Her Mystery Duke Page 6

  “You weren’t foxed. You were delirious with fever.”

  “I do feel rather dizzy. I think I am still delirious.”

  “Then you should sleep.”

  “I want to see your body, Jeanne.”

  When he smiled in that slight way, he was so gorgeous. Heavens, she couldn’t help smiling back at him. “What does it matter now, David? You’ve had what you wanted from me already.”

  He drew his dark brows together. “How do you know what I want?”

  “All men want the same thing.”

  “Some men want more than others.”

  There was a wealth of dark, sensual promise in his tone. It spoke to parts of her that seemed to awaken.

  She laughed, a catch in her voice in time with the sudden, clenching of her cunt, the thrill of wetness trickling over flesh swollen by desire. “I just hadn’t planned on showing myself.”

  “You’ve seen me.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “So what’s fair, Jeanne?” His teasing tone sent more fluid surging from her.

  “I have seen your all simply because I needed to bring your fever down.”

  “And you took no pleasure from the act?”

  “Just the satisfaction of helping a fellow human in need.”

  “What a little liar you are.”

  “If I let you see my body, will you promise to sleep afterwards?”

  “Well, I am too weak yet to do anything else.” He smiled then, a slow, sensual curving of his lips. Despite his pallor and the heavy dusting of dark stubble on his cheeks, the effect was heart stopping. His male beauty ravished the last of her self-defenses.

  She reached down and slowly pulled up her hem.

  The moment came when she couldn’t delay any longer. She whisked the garment over her head then tossed it aside.

  He stared at her so intently. It was hard to stand there calmly and just let him look. She had lain down and let men unbutton her gown and lift her skirts. But never had she stood and just let a man look at her whole body.

  She felt exposed. Chubby. She put her hand over the curve of her lower belly.

  “Turn.” It wasn’t a plea or a request. It was a command.

  She rankled all over. Had she really placed herself into this position? “You are fatiguing yourself, David. And it is really unnecessary.”

  Despite her nakedness and her sense of being too vulnerable, displaying herself produced an undeniable increase in her arousal. She hadn’t expected any of this, the strange feelings, the nuances of play. It put her at a disadvantage. It made her think that perhaps he did know something about her. Something she didn’t know herself. She offered him a cool, steady look.

  His look softened. “All right, Jeanne, so you’re still shy about your own nakedness. Come back to bed.”

  His tone held grudging tolerance. Like a protector being lenient with a willful mistress, not like a man who she had rescued from the street and been nursing for the past few days.

  “I cannot come to bed. I need to work.”

  He raised his brows. “What work do you do?”

  “I write.”

  “Ah, so that is why your fingers are smudged with ink?”

  “Yes.” She balled her hands to hide the shameful stains.

  “What do you write?”

  “Children’s fairy tales.” It proved hard to say those words with a straight face. Now her face went up in flames. What was it about him that brought out the foolish girl in her?

  “Children’s stories?” He smiled fully then, all white teeth and sensual lips and brilliant, flashing eyes. Despite his unkempt appearance, or maybe even because of it, he was just too deliciously handsome.

  She had to look down or else she would have flung herself back in that bed, let him do whatever he wanted. “Yes, children’s stories.”

  “And you bed ministers and shopkeepers to help with your rent?”

  The teasing note in his voice settled on her like drops of water into hot oil.

  “Yes, something like that, David.” She didn’t even try not to sound snappish. Her previous lovers were none of his affair.“You are selling yourself too cheaply, my darling.” He sounded so certain.

  She laughed softly. Maybe a tad bitterly. “Am I?”

  “You have a stunning body and a lovely face. You could have a duke, if you wanted.”

  She glanced up. His gaze was riveted upon her breasts. Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d seen that effect.

  “I have seen many beautiful breasts—”

  “Congratulations.”

  “That’s not a boast. My wealth and position has allowed me to pick from the cream of available women. I am telling you that I have never seen a more gorgeous pair of breasts.”

  Likely he was overstating his wealth and advantages a bit. All men did.

  “You don’t need to flatter me with such outlandish talk. I think I shall be kind to you for the remainder of your time here with me.”

  “Will you?”

  “Yes, but only if you promise to sleep now.”

  He paused and gaped at her as though her hair had suddenly caught afire. Then he smiled again, lazily this time, distractingly sensual. “You certainly are a dictatorial little thing.”

  He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

  “No, you should rest. You’re not well enough to—”

  He moved across the bed then arose, in all his naked glory. As he approached, her gaze riveted on his hard, muscled midsection. He didn’t appear to be all that steady on his feet and yet, paradoxically, there was a dancer’s grace to the way moved. Once again, she wondered how he maintained his body in that state of development.

  David put his hands on the curve of her waist and he leaned close. Faint wheezing still sounded in his breathing.

  He really was not a well man. Not yet.

  He cupped his hand under the fullest part of her breast. She shouldn’t allow it. He was going to exhaust himself. His thumb brushed over the nipple. Fierce darts of delight stabbed through her. She closed her eyes and suppressed a moan.

  “We have to get you back into bed,” she said.

  His other hand swept over her buttocks. “Yes, I think we should definitely go back to bed.”

