The Other Duke (20 page)

“Be careful what you wish for, Your Grace,” he said, his tone tense.

He dropped his mouth back to her and sucked her clitoris between his lips. As he began to lave her with his tongue, his fingers worked deep inside of her, stroking and curling, teasing and touching until he finally found a rhythm that drove her mad. In one stroke he would curl his fingers inside of her, in the next, he licked her clitoris, back and forth until her hips arched helplessly and her sex clenched around pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

And just when she thought she would possibly die from the tension he had created, the orgasm hit her.

She had come before, but it had never been like this. As Rafe continued to stimulate her with that relentless cadence, her body began to tremble, the trembles turned to quakes and the quakes to shuddering that seemed to move through her entire being. She lifted into him, screaming because she couldn’t control her voice, clinging to the bed covers because her clawing hands were out of her control.

He stroked on, watching her come from his position between her legs, his dark eyes filled with building desire that threatened to consume them both.

It was only when the bursts of pleasure faded slightly, when the tremors became occasional twitches, that he withdrew his fingers and his tongue and pushed to stand up.

She reached for him as he went, making a wordless sound of need that made him sway a fraction.

“I’m not leaving,” he reassured her. “I need to undress.”

She sat up on her elbows to watch him do just that, lazy desire ratcheting up as he divested himself of everything he wore bit by bit.

His body, always a draw to her, was even more appealing at this moment. She wanted to wrap herself around him, to rake her hands and teeth over him, to feel him pulse inside of her as he lost control like she had lost control.

When he was naked, he moved to cover her, supporting his weight on his hands. She opened further for him, allow him to settle between her legs, his hard cock nudging her soaking sex.

“My God,” he growled as he eased forward, taking her inch by hard inch until he was fully seated.

Her body was already ultra-sensitized by release and his invasion only intensified the sensations. Already she fluttered around him, on the edge of a second orgasm. She lifted, pushing to find that pleasure a second time, despite how spent she remained.

“You are a minx,” he moaned at her aggressive movements. “But this is mine today, mine to control.”

She stared up at him, uncertain what he meant. But then he slowly circled his hips and she let her eyes shut with a shuddering sigh.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice broken as he took her with slow, steady strokes. “Look at me, Serafina.”

Her eyes came open with the second, more strenuous order and watched his face. He strained with effort, the veins in his neck stretched and his cheeks red with exertion. Their eyes locked, and it was as if he had placed her in a prison, only it was a beautiful place she couldn’t escape.

In that moment, with his body stroking into hers over and over, their gazes locked, she had never felt so fully connected to him. So lost in him. So one with him.

It was terrifying, but she couldn’t pull away. Not just because of the pleasure building in her again, but also because this connection was so utterly magnificent.

The second orgasm mobbed her in that moment, and she whispered his name as her sex milked him. He gritted his teeth and groaned as he spilled his seed into her.

He pressed kisses along her neck as he collapsed next to her and dragged her into the crook of his body, so they were lying with his front to her back, cradled together like spoons. He said nothing, but continued to kiss her flesh, his arms around her in warmth and comfort.

After some time had passed, she felt his body relax and realized, with a start, that he had actually fallen asleep. Slowly, she turned to look at him, able to explore his face without his knowing it.

Relaxed in slumber, he seemed younger, and she couldn’t help but reach out to gently trace his lips with her fingertip. He smiled but didn’t stir.

She sighed as she thought of the dress he’d had made for her, waiting for her in her dressing room. He’d claimed that was the gift he had for her that day, but now she wondered.

Was the greater gift not the connection they’d shared while making love? Which was the more frightening? The gift that said that he knew her well or the connection which proved he did, despite her desperate attempts to keep him at arm’s length?

Either way, she had felt the shift between them and she wasn’t certain she was ready to face what that meant for her future.

“I think he is wooing me,” Serafina whispered as she looked across the crowded room toward Rafe.

He was standing with his brother. Crispin looked highly uncomfortable, but Serafina couldn’t help but be pleased he had heeded her suggestion and come to offer support to Rafe. No matter what she felt at present, she wanted her husband to be happy and at peace. Even if it couldn’t be with her.

Emma smiled at her side, blissfully unaware of Serafina’s thoughts. “Good. No one deserves wooing as much as you.”

She glared at her friend. “I don’t
want
to be wooed.”

“Of course you do,” Emma said with a wave of her hand. “All women do.”

“No, I do
not
.”

Emma let out a great put-upon sigh. “And why not?”

“You know why,” Serafina hissed, even as she offered a weak smile to the marchioness who said her hellos as she passed by.

