The Duke's Daughter (20 page)

Avery slammed the door shut behind him, closing out the storm. He threw the wooden latch into place.

He dropped the fishing basket onto the floor.

Lucy stood panting, struggling to catch her breath. She looked down at her clothes. Her boots and skirt were caked in mud. Her cloak clung like a drunk sailor to her skin. She was soaked to the bone.

Leaning against the door, slowly shaking his head, Avery had a thoroughly disapproving look on his face.

She recognised that same look from the night in the garden. Another statement of rebuke regarding her behaviour threatened from his lips. She willed herself to believe that she didn’t care.

‘I can’t understand how you could have been so oblivious to the storm,’ he said.

‘Me? You didn’t bother to come and tell me until it was already upon us. If you recall, I was rather busy trying to land that fish,’ she replied.

Frustration and anger coursed through her veins at this stubborn man. He wasn’t going to admit that he had also been caught off guard. So much for the soldier who had spent all those years living wild. A few months of good living in London and he had gone soft.

His hat was flattened to his head. The rain dripping from his coat formed a large puddle of water on the floor. From within his coat, he withdrew the sketchbook. The leather cover was wet. He opened it. A wry smile came to his lips and she heard him whisper, ‘Good. The pages are not ruined.’

Avery removed his hat and coat and hung them on a hook near the door. The rest of his clothes had not fared well in the rain. His shirt was plastered to his chest. The moment Lucy’s gaze dropped lower she forgot all about his shirt. His trousers looked as if they had been painted onto his legs, the muscles perfectly outlined. When she saw the hard bulge between his legs she swallowed.

‘You had better get out of those wet things,’ he said.

‘What?’ she stammered, her mind elsewhere.

‘Strip off your clothes,’ he commanded.

A thousand denials filled her head, but her lips would not speak them.

When Avery pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his naked, hairy chest, Lucy thought she would faint. She had never seen his whole upper torso naked before. She had only ever touched him in the dark, revelling in the tactile sensation of his skin and hair. Daylight added a whole new perspective to the landscape of his body.

He came to her and quickly removed her cloak. He hung it on the peg next to his coat.

‘Take the rest of your wet clothes off, while I get some towels to dry us both.’

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lucy to stand in front of the fire, trying to warm her rapidly cooling body. She bent down and added some more logs to the fire.

When Avery returned with an armful of towels, she heard him growl with frustration.

‘I thought I told you to get out of those clothes. Don’t catch your death just because you feel uncomfortable disrobing in front of me. I am your husband.’

They turned their backs to one another and removed the rest of their clothes. Pneumonia was a real threat if they allowed themselves to catch a bone-deep chill.

When she got to the point of only having a chemise between her and nakedness, Lucy stopped. Closing her eyes, she turned.

‘Would you please pass me one of the towels?’ she asked.

She wrapped the towel around herself. It was enough to cover most of her torso, but her legs were left naked. She frowned at the prospect of Avery seeing this much of her body.

Behind her Avery chuckled.

‘It’s not the first time I have seen a partly clad woman,’ he said.

Lucy steeled herself for more of his unhelpful comments and turned back to face him. Avery had a towel wrapped around his waist, covering his midsection, but like her, the rest of his body was naked. He had even removed both his gloves.

Avery picked up a second towel from a nearby chair.

‘Come here, let me help you dry your hair,’ he said.

She hesitated before doing as he bade. Seated on a stool before the fire, she sat quietly as Avery ran the towel through her hair, sopping up the excess water. When her hair was dry enough to comb, he went into the bedroom and retrieved her hairbrush from her travel bag.

Seated behind her, he began to slowly, gently work out the knots and tangles. He hummed softly as he worked. It was a rhythmic cadence, rising and falling with the stroke of the hairbrush.

Lucy looked down at her bare legs. She should feel embarrassed at her lack of attire, but she didn’t think to ask for more clothes. Truth be told, she found the idea of them both being semi-naked rather alluring. If Avery could take the step of removing his glove, she in turn could sit still and let him play lady’s maid.

