The Duke (Daughters of Dishonour #2)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

H e was done denying this. Done avoiding Elsie around the manor house because the truth was, he could no longer resist her. It hadn’t done any good staying away from her; she had haunted him regardless. And now he could luxuriate in holding her, kissing, caressing her skin and tasting the softness of her. It fed him, filling him with the sort of hot passion that thrummed through his chest—spurring on a hunger that he’d kept buried for far too long, and he felt like a caged beast now he was let loose. Elsie’s dress was pushed up, her drawers ripped, his fingers pressing into her—laying claim in a way he’d denied himself.

Her lips melded with his, encouraging him on, and her small hands clung to his shoulders as he pushed her more entirely flat against the wall. All the niceties of a formal bed, of making love in a proper setting fled from him, leaving just an overwhelming drive for her body.

Moving both of his hands to her hips he steadied her, the differences in their heights no longer mattering now she was pinned against him. Her body had already been riding his fingers, and when he shifted them out of the way, he heard her groan .

“God,” he muttered.

Her eyes shot open, fixating on him. “You were what I was imagining when you walked in on me.”

The dim light in the ballroom showed her bright eyes, awareness flared in him, back to the moment he’d entered her bedroom—and the suspicion of what he’d walked in on.

“Only the one time?” he asked, given the countless times he’d indulged in the privacy of his own chamber, and pleasure flared within him when Elsie shook her head. “I’ve imagined this.” He pressed himself forward, his cock brushing against her curls, inches from entering her. “Pictured it again and again, longed for it…” Until I thought I was going mad from it , Kit thought the last part, not ready to say it aloud.

“It doesn’t have to be imaginary anymore.” Elsie gasped. Her head thrown back against the wall, her chignon loose around her shoulders, the tops of her evening gown bagging to reveal the tops of her breasts. Even in the groggy moonlight, he could see her flush.

Lifting her slightly, Kit adjusted himself more firmly against her, pleased to feel the soft wetness of her need urging him on.

Elsie’s hands clung to his shoulders, eagerly encouraging him until he found the right position and slid inside her, taking her, holding her, and claiming her in turn. Any resistance or barrier he might have envisioned occurred to him briefly before the overwhelming need swarmed him, leaving no time or space for such thoughts—just with the drive to be sated. And to sate her too.

His movements as he pinned her to the wall started with an earnest ferocity, claiming and surging, the hot tightening of her holding him before he moved again, seemed to create between the two of them an uneven, lustful dance. Their breaths were heated, desperate, and lacking in anything beyond the sheer pressure of want. He surged into her with as much skill as he could manage, delighted to see colour flare brightly across her face, and watch as Elsie’s eyes flew wide, her throat worked, and she gasped out a moan. The tension in her body hardened, and then she cried out loudly as her limbs wobbled against his, lost to a world of sensation.

Suddenly her hand came out, pressing against his partly clothed chest, and he paused in his rocking, to gaze at her, the desire rumbling in him, riding his innards to finish in her.

“It’s too much,” she said. He slid out of her immediately, pulling himself away, the pain of being away from her excruciating. “I know this.” She gestured with her hands making circular motions as she stared at him with a strange expression on her face. “What it is to find… completion… but…”

Was Elsie rejecting him? Kit eased back, allowing her to drop down, to find her feet unsteadily on the floor. He had come on too strongly, been too demanding for her, too much for her. And he only had himself to blame.

She sucked in a breath and then gave him a tremendous smile, partly nervous, partly encouraging, and Kit closed the distance to brush his mouth against her lips. She clung to him again and whispered, “Did you…?”

“No.” At least he figured she was asking him if he had found his own end. Between their bodies, his cock still throbbed with want for her. Elsie let out a small laugh as she brushed her hips and then her hand along the length of him. “Did you want to continue?” He tried to make his question light when all he wanted was to be back inside her.

When she nodded, he bent his head and started kissing her neck, his mouth devouring the taste of her exposed skin, the two of them unevenly landing in a sprawl on the floor. The section they were in, a little secluded and padded with carpet. They rolled as parts of their formal wear were discarded, each of them tasting and touching whatever aspect of each other they could reach. Until Kit felt the burning sensation of his need for her consume him, and he knew he needed to be inside her again. They rolled over, and he pulled her body up against his, her back flat on his chest as his hands explored Elsie’s exposed front, tugging at her dress until it was beyond repair.

“I need to be inside you,” Kit said, his voice unrecognisable with need.

