A Duke of Her Own

Page 62

No, the presence of desire. He wanted her.
Still.
It was something to think about. Gideon had always panicked after they made love, growing snappy and anxious.
Of course, he’d been just a boy, and it was years ago.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” He bit her ear, and not nicely either.
“It was so different,” she said.
The nip turned into a kiss. “Yes.”
She remembered suddenly. “Oyster?”
He didn’t need to look so he must have already checked. “He’s still asleep. How much does that dog sleep?”
“Most of the day. Every moment that he’s not running in circles.”
They should return to the house. People might be wondering whether they were. Lisette might notice…No, Lisette wouldn’t notice. But someone else might.
“We should move,” she whispered. His cheek was just beside hers, and he smelled potent and male, so she ran her tongue carefully over his skin. He tasted wonderful.
“You’re right,” Leopold said.
Some tiny part of her heart registered disappointment. Of course he was right. Gideon had always been right, too.
But standing straight just meant that she was in full contact with his body. And at least part of him was interested in…
“Moving is my favorite activity,” Leopold said, low and easy. “Are you going to look at me any time soon, princess?”
She had barely met his eyes since they made love. It was too embarrassing. And too frightening, if she admitted it to herself. She didn’t want to see awe in his eyes, didn’t want to see acknowledgment that she was some sort of amazing courtesanlike woman.
Even though somehow she was. Apparently.
She was starting to feel a little sick. Who knew it would be so depressing to make men happy?
“Hey.” There was a soft growl in her ear and a strong hand pulled her face around. Leopold was frowning down at her. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
He kissed her, quick and fierce. “Tell me.”
“No.” She couldn’t tell him. He would think she was mad. He might even laugh at her.
“Stubborn wench.” With one swift movement he swung her into his arms and started walking over the rocks.
“Where are you going?” she gasped, holding onto his arm. “I’d prefer to walk. I’d like to put my clothes back on now. My clothes!” She looked back. “We left my chemise on the rock.”
“We don’t need it,” he said, climbing out of the river.
“I need it!” she said indignantly. “Will you please put me down now? I must collect my clothing.”
He laid her flat on her back in the soft grass, and followed her down so quickly that she could hardly twitch before his body was covering hers.
“You said we should move,” he reminded her. It was now clear what kind of moving he had in mind.
“No, thank you,” Eleanor said, smiling but determined. She’d had enough of being everybody’s favorite doxy for the moment.
He almost let her up, but then suddenly pushed her down again. “No.”
“No?”
“You’re going to have to tell me what went wrong in that head of yours, or I’ll never let you go back to the house. I’ll have to keep you here.”
She giggled. “Keep me here? On the riverbank?”
“Exactly.” He wasn’t the sort of man who changed his mind. And it didn’t really matter, after all.
So she just blurted it out. “I know that I’m different from other ladies. And in some ways I’m grateful, but in other ways it all seems rather tiresome.”
“Different in what way?” He let her go and rolled to the side, grabbing his breeches off a rock. His gray eyes weren’t even sympathetic. He wasn’t a sympathetic sort of man.
“You said I wasn’t the Whore of Babylon, but sometimes I feel as if I am.”
“Really?” That interested him. But she could see amusement too, in the gleam of his eyes under his eyelashes. It wasn’t fair that a man should have such thick, dark lashes when she had to put black stuff on hers.
“I can’t describe it,” she said dispiritedly, sitting up. “I really must put my clothing back on, Villiers.”
His scowl was so potent that she actually recoiled. He threw his breeches back down again.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a second’s pause. “Leopold.”
“Leopold all the time, Eleanor. Never Villiers, to you.”
“Leopold,” she said gently, “you’re marrying another woman. And I’m marrying Gideon.”
He lay down and pulled her over, onto his body. He was so hot that she involuntarily shivered. “Then tell me what the hell you’re thinking about,” he growled. “Tell me and then we’ll go off and live our perfect lives with our perfect spouses. Have you realized that we’re both marrying extraordinarily beautiful people?”
She gave him a lopsided smile. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“We are. Golden girls and boys, as Shakespeare has it.”
“Is that one of the sonnets? I’m just reading them for the first time.”
“No, it’s from a play. Golden girls and boys all must, like chimney sweepers, come to dust. I’ve always thought it was a good motto for a duke to keep in mind.”
“So you count yourself among the golden boys?”
“Not when it comes to beauty.”
“But dukes are golden,” she said. “I see that.”
“Strip away the title and I’m as brutish as a chimney sweep. People like Astley carry their nobility on their face.”
“Is that why you dress so extravagantly?” Eleanor asked. She was oddly balanced on his body, her breasts squished into his chest, her elbows on either side of him. But she was comfortable.
“No,” he said slowly. And then: “Perhaps. But you were going to confess your dark fear that you’re really the ducal version of a palace whore. And I have to admit that I’m really curious.”
He was laughing again, if only with his eyes, so she leaned down to give him a reproving nip, but they started kissing and somehow she lost track of her chastisement. She only slowly came back to herself, from that heated, tender place his kisses took her.
“I feel like a doxy,” she said to him, not even whispering. “I lured Gideon into making love all those years ago, you know. I made him do it.”
“You would have had to, given that he takes himself so seriously. Too much attention to manners turns a man into a judicious bore,” Leopold said, pushing her so she was sitting on his stomach. “I’m listening breathlessly, but meanwhile, if you felt like edging back just a tad?”
She grasped what he was getting at and could feel her cheeks flaming. “Have you no shame?” she asked, curious, not reprimanding.
“Shame has nothing to do with it,” he said promptly. “Warn me some more about your seductive self, and meanwhile I’ll show you what I have in mind.”
“You make me sound so foolish,” Eleanor said, covering her face with her hands.
He pulled them down. “I shouldn’t make fun. You slept with the inestimably tedious Gideon, who doubtless credited you with every spark of passion that ignited between you. Because that way he could stop himself from feeling any blame.”