The Other Duke (10 page)

He rested his head on the edge of the table. “I’m going to hate this,” he said, tone muffled.

“Quite possibly,” she said, using a reassuring tone, even though she could offer little reassurance. She flipped through the invitations. “Lord and Lady Aldridge are a good example. He is an important earl.”

“But I’m a duke—do I not trump him?” he asked. “Or have I been desperately misinformed all these years?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his relentless teasing. “In rank, yes, of course you are above him. But your dukedom, if you recall, was until recently in financial ruin. It was why my father was able to convince Cyril’s father to arrange our match. That fact was common knowledge, and until you show them that you no longer leave the title in shambles, they will judge you for it.”

“And what sort of fellow is Aldridge?” he asked.

She tilted her head. “He is a bit older than you are, but not by much. I have met him and his wife a few times and they seem like solid people. Intelligent enough, without the foppery of some of the worst of the titled.”

Rafe shrugged. “Fine, respond in the positive to Aldridge. And pick two more of these invitations to respond positively to. You can teach me all about the invitees on our way to the events.”

Serafina glanced down at her stack of invitations and back up to him. “You do not want control?”

“Great God, no. I trust you to make the right decisions in the matter and I promise you I shall not complain. Much.”

She stared at him. In all the years she had been bound to Cyril, he had made it clear that there would be no decision made, not small nor large, in his household that would not be strictly overseen by him. To have control of any part her life with Rafe was rather…

Thrilling.

“I will do my best to pick hosts who you will like,” she said.

“Very good.” He pushed to his feet. “Now, all this planning has made me bored. Would you like to take a tour of my home?”

She blinked not just at his rapid change of subject, but at the way he leaned down, offering his hand to her. He smiled, and she found herself unable to do anything but take that hand and rise to her feet.

“Certainly,” she managed to squeak out as they stood, face to face, him looking down into her eyes. He wanted to kiss her, that much was plain. Shockingly, she wanted him to do just that, standing in the dining room where anyone could see.

It was odd that he could touch her in his bed, awaken her to pleasure, and yet having a conversation at his breakfast table, holding his hand in his dining room...those things felt more intimate. And if there was one thing she knew, she did not
want
an intimate or emotional connection with his man.

She wanted her freedom, so she had to be careful.

“What do you think?” Rafe asked an hour later, after they had toured the entire house save the damaged kitchen. He had saved his library for last, and now she stood amongst the books, looking around with eyes wide with wonder.

“It is magnificent,” she breathed.

He laughed. “The house or the library?”

“Both.” She smiled in return.

Those smiles were becoming more common now and more real. Serafina was without a doubt one of the most beautiful women he had ever encountered. But when she smiled and her face lit up? Well, there was no “one of.” She was simply the most exquisite creature who had ever walked the earth. And she was his.

At least in name.

He found his own smile falling. “Of course, any area of the household is yours to explore or utilize. The servants have all been told that you are the lady of the house and shall be treated accordingly.

“Likely why Lathem listened to
me
this morning,” she said with a wicked glint to her eyes.

Rafe feigned a scowl. “Yes. Apparently he is of a mind that the lady of the house rules the roost.”

He saw a shadow cross her face at that comment and frowned. Cyril’s abuse and her father’s belief that she was worthwhile only as a bargaining point had obviously scarred her.

He heard Lathem clearing his throat at the door and glanced over. The butler gave him a slight nod, and Rafe smiled and returned the motion. Lathem, as always, understood and slipped away.

“I have someone I would like you to meet,” Rafe said, turning back to find Serafina had edged over to the bookcase and was staring intently at titles, occasionally let her fingertip crest over the well-worn spines of his favorites.

“Meet?” she asked, abandoning the books to look at him in question.

“It turns out Annabelle’s maid has a sister in service. She trained to be a lady’s companion, but could not find work and has been in another household. I’ve had her brought here for a trial with you, just to fulfill the role as maid since you don’t have one. If you like her, wonderful. If not, then we will tell her it won’t work out.”

Serafina frowned. “But if she has left her current position, wouldn’t this trial period result in her being out of a job? I wouldn’t feel right putting her on the street.”

Rafe smiled at her attention to the situation of others. In his life, he had seen plenty of women of rank and privilege who didn’t think twice about those in their service. Certainly Serafina had not been taught to care for others by her father. It seemed to be simply in her nature.

