with the bossy bit of goods, so he agreed. Well, he knew what to do with her. Kiss her. Peel the shirt off her. Bury himself inside her sweet, naked body. Lick and touch and tease every beautiful inch of her. Make her hot and slick for him. Make her scream out his name while in the throes of ecstasy.

Make her agree to marry him.

Dillie Farthingale was not going to be a one-night dalliance for him.

A SUDDEN GHASTLY THOUGHT
struck Ian as he lay stretched atop the covers on the bed beside Dillie, certain his rod would permanently ossify if it grew any harder. She still wore his shirt. Thin shirt. And she had a dreamy expression in her eyes that made their spectacular blue depths seem even more spectacular. “Did someone give you medicine for the pain while I was out searching for Abner?”

Dillie nodded. “The innkeeper’s wife gave me laudanum.” She glanced at her sprained foot. “She said it would ease the throbbing.”

“Damn it.” He was on his back, Dillie nestled into the crook of his arm, her arm thrown over his chest as she snuggled beside him. He eased her off him and rose slightly to face her. “Here’s one of my rules,” he growled, putting his weight on one elbow to prop himself up. “I’m not bedding you until the damn medicine wears off. Then you can ask me again. I won’t say no. I’ve wanted you in my arms, in my bed.
Naked
and in my bed, longer than I care to admit.”

“Me, too. That’s how I’ve always felt about Good Ian. But everyone keeps saying there’s a bad side of you. Even you think so.” She shook her head slowly. “I know my mind’s a little fuzzy, but I still want to know. What did you do that was so awful? Why do you hate yourself so?”

Great, he was about to bare his soul to a slip of a girl who’d been drugged and now lay injured in bed beside him. Would she remember any of their conversation once the drug wore off?

“I didn’t take any of the laudanum yet,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. “I wanted to keep my head as clear as possible. I’m still a little muddled, but that’s because of the bump on my brow. I’ll take my medicine afterward.”

“After you’ve had your answers?”

“I’d like those, but no. After you’ve had your way with me. And since this will likely be the most memorable moment of my life, I don’t want to be too drugged to remember it clearly.”

He fell back and sighed. The girl had him turned upside down, twisted in knots. “Does this mean we’re done talking?”

“Heavens, no. Your ordeal isn’t nearly over. You haven’t told me anything that I didn’t know already. Oh, you did tell me that your nightmarish event happened when you were only four years old.” She propped up on her side, resting on her own elbow as she faced him. “I suppose it counts as a secret. Now I owe you a sexual favor. Name it, Ian.”

“No. I thought we’d ended your silly game. You’re playing with fire, Dillie. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“We did end it, but I thought it important to try again for your sake. You need to talk about what happened. You can’t carry the pain inside of you forever.”

“Yes, I can. I’ve managed to do it all these years.”

“No, you haven’t. You’re the unhappiest man I know.” She shrugged when he didn’t respond. “Have it your way. I’ll play with myself.”

He groaned. Yes, that would be a great sexual favor, watching her touch herself... rouse herself. Watching her run her fingers over the engorged tips of her firm, pink breasts. Watching her writhe as she stroked the sensitive nub that lay between her thighs until she was wet and hot and ready for him. The thrill would stop his heart.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I think I just took my sexual favor.” Laughing at her confusion, he drew her atop him so that her splendid breasts, and their soon-to-be-engorged tips—for real, next time—were pressed to his hot skin. The nightshirt was still between them, of course. It wouldn’t be for long. “Your turn.”

“I want to ask you more about your brother.”

“Not yet, Dillie,” he said quietly. “Please.”

She studied him a long moment, and then nodded. She rolled off him and nestled once more in the crook of his arm, shifting and squirming until she was once again comfortable. She turned away from him so that they were almost spooned, her back to his front, and then turned again, apparently preferring to face him. She was like a kitten in his arms, squirming this way and that until she found the right spot.

She smiled as she trailed her fingers softly across his bare chest. “Your skin is like gold silk. You’re all muscles and silk, Ian.” She ran her thumb across his taut nipples. “And the gold hairs across your chest shimmer like rays of sun striking the water.”

His body jerked.

She smiled again, a devilish smile as she ran her tongue across one nipple in a slow, sensual circle.

He let out a low, throaty growl. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Do you like it?”

Hell, yes.

“That’s how I lick the clotted cream off my strawberries.”

“I love strawberries. Clotted cream, too. My turn.” He eased her onto her back and ran his hand under her shirt.
His
shirt, she’d only borrowed it.

Dillie stayed his straying hand. “Not yet. It stays on until you tell me a big secret.”

“Or you change your mind.” He dipped his head to her breast, at the same time cupping it in his large hand. She had great breasts. The soft mound nicely filled his hand. He stroked his thumb lightly over her nipple, pleased when it quickly peaked. He took the hard tip into his mouth and used his tongue to tease through the crisp linen fabric.