He felt her nod against him. Tilting her forwards at an angle, pushing the remains of her dress up to expose the rump of her arse, the roundness filling his hands briefly as she slipped into a better position in front of him. Kit pushed forward, keeping her steady and held her to him, as Elsie gasped out to find herself filled in such a way, her hands reaching out to the wall, ensuring she kept in close contact with him. In such a position, Kit let one of his hands roam over her body, exploring her as he rocked inside her, the motion making the pair of them cry out.

Pressure and light built up inside him, the feel of her tightening around his cock more exquisite and intense than he could ever have envisioned. Elsie’s body was a work of magic. A thing of enchantment. An endless maze of beauty… the compliments rolled through him until Kit was no longer sure what he’d said aloud and what he’d merely thought, what he felt certain of, and where he ended , and she began. The sensation built up in his body, flooding through as it claimed his mind too, and it was only with a distant realisation, he found his release. It crashed through him, bright and powerful as he pulled her close to him, his hands encircling her as his hips pumped into her, kissing the side of her neck and face.

All the while his breath was harsh and quick, logic and sense beyond him until the two of them crashed down on the carpet again.

Minutes crept by. Occasionally one of them would shift, adjust themselves into a comfortable position. Vaguely, Kit knew they should move. This was a public space. Someone, a servant might enter. But this distant thought could not stir him. His hand reached out as he pushed a stray strand of a curl off Elsie’s face as his eyes drifted down her body. They lay, him on his back and Elise on her front, side by side, only a foot between them. A stupid smile played on his face as he looked at her.

“That was not your first time,” he finally said into the darkness. Perhaps someone might see it as a criticism, but he was pleased to see Elsie did not take it in that manner.

“No,” she replied. Her hand reaching out and resting on his chest. “I was ruined long ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing could ruin you, Miss Keating. Ever.”

She laughed at this. “No, you cannot return to such talk. Now I can only be Elsie to you.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

A shadow passed over her face, fleetingly, a memory which was not pleasant, and Kit felt guilty. “I can tell you what mine was like if you want to hear it?”

The exposed shoulder lifted in a shrug. “If it matters.”

The idea of hearing about it, of dwelling on another man, gripped him for a moment, and then Kit shook his head. “As long as it wasn’t against your will.”

“I was a fool, and I believed a soldier’s promised offer of marriage, but nothing was forced on me.” She looked up into his face as she spoke, and this released Kit of the burden of hunting the man down to kill him. No, he just needed to ensure that any memory of this soldier was burnt away entirely.

“Mine was with a tavern wench when I was at Cambridge. I am not sure what promises I made, but I’m sure they did not leave me with much dignity,” he said. The memory was a faint one, growing less significant with each year that passed, especially after what they had just shared.

Despite his fears, despite the ruined evening, despite everything that happened to spoil their best laid plans, Kit curled up closer to Elsie revelling in the feeling of pushing his worries away in her company. At least for these few snatched moments. His hands sought Elsie out, lightly touching her hair brushing it away from her eyes and then pulling her closer. She smiled at him through the darkness, and Kit kissed her. Her mouth rewarded him, her lips generous beneath his.

“Are you going to tell me we should leave?” She came to rest her head on his shoulder. He enjoyed this closeness, knowing it would not happen again. A bittersweet knowledge playing with him that it could be repeatable.

“Not unless you want to.”

She mockingly pretended to stretch out, as if this floor in a partly smoky room, dirtier by the remains of the party, was the most elegant and refined of boudoirs. “We do have a good record of finding locations to get closer to each other.”

“What do you do?” he teased her. “This spot is…”

“Starting with our cave, nothing could compare,” she said.

“This is an improvement then,” he said, thinking that were they able to be together again they hopefully might be able to locate a bed. In response she laughed. It was a sweet soft sound, and it gladdened his heart.

Behind him, there was a crinkling sound of a door closing, and they both sat up staring down the length of the ballroom. Someone must have heard them, or worse, could they have been seen?

“I should go.” Her voice was low, and he hated that she spoke the truth. For everyone’s sake. “My reputation?—”

“I cannot offer for you.” He would not assign another person to be tied to his dreaded family. “I’m sorry?—”

“I didn’t ask you to. Not given…” she trailed off, then came up, and sat on her folded knees, looking down at him. It was difficult to make out her expression, and he feared he’d disappointed her. “I have no dowry, no connections, and most importantly no virtue. I’m hardly a catch.”

“You’re more desirable than any other woman,” he said what he was thinking aloud, and she dipped her head and kissed his lips lightly .