“I will recommend her to a friend looking for a maid and she will be none the worse for the experience, I promise you,” he reassured her gently.

She nodded. “Then let us meet the young lady.”

He motioned to the door, and she followed him into the hallway and back through the house to the foyer. A young woman waited there with Lathem, a small suitcase at her feet.

“Your Graces, may I present Bridget King?” Lathem said with a nod to the maid.

Serafina stepped forward. As the two women began to talk, Rafe watched his bride rather than listened. The kind and open expression on her face obviously put the nervous maid at ease.

It was a funny thing. Less than ten days ago, he had not planned to wed, but here he was with a bride and he
liked
her. Not to mention that he wanted her. His body had been on edge for hours and now he wanted to proceed to his next lesson in pleasure and sin.

He moved forward when there was a lull in the conversation between the women. “Have you two come to any decisions?”

Serafina glanced up at him. “Woolgathering, were we?” she teased.

He laughed. “Most terribly.”

“Then allow me to enlighten you about what you missed,” she said. “Bridget will settle herself and then she will unpack my things in the lady’s chamber.”

“Excellent,” Rafe said, taking his wife’s arm with a slight nod to the new maid. “Take your time with that, Bridget.”

The maid smiled. “Of course, Your Grace.”

As Rafe guided Serafina to the stairs, she shot him a look. “What in the world are you doing?”

“I find I would very much like to be alone with you,” he said softly, close to her ear.

She did not resist, but he saw her eyes widen and heard the hitch in her breath that was as much fearful as anticipatory.

“It is the middle of the day, Rafe,” she said as her one and only protest.

He opened their chamber door and they entered together before he said, “Yes. And there is nothing better than a languid bit of pleasure with sun streaming through the curtains and casting the prettiest glow on a lady’s skin.”

He pushed the door closed as he spoke, slowly guiding her until her back was against the barrier. He bracketed her in with his arms and saw a flash of terror light in her eyes.

“Serafina,” he said softly.

She shook her head, her bottom lip trembling slightly. When she drew in a few ragged breaths, she managed to speak.

“I’m trying not to think of him,” she said, her voice broken.

He stepped back immediately, granting her the space she so obviously needed. She bent over, her hands braced on her knees as she sucked in air. He longed to touch her in that charged moment, to take her in his arms.

But he didn’t. Not only because he wasn’t sure that she would want that, but also because he hadn’t yet earned that right. He might not ever, considering the method of their marriage.

“Take your time,” he said, offering her the most comfort he could with his tone. “Breathe.”

She did so, and after a few moments, she stood up, her face pink with upset and embarrassment and her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But when you held me there—”

She broke off and Rafe filled in the gap. “You felt trapped.”

She nodded without speaking or meeting his gaze.

“And that reminded you of him. Something he did.”

She gasped, the sound painful in the quiet chamber. He turned his face at the sound of it, at the fact that he had made her feel that way even without meaning to do it.

“I will
never
hold you steady like that again,” he vowed, finally reaching out to touch her face.

Her gaze darted to his face, revealing her utter shock. “You won’t?”

“No,” he said. “That was what I meant by telling me what you don’t like. I would never want to cause you more pain.”

“Thank you.”

“Come, we can return downstairs.”

She drew back a fraction. “You don’t want to continue?”

His mouth dropped open at her question. “You cannot wish me to after this.”

She straightened her shoulders and looked at him evenly. “I would like to try, Rafe. I want to try.”

He stared at her in utter disbelief. Serafina might have those flares of fear, fear she had bloody well earned over the years, but she battled them admirably. She had a brave soul—that was becoming clear with every moment he spent with her.

“You’re certain?”

“Yes,” she said, and her voice was stronger.

“Then remember my promise, Sera,” he whispered as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers until she relaxed against him. “Only pleasure, no pain.”

She nodded as he took her hand and did not resist as he drew her toward the bed and the intimacies he intended to share with her there. Intimacies he hoped would help heal her, rather than inspire more painful memories.

Serafina could hardly breathe. At first that had been because of the memories that mobbed her, but now that those horrible thoughts had faded, her tight throat and elevated heart rate were for another reason.

Rafe. Rafe and the desire he inspired. Rafe and the safety he offered.

He slowly unbuttoned her gown. His gaze never left hers, even as his fingers worked along her spine. As her dress opened and he slid his hands beneath the fabric, she let out a soft sigh. His eyes went wide.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, caught up, yet again, in how gentle he was with her.

