A Duke for the Road Page 11

  She looked down at her hands. “When you kissed me. . .”

  “Yes?” he prompted softly.

  “I have never felt like that.”

  “Nor I,” he confessed.

  “What if I never feel like that again?”

  It was so tempting to promise her she would, but he found he could not lie to her. For their kiss had been so much more than just an exchange of lips. It had been earth shaking. Awakening.

  “It was. . .” Despite his intention, his gaze lingered on her lips. “It was a thing of chance.”

  “Kiss me again then,” she whispered.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, lifting his gaze to her wickedly intelligent eyes.

  “To see if it was just chance.”

  Bloody hell, he knew logically what he should do. He should stay on his side of the coach, his hands to himself. And yet, the very possibility of kissing her again was compelling and suddenly, he wondered. . . had the kiss been just an odd fluke?

  If he kissed her now, would they be consumed in the same fire as before?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter 16

  The moment Rob decided to kiss her, Harry shivered with anticipation. It was there in his hot gaze. His eyes shone with hunger and desire darkened his face.

  It was the most thrilling sight she’d ever beheld and she longed to see it for the rest of her days.

  He leaned across the coach and slid his arms about her waist. She let out a cry of surprise and as he pulled her over onto his lap.

  Unapologetically then, he tilted her head back, his thumb tracing her jaw.

  “You are going to drive me mad, woman.”

  “They say it can be pleasant,” she whispered, loving the feel of being cradled against his hard body. “Madness.”

  He growled softly then. Without thinking, she held on to him, determined not to be passive in this kiss. For, this was her last chance to have this with him, if what he said was true.

  She gazed up into his eyes. “Let this be a moment that neither of us forgets.” She slid her hand to the nape of his neck, her gloved fingertips caressing his dark hair and urged his lips towards her.

  He needed no encouragement. His mouth swooped down to hers in a wicked kiss. His hold tightened as his hands roved her back and waist. Her reason slipped away on a tide of fiery hunger. With every moment, the kiss deepened, intensified, until her eyes fluttered entirely closed and she was lost to sensation.

  The feel of his coarse hair against her fingers was delicious and his hard strength against her torso was hypnotic, as was his spicy scent which only drove her further down the path of abandon.

  His tongue teased her lips and to her amazement, she parted them. Slipping his tongue into her mouth, she gasped then tentatively met his tongue with her own. Her boldness seemed to drive him wild. For his kisses tossed her higher and higher in bliss, as if she had been lost to a storm of pure pleasure and there was no going back.

  Thought gave way as her hands, of their own instinct slid down his back, and she arched her body against his.

  His strong hand stroked her rib cage then covered her breast.

  She moaned against his mouth.

  Easily, he flicked her cloak over her shoulders then pressed open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

  Her head dropped back as he nibbled the delicate skin of her arched throat. Holding him as if she was certain he might slip away at any moment, she did not draw back as he caressed the exposed curves of her breasts with his lips.

  This. This was bliss. Heaven. It was what she had been waiting for her whole life. How could anyone turn away from this?

  So, she smiled as his hand slipped to her skirts. She thought nothing of it as his hand cupped her calf and slid upward. Having been bold her entire life, going back never occurred to her. For once she set her feet upon a path, there was no retreat. Only discovery.

  His fingers slid between her thighs.

  She knew about this. She’d read about it in novels. Her upbringing had not been sheltered as many young women. Yet, the thorough education she’d received from her progressive mother had not prepared for the sudden shock of his strong fingers stealing upward, to the softest part of her thighs then circling over the most sensitive part of her body.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulders, the immediate pleasure was so intense.

  She could hardly make sense of what was happening except that she wanted it. Wanted him.

  There was nothing for it. Rob felt right. He was the one her heart called for, her heart which could always be relied upon to set her in the right direction.

  Yes, he was the one who would awaken her and she could imagine nothing better.

  As his mouth covered hers again, swelling her moans of pleasure as he teased her to a place she had only ever imagined, she crashed upon an unknown shore.

  Trembling, smiling, she breathed him in as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. Now, in this moment, she knew exactly what she wanted. And what she wanted was him and the feeling of absolute rightness that she had never felt with anyone else in her entire life.

  After months, hell years, of holding himself on a tight rein, the control he’d kept himself under vanished. It utterly fled and the sight of her pleasure only drove him further into his madness. And she’d been correct. This madness was pleasure. So damned pleasurable.

  The wild need that owned him now took over his every action and all he could see and hear was her own need. Her own desire. For him.

  This was a taste of pure joy. Of escape. And he could no more turn from it than he could turn back the setting of the sun.

  So, as he stroked her, his fingers caressing the wet heat between her legs, that wetness a sign of her desire for him. He adjusted her on the cushioned seat, sliding her skirts further up her thighs until they pooled at her hips.

  Given the thin silk, they shimmied up easily to her waist. Her chemise was no barrier to her core and he pulled her to straddle his lap.