When Avery tenderly pulled a strand of her hair away from her face, she felt her breath catch. He was close. Her every breath took in the warm scent of his cologne. Slowly but inexorably she found herself falling under his spell.

‘Did you get to draw the rock face?’ she asked, struggling to put her emotions back on an even keel.

‘No,’ he murmured. He brought another towel to her hair, drying off some of the water which had been released from his brushing.

‘Why not?’ she replied.

From where she had sat on the other side of the lake, occasionally observing him, Avery had seemed most industrious in his efforts with the sketch book.

‘Would you like to see what I drew?’ he said.

‘Yes please.’

He handed her the sketchbook. She carefully turned the pages, honoured that Avery had finally shared another piece of himself with her.

Pictures of Strathmore Castle and its inhabitants filled the first dozen or so pages. She recognised a very close likeness of her sister Emma.

‘I did that while she was sitting on the steps of the keep,’ he said, looking over her shoulder.

‘It’s very good. You really do have an eye for a portrait. You should show Clarice some of your work. She has an artist’s appreciation for these things.’

‘I don’t normally share my drawings with anyone else,’ he replied.

When she got to the last page, Lucy sighed. Avery hadn’t drawn the tor; instead he had created a detailed likeness of her. Very real and completely naked.

‘Oh, Avery,’ she whispered.

A soft, warm kiss was placed in the nape of her neck. A second kiss was soon followed by another. Avery blazed a trail of hot kisses down Lucy’s neck and over her shoulders. He lowered the towel and she heard the brush drop onto the floor.

He blew a sultry breath into her ear as he traced a single fingertip down her spine.

She shivered.

‘Come to bed, Lucy. Come to bed, wife.’

‘What about Edinburgh?’ she whispered.

Her heart beat loudly in her breast.

He shook his head. ‘I’m not going anywhere without you.’

She spun round on the small wooden stool and faced him. He took her face in his hands and his lips touched hers. A soft, enquiring kiss followed. She sensed he was waiting. Needing for her to yield to his silent entreaty. The little that she did know of Avery, she understood he would not move matters forward until he had her complete surrender.

‘Yes,’ she said.

She prayed he had not heard the undertone of pleading in her voice. She reached down and took a tender hold of his damaged hand. He began to pull away, but as their gazes met he stopped.

‘Sorry, force of habit,’ he said.

‘No more secrets between us,’ she said. In this she would tolerate no argument.

He nodded.

She raised his hand to her lips, placing loving kisses on the fingertips and the scars. He brushed her hair back behind her ear and leaned in once more.

‘Come,’ he murmured.

As he rose, he drew Lucy to her feet. In his eyes, she saw the passion and hunger she had yearned to know. He cupped her face in his hands and their lips met once more.

As his tongue swept inside her mouth, her thoughts fled back to that moment in the garden at Strathmore House. The echo of passion and need in Avery’s kiss betrayed him. He
had
wanted her that night; she no longer doubted it.

Seized by this magnificent revelation, she offered him her mouth unreservedly.

He held her close; only the thin fabric of the towels separated their naked bodies. Their tongues danced a heated, carnal waltz, more in time with one another than ever before. Over and over Avery worked his sensual magic on Lucy’s lips. Time stood still.

She was locked deep in his embrace, exulting in his unrestrained desire for her when she felt Avery’s hand slip between them and pull the towel away.

The cool night air kissed her naked skin.

Avery released her from the kiss and took a step back. She watched as his gaze roamed over her body. An appreciative groan rose in his throat. Lucy closed her eyes as a heated blush burned on her cheeks and neck.

Avery chortled.

‘Open your eyes, Lucy.’

When she did, she saw his towel had also been stripped away. He stood before her in all his male glory. Her gaze immediately settled on that part of his anatomy which was large, hard and very erect.

Oh my dear Lord.

Her trembling fingers found their way to her lips. What was it her mother had said about the marital act? All the images she had seen in Millie’s erotic Indian books filled her mind.