“Good or bad?” he asked, though he didn’t remove his hands from her flesh.

“Good,” she admitted with a blush. “Your hands are warm.”

He smiled, but his eyes went dark with his desire. A need she realized he had not yet fulfilled.

Would he now? Would he take her at last?

Her body tensed at the thought, not because she feared
him
and his touch, but because of the same kinds of memories that had been inspired by his pinning her to the door. And because she couldn’t believe that what Rafe had offered with his fingers was something she could feel with his big body stretching hers. What if she didn’t like it? Or what if she panicked?

“Stop terrifying yourself,” he whispered.

She started. “Are my thoughts so clear?”

He smoothed his hands across her back, and then pushed her dress forward so that it slid off her shoulders and gathered around her waist.

“I can’t read them exactly,” he said, his voice so soft and rhythmic. “But I can see they bring you no happiness.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her shoulders rolling forward a second time in further shame and defeat. “I try not to remember, I try not to think about before.”

He pressed his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face toward his. “You don’t
ever
need to apologize for the vile acts committed against you, Sera,” he said, his gaze turning from desire-filled to rage-filled in an instant. “I only ask for you to try to remember that you’re with me in this moment, not him.”

She shivered, staring up at Rafe. Rafe with his beautifully sculptured body, Rafe with his easy smile and laughing view of the world, Rafe who was gentle and tender with her.

“There is no comparison between you, I assure you,” she whispered as she reached out and pressed a palm flat against his chest.

He sucked in a sudden, broken breath and his pupils dilated with her touch. A thrill moved through her, despite her tangled thoughts. Touching him made him want her even more.
Her
, a woman he was forced to be with by these mad circumstances. Her, a woman whose past made her timid when it came to acts he likely could have performed willingly by a dozen other women.

And yet he still wanted
her
.

“Rafe,” she whispered.

He pushed her dress lower and it hit the ground around her feel with a swish of delicate fabric.

“Yes?”

She swallowed. “I don’t want to be a disappointment to you,” she admitted, her cheeks flaming with heat. “I know there are many other women who wouldn’t hesitate. Women who would have given you such pleasure already.”

His brow furrowed. “You think I have not experienced pleasure with you? Watching you soften to my touch, watching you orgasm for the first time, I promise you there was great gratification in that.”

“But you haven’t found your release,” she said, shifting with discomfort at that topic. “Cyril told me—”

He lifted a hand to gently cover her mouth.

“Cyril was full of horseshit,” he said. “Pardon my crude choice of words, but it is true. Yes, I would love to come inside of you, Sera. To have you milk my release from me with the quivering of your body. But we have all the time in the world now that we are wed. It
will
happen. And until it does, I am having a very good time exploring what makes you quake.”

She shivered at those erotic promises, and he smiled at her reaction. Then his smile faltered as he hooked his fingers around both her chemise straps and lowered them at the same time, exposing her body inch by inch until the silky undergarment joined her dress at her feet. He looked up and down her now-naked body with a possessive hunger in his eyes that made her stomach flip with a desire she’d never expected to feel.

Was it wrong to want him like this? Wrong to ache to have this man touch her and hope he could wipe away her ugliest memories?

If it was, Rafe never made her feel that way. His smile returned as he wrapped his arms around her, kissed her, lifted her into his arms to carry her to his bed. He set her on the high edge and leaned back to remove her stockings and slippers.

His hands glided over her thighs, her knee, her calf, and she trembled as the touch sent electric heat to settle between her legs. She had no idea what he would do next, but she was shocked to find that she wanted it, whatever it was. She wanted
him
.

He stepped away and caught the back of one of the chairs beside the fire. Without breaking his gaze away from her, he dragged it to the edge of the bed and settled into the cushion. She stared down at him, confused by his odd positioning.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He placed a hand on her bare knee and she sucked in her breath.

“Open your legs, Serafina,” he said, his tone low and hypnotic.

She blushed. From the way they were positioned, if she did as he asked, her most private areas would be right before him. There would be no hiding.

His fingers glided up her thigh and he massaged gently.

“Serafina,” he whispered. “Open your legs.”

She trembled as she followed his directive, trying to remind herself that this man had proven himself trustworthy, at least when it came to her body.

