Dalliance with the Duchess (Seducing the Duchess #3)

Chapter Seven

N icholas had no idea how their argument had turned into this. In some faraway part of his brain he knew he should stop. Move back. Distance himself. And he told himself he would do that, just give him a moment more, just a little longer...

Her warm, sweet mouth opened to his, and he groaned as his tongue explored. Her gown rustled as she pressed against him, and then she was straddling his thighs, and his hands were pushing up her skirts and her bare skin was beneath his palms.

A delightful amount of it.

She wasn’t stopping and neither was he, and it felt as if he had been waiting for this moment since their meeting at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens three months ago. And now it was here he wasn’t about to let it slip away through some mistaken belief in propriety, in the idea that he was a gentleman and she was a lady. Because right now neither was true.

Her warm hands were tugging at his shirt, and then they were beneath it, sliding over bare skin, while he had her indecently low bodice tugged down and his mouth was on her breasts. She grasped his shoulders, her fingers digging into him, while he lathed her with his tongue, sucking at the tips until she arched and made sounds of delight.

“I want you,” he said it clearly, in case she needed convincing.

“Yes,” she whispered, her mouth against his jaw, his throat. She sucked at his skin, and he knew there would be a mark. She probably did it on purpose.

His hands were back beneath her skirts, gripping her hips, squeezing the globes of her bottom. Her fingers were fumbling at the buttons of his breeches, opening them, delving inside, and... He groaned so loud he suspected the horses might take fright. He felt her shake with laughter, but it was only for a moment and then he was pressing his palm between her legs and the moist heat spoke of her desperate need.

He paused to look at her. Her hair was a tangle and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes almost wild as she wriggled closer, eager for him to take her. Nicholas lifted her and... How he got inside her he didn’t really know, but here he was, and as he pushed deep they both groaned. And then he was moving and she was, too, and it was a race to the finish. In the end, they both won, coming within seconds of each other. After that the ripples of pleasure held them silent, satisfied in a way he could never remember being before.

Everything slowed down, and there was nothing important enough to send him rushing off. He wanted to stay here, holding her in his arms, forever.

She was lying heavily against him, the shape of her body melded to his, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and he bent his head and pressed his lips to the top of her head. It felt perfect and he didn’t want to go anywhere, but at the same time he was aware that he would need to, before the coach reached its destination.

It was Sophia who eventually moved. She pushed away from him, back to her own side of the vehicle, and he saw that she was disheveled to a marked degree. She began to right herself, tucking her hair back where it had escaped its pins and shaking out her skirts. She found her cloak and pulled it around her, lifting the hood over her head before she peered up at him from its shadows.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said huskily.

He chuckled as he tidied himself up and reminded her, “It has happened before.”

She stared at him, and then sighed. “You knew it was me all along, didn’t you?”

“At Vauxhall? Yes.”

“And yet you said nothing.”

“If I had said anything we wouldn’t have enjoyed that memorable encounter.”

Her mouth twisted. “How did you know?”

“At first? Your eyes and your mannerisms, the way you walked and danced. Your perfume was the final touch, but even so I was unlikely to mistake you for someone else.”

“I knew it was you, too,” she said at last. “As soon as I saw you. It seemed a fine joke to pretend I was a stranger.”

The joke was on her, Nicholas thought, but did not say so. Was there a reason why they both recognized the other and both said nothing? He wondered if it was because it gave them the opportunity to behave in the manner they had been longing to behave but never could. The tension between them had been building over the years, and at Vauxhall it came to a head.

The coach began to slow. He wondered if she would ask him to come inside and take him to her bed so they could repeat the performance. He wanted that, he could hardly believe how much, but he already knew she wasn’t going to. Although there was something very real between them, a frisson of passion that burned brighter each time they kissed, they weren’t friends, or even lovers. They were a couple of lonely strangers taking advantage of an opportunity to fuck.

There, he had admitted it. He was lonely. He had been lonely for a very long time. Was Sophia the answer? Doubtful. Once this business with Gordon was over with, she would get on with her life and he would continue with his.

Nicholas must remind himself of that. He must put some distance between them before he made a fool of himself.

“When do you meet with Chatham and the others again?” he asked briskly as the coach drew to a stop in Berkeley Square.

She eyed him suspiciously a moment before answering in an equally sharp tone. “Chatham mentioned that they would be at a hell called Diablo’s tomorrow night.”

“Diablo’s?” His eyes narrowed. “A place that lives up to its name. Diablo’s is not safe.”

She scoffed. “I am not afraid. I could take a servant if I were anxious, but I am not. As you are aware, Blake, I am not the sort of lady who sits at home with her embroidery.”

“I am aware,” he murmured. “Won’t they think it strange when you join them again so soon?”

She shrugged. “Why should they? I am now out of mourning, and I have told them how much I miss Oldney and how bored I am with my own company.”

“And do you? Miss your husband?”

Sophia’s dark eyes glittered. “I think that is a conversation for another time, Mr. Blake.”

He didn’t respond, although he would have dearly loved to know all of her secrets. He also had the urge to tell her to be careful, but he knew what she would think of that.

“Do you wish to go somewhere in my coach?” she said coolly into the silence. “I would hate for you to be assaulted by footpads.”

He laughed. “Don’t sound so dismayed at the thought, Duchess.”

She smiled although he was certain she was trying hard not to.

Nicholas reached out to open the door and she stepped down. He jumped down beside her and bowed. “Good evening, Your Grace,” he said.

“Good evening, Mr. Blake.”

He spun about and began to walk across the square. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but the fresh air was helpful in clearing his head. He only allowed himself to look back when he had reached the entrance into Curzon Street. She was no longer there, and he felt a foolish sense of disappointment that she wasn’t gazing after him in some lovesick fashion.

Well, of course she wasn’t. And she probably wasn’t missing him already either, as he was missing her. Nicholas rather suspected he was developing a tendre for Sophia, and that was not good. Not good at all. He would need to put a stop to it.

He would do that—after he had rescued Gordon and seen Sophia safely out of the reach of those vicious men.