He smiled, sensing her shyness. A single tear snaked its way down her cheek. He wanted her. Her husband finally wanted her.

Avery traced a finger down her cleavage. He cupped one plump breast in his hand and gently rolled its nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Lucy felt a bolt of pleasure dart through her body. She shivered.

‘I should ever be grateful that I was left with at least some use in these fingers. As you can feel they come to good use,’ he said. She caught the wicked edge of his words.

At another time perhaps she would be possessed of the wit to reply to his jest, but here and now the words escaped her. With every second, they drew closer to the moment of truth. To that which she thought she would never know with him. She stood on the edge of one existence, poised to take the step into another world.

Outside the wind rattled at the windows. The rain lashed against the glass. Lucy involuntarily shivered at the thought of the freezing gale which was just outside the door. The light through the nearby window was now dimmed as black clouds covered the sun.

It was barely past noon, but outside it was as dark as night. No one would be coming or going to the Key this day.

‘We cannot allow you to get cold,’ Avery murmured. He placed his hands on either side of Lucy’s waist and made an attempt to lift her up. When his damaged hand failed to make a strong purchase, she slipped.

He swore under his breath, but she quickly whispered, ‘Let me help you.’

When he tried to lift her a second time, she jumped. With her legs wrapped around his lower back, he easily lifted her into a carrying position.

‘That’s the second time today we have managed to do something by working together. Let’s see if we can succeed with a third,’ he said.

Inside the bedroom, Avery tumbled Lucy onto the enormous bed. He trapped her beneath him and proceeded to kiss her senseless once more. She forced herself to concentrate on the kiss and not on Avery’s erection, which was pressed hard up against her thigh.

She reached up and touched the soft, black hairs on his chest. She had managed to capture a glimpse of them a few times before, when he didn’t think she was looking.

‘They are beautifully soft,’ she murmured, knowingly.

He chuckled. ‘Yes, I have noted your appreciation of my chest when you kiss me each night. I’m glad you like it.’

A sly grin appeared on his face.

‘How many times were you awake?’ she replied.

A raised eyebrow was all the answer she needed. Her nightly attentions had not gone unnoticed; he had been awake the whole time.

His reluctance to leave her at the last stop before Edinburgh now made a little more sense, but why then had he pressed to go forward with the divorce?

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

Nothing seemed certain to her mind.

‘To tell the truth, I don’t think I fully understand the situation myself. Which, for someone who claims to know his own mind as often as I do, leaves me facing a bit of a conundrum. What I will say for certain is that we are
not
getting a divorce. You are my wife and I am prepared to try and make the best of things with you.’

Lying cradled beneath his heated body, Lucy considered Avery’s words. They were not the most romantic she could imagine, but they were honest. If she and Avery were to make something of a future together, it was at least a beginning. And yet the sting of disappointment was ever-present.

She frowned. Lifting her arms, she tried to push him aside and sit up. Avery slid to one side, but as he did, he trapped her legs within his. Lucy was going nowhere.

‘You are doing it again,’ he said.

‘Doing what?’ she asked.

‘Thinking too much. Just let things be and see where they take us. I want you to trust me, Lucy.’

Taking her face in his hands, he covered her lips once more with a scorching kiss. He kissed her softly at first, but it quickly grew into a heated encounter which had Lucy curling her toes. His hand trailed over the curve of her hip and he pulled her hard against him. She kissed him back as the tempo of their engagement edged a notch higher.

Oh!

Her inner voice began to throw words of doubt into her mind.

This is all wrong. You don’t want him this way. Where is the grand declaration of love?

She teetered on the edge of self-destruction. One false step and she would surely topple into the abyss.

Lucy began to pull away, withdrawing from the kiss. Retreating to save her heart. With their lips now barely touching, she heard Avery’s growl. Like that of a wounded lion.

She looked into his eyes, as Lady Alice’s words rang in her ears.

‘
Anything of value has to be fought for and won. Do not give in.’