Once the woman was out of earshot, Emma continued, “Because you refuse to have tender feelings for a man. Which made sense when it was awful Cyril, but Rafe is different.”

“I know, which makes my reticence all the more reasonable,” she said with a shake of her head.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to explain that logic,” Emma said with a laugh.

“Rafe is a rake who was forced into this position. He may have some…” Serafina struggled for a word that would express the changes she was so desperate to ignore. “He may have some tender feelings toward me, but do I really want his affection due to pity for my past or out of gratitude for my help in his transition to being duke?”

“Do you really think that is his only motivation for how he behaves toward you?”

Serafina could hear the disbelief in Emma’s voice, but ignored it. “What else could it be? We have known each other less than a month, and while I admit that our physical connection is—”

She stopped as another lady hesitated in front of them. “Your Grace,” the woman cooed. “That yellow is divine on you.”

Serafina managed a nod as she glanced down at the gown Rafe had ordered for her. She did love it and had never felt so beautiful, inside
and
out, as she did when her maid helped her into it that night. Bridget’s oohs and ahhs had only exacerbated her feelings about the dress.

“Oh, thank you so much, my lady,” Serafina managed to squeak out.

The woman squeezed her hand and moved away.

“Who was that?” Emma asked.

“I don’t even know,” Serafina whispered. “
This
is how distracted I am—I cannot even recognize a peer when I was forced to memorize the name, title and often the circumstances of everyone around me for years.”

“That sounds awful,” Emma said with a shake of her head.

“It was,” Serafina agreed.

“Then perhaps it’s best that your husband distracts you so much that you cannot recall those things. He doesn’t
expect
you to know them.”

“He
should
. He needs me to know them more than Cyril ever did.” Serafina sighed. “My focus should be on helping my husband become accepted and comfortable as duke. And it should be on moving into a new home and starting my life.”

“I think you already have,” Emma said softly, her gaze moving toward Rafe.

“Well, I can’t do
that
, don’t you understand?” Serafina shook her head. “He found out I liked Madeira, so he had the best sent from Portugal. I have a
case
of Madeira, Emma. What do I do with it?”

She laughed. “Drink it. Though not all at once, I think.”

Serafina stared at her friend. How could Emma be so dismissive? Couldn’t she see how desperate the situation was?

“There are flowers in my dressing room every day.”

“Every woman likes flowers,” Emma said.

Frustration mounting, Serafina said, “He bought me this gown I’m wearing right now.”

“And you have never looked so lovely. The color suits you in every way.”

Serafina huffed out her breath. “Two days ago, I was given a new book from the shop and a hairbrush decorated with what I sincerely hope are paste sapphires because they reminded him of my eyes.”

Emma’s face had softened. “Everything you are telling me is so romantic.”

Serafina narrowed her eyes. “You are not helping.”

“I don’t know how I can help you,” her friend said. “You don’t want what he is trying to offer, though I think you are a fool not to take it.”

“What, jewels and baubles?”

Now was Emma who pursed her lips to express her frustration. “
Love
.” Serafina flinched, but didn’t interrupt as Emma continued, “He is watching you right now, my dear.”

Serafina jerked her head to look and found that Emma was correct. Rafe tracked her every move and when he met her eyes, he smiled at her in a way that made her heart all but skip a beat.

“I will tell you that the expression I see on his face is not one of pity or gratitude, but love,” her friend continued.

Serafina swayed slightly and gripped Emma’s shoulder to keep from collapsing at that statement she had been trying to avoid for days.

“He can’t love me,” she whispered.

Emma steadied her further. “No, I’m afraid that isn’t true. You may not want him to love you, but he most definitely
can
—and I think he does.”

“Well, I don’t love him,” Serafina whispered, and hated how false the words sounded when she meant them so deeply.

“Are you certain?” Emma hesitated as a gentleman passed them by with a brief hello that they both answered in unison. With a frown, Emma caught her hand and drew Serafina away to a quieter corner of the ballroom. “Are you certain you feel nothing for the man?” she repeated softly.

“Of course! How can you ask me?” Serafina whispered on a broken breath.

“I ask because when you are with him there is a light in you that I’ve never seen before. Anyone within ten feet of you can feel the connection between you. And it isn’t just a physical attraction, but something deeper and more important.”

“That isn’t true,” Serafina said.

Emma arched a brow. “Very well. Then perhaps I don’t believe you are immune to his considerable charm because you have wanted so much to have your own home and yet you continue to live in Rafe’s house with him.”