He practically purred as she opened for him and scooted closer, draping one of her legs over his shoulder. She stared at him, cheeks burning while she watched him examine her.

“So pretty,” he whispered. “So tempting.”

He looked up her body with a wickedness that only intensified the ache between her legs. He clenched her hips with both hands and slid her forward so that her backside nearly hung off the bed. She fell back on her elbows with a cry at the unexpected movement. Before she could voice any kind of protest, he dragged one finger across her sex.

Her body twitched with memory of what he had done with those magical fingers earlier in the day.

“Rafe—” she began, her voice shaky and broken.

“Good or bad?” he asked.

“Please,” she murmured, uncertain what she was asking for.

He smiled. “So good, then?”

He said nothing more, but he watched her even as he dropped his mouth lower, lower. Her eyes went wide. He couldn’t mean to—

His lips touched her with just a feather-light brush. The unexpected caress made her arch slightly, bringing her sex closer. He chuckled, the vibrations moving through her sensitive flesh and eliciting a moan from her lips that she hadn’t meant to express.

He nuzzled her with his mouth a second time, nibbling gently on the swollen outer lips of her body. She clenched her fists against the coverlet with a harsh groan, then looked down her body to watch what he would do next.

He was staring at her body, examining her most private areas like they were a beautiful piece of art. Or sweets, she supposed, since he was putting his mouth on her over and over. He gently spread her open, then leaned back down.

She tensed as his hot breath steamed over her tender flesh, making her ultra-aware of every fold and crevice of her sex. They were all alive at his touch, tingling and aching for something she had only just begun to understand.

“Please,” she murmured a second time.

He glanced up at her, his eyes dark with wanting and filled with wickedness and curiosity.

“As you wish.” Without another word, he brought his mouth firmly against her body.

This time it was an open-mouthed kiss he bestowed upon her sensitive, slick folds. His tongue darted out and he licked her entrance first gently, then with more force. She gripped the covers harder, swept away by the sudden intensity of the sensations. His fingers had been magic, but his mouth? That was something else.

It was as if her entire body had been suspended in water, making her weightless and unable to control how her body moved beneath Rafe’s ministrations. She arched and twitched when his tongue moved over her, her breath coming short and becoming moans and cries that filled the room.

And yet he offered her no respite. His mouth tasted her relentlessly, and finally he slipped up to lick the little bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. That place he had touched before to shatter her with pleasure.

His mouth only intensified that feeling and she felt the orgasm—Rafe had called it that name—building within her. She arched to try to reach it, and he laughed against her skin as he pressed against her hip with one hand, holding her steady.

“Don’t rush, Sera,” he murmured, nuzzling her gently. “I’ll take you there in due time.”

She gave a garbled moan that likely left Rafe with little question about her desperation. But he didn’t seem intent on torture, for he began to lick harder, faster, and she burned beneath him.

It wasn’t until she thought she could take no more, when she was weak and ready to beg, to offer him anything in trade for release, that he slipped a finger into her body. She hadn’t expected the breach, but didn’t stiffen because it felt so good to have him inside her. He pressed his lips to her, sucking hard as he stroked in and out with his finger in a maddening rhythm.

Unlike earlier in the day, when her orgasm had hit her suddenly and without her understanding what it meant, this time release came slow and steady, building higher and higher as she cried out and thrashed beneath him. He continued on, not releasing her from the prison of pleasure until she was spent with desire and flopped weakly against the mattress.

Only then did he rise from the chair, lick her juices from his fingers and reposition her on the pillows. But he made no move to undress, to take her. Once again, he simply claimed a spot beside her in his bed and tucked her up against him. He held her close as her heart rate returned to normal and she caught her panting breath.

“Did I prove myself right?” he asked from above her.

She leaned up to look at him. “Right?”

“Did I not promise you I could give you pleasure ever more intense?”

She swatted at him lightly. “You are, by far, the most arrogant and self-satisfied man I have ever met. So proud of yourself.”

He grinned. “I take that as a yes, then.”

She settled her head back against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. “Take it as you will, Raphael Flynn. You will gain no quarter from me.”

He leaned down a fraction and whispered, “That sounds like a challenge, Your Grace. And one I intend to meet.”

She laughed at his quip, but her stomach fluttered as wildly at his promises as it had at his touch. It was painfully obvious to see that she could easily lose herself in him if she allowed that.

And she would not,
could not
let that happen.