  At any moment, she could resist or turn away.

  She did not.

  In fact, she grabbed hold of him, her eyes wide, chest lifting and falling in rapid breaths.

  Barely with a thought, his fingers worked his breeches free and his cock freed from the tight fabric to rest between her thighs.

  He groaned. Perfection. She was perfection.

  And her face, her beautiful face, with her mischievous eyes looked down upon him, expectant.

  Slowly, he rested his hands on her hips and angled her so that he rested against her slit.

  Her eyes widened as he began rocking against her.

  “Tell me to cease,” he breathed as any sense of right, or duty, or reason abandoned him. “Tell me.”

  “I—I cannot tell you what I do not wish.”

  And with those words, whatever last shred of reticence vanished and he thrust into her delicious, tight, heat.

  A cry tore from her lips and she tensed against him.

  Panting, she moaned. “It hurts.”

  And then, the entire world stilled as the enormity of what they were doing crashed down upon him.

  Of course it hurt. She had never done this before and, somehow, he had allowed himself to throw away all consideration for the repercussions of this. All because he had been holding on so tight, for so long, that once he’d let go he’d lost all sense of self.

  But there was no way around this now. He’d gone too far and there was no going back.

  So, he held himself still and held her gaze.

  “Harry,” he said softly, determined not to ruin this for her. “Kiss me.”

  “Pardon?” she panted, straining against him.

  “Kiss me,” he urged as he stroked his hands gently over her lower back then along her thighs, trying to ease her tension.

  Slowly, a little at a time, she began to relax and she did indeed kiss him. She kissed him as if she owned him and that both terrified and possessed him. With the tangl
e of their lips and tongues, once again, she sighed, leaning into him.

  The feel of her body pressed against his, of their oneness, took hold of him. And all he could think of was being with her completely in this moment.

  And as he rocked against her, his fingers sliding between their bodies, teasing her. She moaned with need.

  His own hunger began to wind him tighter and tighter. As soon as he felt her muscles tighten around him, he gasped her name and, at the very last moment, he pulled free of her. Ecstasy unlike he’d ever known blazed through him as he came against her thigh.

  As the waves of it washed over him, the pleasure gave way to dread. For to his horror, despite the perfectness of their bodies together, he’d allowed passion to rule his decision and that was the very worst thing he could have ever done.

  Chapter 17

  The coach rolled to a halt and Harry jolted. Everything had changed in a few moments. She had changed. She was different now than she had been before. And it was both wonderful and frightening.

  It was a heady mix of emotions.

  Quickly, she slipped off his lap and tugged her skirts into place.

  He, too, rapidly put himself to rights and then he looked at her.

  Instead of affection, she saw horror on his beautifully handsome face.

  That one look shook her to her core.

  For it was very clear that they had had very different reactions to their experience.

  She? She’d felt transported and closer to him than she ever had to anyone in her life. He?

  He looked like a condemned man.

  She swallowed, horror stricken now herself as the reality of all this tumbled down on her.

  “I—” The muscles of his throat worked as he clearly struggled for words.

  “I won’t make you marry me, if that’s what you fear,” she said quickly, hating that it was the first thing she said after having been so close to him.

  He winced, pain darkening his gaze. “Harry—”

  “No.” She shook her head, her curls spilling about her face. “I can see that you are afraid.”

  “I am afraid,” he confessed, his voice rough. “But not for the reasons you might think.”

  “Oh?” she asked, wary.

  “Harry, I’m not a good man.” He swallowed. “Not the way you think. I’ve just proved it. And. . . no doubt, I will keep proving it. But I will marry you. Even so, I will never be able to give you what you almost certainly wish.”

  She closed her eyes, hating the resignation in his voice. Hating how something so beautiful could so quickly become ugly. “I don’t—”

  “You don’t wish to marry me now, do you?” he asked softly.

  “No,” she agreed. “Because I can see how clearly you don’t wish it.”

  He grimaced. “It’s not about you, Harry.”

  “Oh no?” She let out a dry, uncomfortable laugh. “It certainly feels like it.”

  “If things were different, if I was different, I cannot imagine anyone I’d rather marry than you,” he said quietly.

  Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. She was stronger than that. Besides, she refused to regret what had happened. “Then why—”

  “Because,” he bit out, “I know what I must do with my life and you will only be hurt if you are in it. Do you wish children, Harriet?”

  She stared at him, wondering if he’d lost his wits. “Of course.”

  “You love your family and so wish one of your own?” he continued, his face taut with agony.

  “Certainly.”

  “Well, I must tell you,” he leveled her with a firm stare, “I will never have children.”

  She let out another sharp laugh but as she took in his stubborn face, her laugh dimmed. “You’re not in jest.”

  He shook his head. “I do not wish children.”

  “But. . . but you’re a duke,” she protested. “You must have children.”

  “There is no must about it. The Blackstone line will die with me.”

  She blinked, trying to take his words in and failing. “I don’t understand—”

  “You don’t need to,” he said softly. “I’ve already proven that I am no better than. . .”