Serafina froze. “He—he is looking for a new home for me. Until he has something—”

“Is he?” Emma interrupted. “Have you spoken to him about it recently? Has he asked your opinions on anyplace he has seen or taken you to see if you would like to live there?”

She sucked in a breath. She’d been so wrapped up in…well, in
him
that she hadn’t had a frank conversation with him about the standing of her house hunt. He’d mentioned it to his family nearly a week before, but Emma was utterly correct that the subject had hung, unaddressed, between them since then.

“I will speak to him about it,” she said, suddenly numb as she glanced across the room to him again.

Rafe continued to chat with his brother, but he continued to occasionally glance at her from the corner of his eye. She felt every look like a stab to her soul.

Emma took her hand. “Please don’t be rash, Serafina,” she whispered. “I understand your fears, I truly do, but to throw away love…you
will
regret it.”

Slowly, Serafina extracted her hand from her friend’s and shook her head. Emma couldn’t be right. She didn’t want to love Rafe or have Rafe love her. She wanted her freedom, her independence. Didn’t she?

The situation was confused, but she had to recall all her very good reasons to keep her life separate from his. She couldn’t let his physical seduction make her believe in a silly future that could never come to be.

“No, Emma. I’ll regret it if I allow myself to believe that a fairytale could be true. It is better to embrace reality now and save everyone further heartache later. Excuse me.”

She turned and began to walk toward her husband. She heard Emma softly calling her name, but ignored it, focusing instead of Rafe and what she would say when she reached him. She could hardly think, hardly breathe, and there was a lump in her throat that she didn’t wish to think about as she struggled for strength in the face of unexpected desire.

How could this have happened? How could they have come to this when they had planned a loveless marriage so carefully?

“Good evening, Serafina,” Crispin said as she reached the men.

She tried to force a smile for her brother-in-law, but could hardly manage it as her gaze slipped to Rafe. “H-hello Crispin, I’m so glad to see you here,” she stammered.

Rafe tilted his head and examined her face closely. “Are you well?”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. I only wished to speak to you alone for a moment, if we could. Perhaps we could find privacy on the terrace?”

Rafe’s face lit up with pleasure, but she saw Crispin frown from the corner of her eye. It was as if her brother-in-law knew she was driven to refuse whatever advances Rafe had recently been making.

And despite all the acceptance Rafe’s family had promised, she could not imagine they would continue to like or support her if…when…she hurt him.

“Of course,” Rafe said as he offered her an arm. “Will you excuse us, Crispin?”

His brother murmured something appropriate, but Serafina barely heard the words. She only felt his stare on her as Rafe escorted her across the room and out the double doors onto the terrace outside. As he released her and shut the doors behind them, she sucked in a great gulp of air.

“I admit, I rather like that you desire to be alone with me, Serafina,” Rafe said, moving toward her with lazy seduction in his eyes.

She stared at him. Crispin had obviously sensed her discomfort, the impending doom of her request, and yet Rafe was blissfully unaware. Which made this situation all the worse.

“Rafe,” she said, backing away so that he couldn’t get her in arm’s length. If he touched her, she might convince herself that this conversation could wait.

And it couldn’t. At least, she had felt so strongly that it couldn’t up until this moment when fear and regret gripped her.

He stopped moving and a frown creased his face. “What is it?”

She cleared her throat. “I wanted to discuss where we stand with my separate home.”

His brow wrinkled and his desire faded a fraction. “You brought me out to the terrace in the midst of a ball to discuss your house?”

She nodded, although when he put it that way, it did sound strange. “I had a realization when talking with Emma that we had not reviewed the topic for some time. I thought it best to broach the subject immediately.”

His lips pursed slightly. “I see.”

There was a long silence between them that made Serafina shift with discomfort. “So what is your response?”

“I have an agent seeking out homes on my behalf,” he said, waving off the topic.

“And?” Serafina urged when it seemed that would be his final word on the subject.

Rafe huffed out a sigh and walked passed her to the terrace wall. He looked out over the garden rather than at her as he said, “Thus far none of the available options have suited either the agent or myself.”

“So you
have
looked at homes,” she said.

He swallowed, and the way he looked at her from the corner of his eye told her the story. “No.”

She gripped her fists at her sides. Panic had begun to squeeze her chest.

“Then perhaps I should be the one to search. After all, this home will be mine. It isn’t fair that you should have to determine what will best suit my taste and needs.”

“I have not done so badly so far, have I?” he asked, looking pointedly at her gown.

She felt heat rise to her cheeks and turned her face. “You have been kinder than I could ever have hoped for,” she admitted. “But—”

He moved toward her a step. “But what? Why rush into a new home, Serafina? Are we not getting along well?”