“I suppose I’m simply not the marrying kind,” Elsie said.

Kit sat up, reaching for his own clothes as she dressed. How could he explain there was nothing wrong with her, and he would be more than happy to do the honourable thing? Being married to her would be a wondrous thing, and their nights would be ones filled with pleasure. A notable marriage based on friendship and affection. It sounded rather like his dear parents’ union and look at how well that had worked out—both of them disappointed and dead despite their best efforts. He would ensure that the Ashmore line ended with him. He could not inflict this fate on another.

“You will find a better match. Of that, I have no doubt.” A bitterness rose up in him. A form of jealousy that he had not expected even as he said the words. The idea of someone else wedding her, or someone else kissing her… He realised the truth that someone would gravitate towards Elsie’s sweetness, generosity, wit, and beauty…but she was his. Or at least he wished to claim her.

“Better than a duke?” She laughed having finished dressing as much as she could. She sounded doubtful, and he was certain Elsie thought he considered himself too high in his instep to make an offer for her. “Please rest assured I have no expectations of you. I know I am ruined and not good enough for a duke.” She pressed her hands against the folds of her skirt. “Will you walk me to my chamber?”

“Of course,” he replied. How he wished she knew that she was far too good… but the words stuck awkwardly in his throat and when he thought he had found them she was already several steps away from him. Perhaps in the light of day, with a clearer head he would try to reassure her of this. Following in her wake, all his prior pride put to one side, a need arose to ensure she safely reached her chamber.

If he thought they might be silent, he was wrong. Once they were in the corridor, heading towards the staircase, Elsie was raising a topic of conversation he had put off for the entire time he had been focused on her.

“You think the chandelier was done deliberately?” Elsie kept stride with him, but he noticed she held on to the banister rather than take his arm. She wasn’t angry, but he suspected she was hurt. But her very question pinpointed why he could never marry—inflicting his family legacy on a woman or a child would be an inhuman act. Having attempted to explain or voice such thoughts to her previously had not worked and Kit doubted such ideas would suddenly take. Elsie would surely just see it as an excuse.

“I do,” Kit said.

“Well, it must have been done by someone in that case. A person who wished you or this evening ill.”

“Possibly. Yet this manor.” Kit glanced around them as they reached the midway point of the stairs, a small landing with an alcove. Elsie was hurriedly moving on, so he continued, “But you must remember that the building is hundreds of years old. It has lived through the monasteries being dissolved, and for decades, there’s not been any restoration done on the place, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was sheer bad luck.” Or the Ashmore’s legacy of death and destruction.

Elsie did not reply to this, but he did see her chewing on her lip. “Which room is located above the ballroom?” Her hand raised in the air as she tried to count. “We should check it and see.”

“See what?”

“Was it just ill fortune or sabotage? If it was the latter, we might be able to find out who is guilty?”

Kit had tried something after his parents’ deaths convinced that, if he found out the culprit for the spike in the wheel, this would somehow improve matters. “I’m not certain…”

“Come.” She grabbed his hand and set off retracing their steps just on the floor above. Darting along the corridor, eager to locate the chamber above the ballroom, flitting in and out of the moonlight. “Is this the one?” She ran ahead of him and pressed a hand against the door. “God, the smell is bad even up here.”

Nodding, Kit opened the doorway to the bedchamber, one of the numerous unused bedrooms that littered the second floor. Most, he suspected, would be dust filled and abandoned with furniture missing or damaged.

Edging their way silently inside, Kit saw that white sheets covered up most of the furniture in ominous shapes, removing from his eyesight clarity on what each of them might be. It was a chamber which had not been robbed of its contents. However, what remained created an ill-smelling gothic counterpoint in front of them. The curtains were partly drawn, and Elsie walked across, flinging them wider. Sickly white light poured in through the glass, like stale milk, revealing in its wake on the floor, a thrown back carpet, splintered wood, and an abandoned axe. Visible through the cracks in the flooring was the dropped chandelier, part of its mechanism still swinging. Someone within the household, or a guest perhaps, had snuck upstairs determined to end the party. Or more likely end his sister and him. Either way that was why the celebration had come to a crashing halt.

Elsie glanced up at him, her expression drawing down in a quick frown, calculation quickly showing on her pretty face. “It can’t be a curse. Don’t you see it, Kit? I thought for a moment it might be, because you were so convinced, but…” She stopped herself and stepped closer, one of her hands reaching out for him, gently touching him. “But here is the proof, nothing otherworldly, that someone—someone real—is trying to kill you.”