  “Better than?” she prompted, a feeling of panic and pain sweeping over her as he drifted further and further away from her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he bit out, looking away.

  “It does matter. Don’t you understand?” She longed to seize his hand, to kiss it, but he was so distant she dared not do it. “You matter. I matter. What has happened between us matters.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

  She tensed, refusing to let him apologize for this. “Don’t you dare. I chose this. This isn’t something you did. We did this. It is you who is making it something less. Not I.”

  “You’re right,” he replied, his voice hollow. “I am, indeed, at fault. All the more reason for this to end while you can still save yourself.”

  “Save myself?” she echoed, her heart aching for him. “From you?”

  “You should go now,” he answered, which was no answer at all. “Before we draw notice.”

  “And we mustn’t do that, must we?” she replied tightly, hating the cool note in her voice.

  He pounded on the roof. The crunch of gravel filled the air as the footman jumped down and walked around to the door.

  She gathered her cloak about her, stunned. There were no tears, no rage, only shock. She’d never imagined that she would have made love to him tonight. And she never would have imagined that it would end like this.

  “Harry,” he said abruptly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  She arched a pale brow at him. “I’m not certain it’s me you’ve hurt the most. . . Your Grace.”

  His face paled at her dismissal. As soon as the door opened, she swept down to the pavement then marched up to her family home, uncertain how she was going to let him go, but knowing that she must.

  Before the coach could roll away, Rob leaned forward, transfixed by her proud and bold departure as she strode, head held high, up the steps. And as he peered through the open door, his gaze drifted to the windows and he saw a face.

  A face as familiar as his own and in that moment, as Harley’s eyes flashed with rage, Rob knew any hope he had of protecting Harriet from him was done. . . unless he let Harley kill him, of course. And perhaps, really, in the end that was the best option.

  Suddenly, the coach cracked forward. Instead of home, he called, “Take me to Fleet Street,” to the driver.

  The vehicle shifted subtly heading down to the park and turned east.

  He had no doubt as to what was about to happen, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it. Now, all he could do was accept his future and do what he could to shield Harriet from the tragedy of being married to him, a man who carried pain and cruelty in his blood.

  Chapter 18

  The door ripped open and the sound of thunderous footsteps filled the foyer.

  “Where the devil is the bastard?” Harley roared.

  Rob lifted the brandy to his lips and drank. He wasn’t drunk. Not yet. No, he’d need a few wits to negotiate this dance. He didn’t want to have to face Harley on a field at dawn. And then lose on purpose. After all, he was in the wrong. Very, very wrong.

  Royland stood by the fire and sighed, “Here we go.”

  When Rob had arrived, he’d immediately told Raventon and Royland that Harley would be there within moments to pound him into the floor and rightly so.

  Their job was to ensure nobody died this night in a fit of passion.

  If anyone was up to the task, it was Raventon and Royland, both men with tempers and passions of their own that they’d long ago learned to check.

  Harley’s boot falls pounded up the steps. The sound of him charging down the first landing echoed through the entire house, and when he strode through the already open doorway of the large, masculine study, his eyes flashed with fury.r />
  Harley spotted Rob and stopped, his entire being crackling with rage. His chest pumped up and down, his cravat askew as if he’d torn at it on the ride over. He stood like that for a long moment, merely breathing but then he roared, “You pox-ridden ass.”

  Rob lifted his glass and inclined his head. “Indeed.”

  With that, Harley cut across the room in three steps, hauled back his fist and slammed it into Rob’s jaw.

  Since Rob made no attempt to avoid the blow, his head cracked back and he grimaced as the sensation that his teeth had been knocked into the previous century flooded him.

  Harley seized his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. “What the hell were you doing with my sister?”

  “What I shouldn’t,” he gritted as he tongued the laceration in his cheek now pouring blood.

  “What you shouldn’t?” Harley echoed, his face hard. “We’re supposed to be friends.”

  Rob waited for the next onslaught but was able to reply, “We are.”

  Harley looked like a man possessed as he growled, “We were.”

  Royland began calmly, “Harley—”

  “Did you ruin her?” Harley demanded, ignoring the attempt to calm the situation, obviously in no mood for intervention. “Because she bloody well looked like she’d been ruined when she walked into our house.”

  Rob remained silent for a moment then, determined to be honest, said, “Yes.”

  Harley’s eyes flared and he went for Rob’s throat. “You utter arse!”

  As soon as Harley’s hands had wrapped about his neck, Rob braced himself, holding fast on Harley’s forearms. Resisting just enough to ensure he wouldn’t asphyxiate. He didn’t truly believe Harley wished to commit murder.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Harley ground out as he tried to tighten his hands but then his eyes flashed with the realization he was, indeed, attempting murder and he shoved Rob away.

  Rob nearly stumbled but caught himself on the fireplace mantel and whipped around. “I wasn’t. Harry has a way of stealing my reason.”