He had a mouthful of the fabric. He wanted to taste Dillie’s skin, not the damn shirt. She shuddered, obviously not expecting the sensation, and arched toward him, scraping her fingers across his bare shoulders. “Ian, wait! Oh, blessed crumpets, stop!” She paused a beat, twisted her hands in his hair and held him to her breast. “No, don’t stop. Not yet.”

He swirled his tongue across her nipple.

“Wait!”

He drew back slightly, but did not remove his hand from her breast. Her heart was wildly pounding beneath his palm. She was excited, confused. This was her first time, so he was going to be patient. He didn’t wish to scare her. But so far, making love to Dillie was like playing with a wild ferret. Frustrating and unpredictable. “Dillie, we don’t have to do this.”

She groaned and laughingly kissed the top of his head, for her hands were still twisted in his hair and his head was at eye level to her breast. He liked the view. Would like it better without the shirt between them. “Yes, we do. I want to. Problem is, I don’t know what I’m doing. Will you help me, Ian?”

It took him a moment to catch his breath, for her casual kiss had sent him reeling. It was a careless, affectionate kiss. Gentle. Accepting. “I’ll help, but you must let me take control. You said earlier that you trusted me. Do you, Dillie?”

She let out a breathy sigh that ruffled his hair. “I do.”

Now, if only she would repeat those words when the minister read their vows.

“You can’t question me,” he warned.

Another breathy sigh. “I won’t.”

“Or talk at all.”

“But—”

“No talking. You just said you trusted me.”

“I still do, though I’m reconsidering,” she said with a teasing grin. But she had that Dillie tender look in her eyes, and her body was leaning toward his, so he knew that she wasn’t going to refuse him anything.

“One last thing. There is one word you can always say to me, and I’ll stop immediately. Just a simple no. All right?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He wasted no time in slipping the shirt off her body, his hands riding up her thighs, and then over her waist and higher to push the fabric off her slight shoulders until there was nothing to impede his view.

He let out a soft breath. She was perfect, soft and round in all the right places, yet sleek and firm wherever she should be.

He brushed his fingers over one nipple. It turned pebble-hard within a few strokes.

He tossed the shirt to the foot of the bed, not caring where it landed. He was too busy staring at Dillie. He even liked the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “Don’t cover yourself,” he whispered when she tried to draw the counterpane over her shoulders.

“But Ian—”

“Sweetheart, you’re beautiful.” He ran his hand through her long, damp hair, brushing it back so that it fell over her shoulders and across the mattress. He trailed his fingers along her soft, pink throat and downward over her breast. “Beautiful,” he repeated in quiet awe, and meant it with all his heart, for she had an innocent sensuality about her that he found irresistible.

He took her nipple into his mouth, and swirled his tongue over the smooth, peach-scented skin. He eased her flat on her back and carefully moved his leg between hers, always aware of her injury and the fact that she hadn’t taken anything to stem her pain.

When she tried to reach for him, he took her hands in one of his and pinned them over her head because he knew she’d otherwise distract him, asking what she should do and where she should put her hands to pleasure him. It wasn’t his turn to be pleasured. Not yet. He’d fly off like a cannonball shot from the massive cannon of a frigate if she touched him, he was that hard and ready.

He returned his attention to Dillie’s body, teasing and nipping and running his thumb over the now engorged bud of her breast, and then taking it into his mouth again and teasing some more.

“Oh, Ian. I’m tingling all over. Hot tingles.”

So much for not talking, but he didn’t mind. These were new sensations for her and he loved her innocent wonder and responsiveness. She wanted him, trusted him, and he didn’t wish to disappoint. That would come later, after they were husband and wife. Even if he managed not to muddle things, his family would do its best to destroy the marriage.

He didn’t know what would happen in the future, but tonight was his and Dillie’s.

He slid his hand between her thighs and gently dipped his finger into her moist opening, knowing she was ready for him. She gasped and arched her back as he stroked her hot, sweet core. “Ian, I want to touch you.” She struggled weakly to free her hands, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“No, sweetheart. Not yet.” He needed to taste and savor her first, to make her feel the wondrous sensation of passion. He wanted to watch her soar to the stars when she reached her ecstasy.

Afterward, he’d allow her to touch him. Hell, he couldn’t wait. But he would have to, for he knew his limits, and Dillie had him dangerously hot and wanting, too damn close to the edge. She would push him over the edge if she touched him now. Next time would be different. Next time, they’d soar together.

“Ooh, Ian.”

His mouth was on her breast and he could feel the wild beat of her heart against his lips. Her skin was deliciously hot and pink, so soft against his mouth. He stroked between her thighs and felt the pulsing throb of her nether regions as he teased her to mindless bliss. Dillie was eager and passionate, holding nothing back as she bucked against his fingers, her slender body undulating to the motion of his strokes.
“Oh! Oh, heavens! Ian!”

He loved the breathy moans emanating from low in her throat, loved the way she writhed against his hand and the frantic passion in her voice when she called out his name.
“Ian. Ian! Oooh!”