  “And then I must feed you and afterwards you must sleep.”

  He pulled back and cupped her face with one hand. “Must I?”

  He gave her one of his slight smiles. It threatened to kill her self-control.

  She stiffened her spine. “Of course you must. You have been really ill.”

  His smile widened into a grin of blinding masculine beauty. Her heart gave a series of jagged beats.

  “I should adore something to eat besides that horrid gruel you have been shoveling at me.” He ran a hand over his cheek, a brisk roughing of the stubble that was somehow unbearably carnal. It sent renewed twinges of need into her belly.

  She became aware of her mouth hanging open. “I have some beef stew.”

  “Well, that would be lovely, darling. And then I need to clean myself up, I think. I don’t suppose you have a razor and shaving soap?”

  “I sent out for some.”

  “Excellent.” He looked at her then with an intense, predatory glint.

  Again, her heart gave a series of jagged, panicked beats. He was letting her off. However, if he had been well, he would not have. He would have pressed his advantage. The most frightening thing about that was she didn’t know where or how far he would have taken her.

  But she did suspect that she wouldn’t have been able to resist.

  Dry-mouthed, she turned away from him. Thank goodness for something practical to focus on. Feeding him. Helping him to clean up. Of course it was better for him to eat and shave. The sooner David was presentable, the sooner his coachman could be sent for, and he would be on his way to his life. And out of hers.

  * * * *

  The plain stew of carrots, onions and beef tasted better than the finest ragout of beef
. As David swallowed a third mouthful of salty, rich broth, blood seemed to surge into his head, clearing the remaining fog from his thoughts. Apparently, he had been here for days, lost in delirium and half delirium.

  It seemed unreal. He hadn’t been ill since he was a very small child. Stamina and the ability to push on no matter what were simply facets of his being. He looked around at the small chamber: cracked plaster, old furniture, a single window, the outside glass frosted by a heavy coating of dirt. Where the hell was he? How many days had passed? Why hadn’t he insisted on sending for his carriage long before this? He must have taken leave of all his senses.

  He had missed the vote.

  “You called me Thérèse.”

  His blood went to ice and he paused in the act of chewing. He turned to where she sat across from him at the cheap little table. Sunlight illuminated her hair into shining gold.

  She pinned him with her gaze from the largest, bluest eyes David had ever seen. “She’s your mistress?”

  “In another lifetime, yes, she was.”

  Transfixed, he jerked his gaze from hers and looked around again at several tall stacks of books and papers scattered over the floor nearby. “You live here alone?”

  “Yes, I live alone.” Her voice was soft and so girlish; it drew his attention back to her. “How old are you, sweeting?”

  “I am twenty-one.”

  She was a woman, not a girl after all. Thank God for that. Apparently he had not taken that much leave of his senses.

  But he had missed the vote in committee on the bill he’d introduced to improve the treatment of the insane. The single most important event he’d worked toward in years. He’d spent the entire hunting season finessing various members of both the opposition and his own side to see things his way. He’d promised favors that would take him years to repay. But first the bill had to get out of committee and into a general vote.

  What if the vote in committee had gone the other way today, just by his own absent voice?

  “What is today?”

  “Tomorrow is the Lord’s day.”

  “How did we come to be together? Truly.”

  “You walked into the coffee shop I frequent on Aldgate High Street and you called me Thérèse. You were out of your head—I am certain they would have taken you to Bedlam otherwise.”

  Despite himself, the image of the Duke of Hartley being carted off to Bedlam made him chuckle. “And you were afraid for my safety?”

  “My father died in one of those places.” She closed her eyes. “There came a time when I could no longer control him alone and I could afford no servants.”

  Softness and sympathy welled in his chest. He felt his face contort with it. “My darling girl, I am so sorry.”

  She opened her eyes. “It is just what happened.”

  Her attempt to smile failed miserably.

  A peculiar pressure developed in the center of his chest that had nothing to do with his improving illness. Tenderness consumed him. She had taken it upon herself to protect him and brought him here to care for. She had also denied him the advantages of a physician. But she had cared for him, a virtual stranger.

  “You are a very sweet girl.” He reached across the table and touched her mouth, running the pad of his thumb over her velvet-soft lower lip. “And you have a very sweet mouth.”

  He allowed himself a slight smile at the memory of those rose-colored lips wrapped around his erection. She continued staring at him with those large eyes. She was trying to appear strong. Trying to conceal the pain he’d seen darken her gaze.

  He wanted to give her pleasure. Lavish pleasure. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to soften those hard, prickly edges she put between herself and the world. She was like a brave, spiting kitten lost in the large city.

  The last thought left him shaken. It was the exact truth.

  So what did that make him?

  A wolf?

  “Good God, you’re so very young.” He’d not been with anyone so young in years.

  She raised a brow. “Well, just how old are you?”

  “I am thirty-eight.”

  “That doesn’t seem so very old.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “No,” she replied with a bland expression.

  So, she was used to bedding much older men. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

  “Dare I ask, what street are we on here?” He wanted to take his mind off the subject of this girl and her other, older men.

  “Wentworth Street, Whitechapel.”

  He blinked at her. How the devil had he come so far east? “I’ll see that you are compensated for the trouble you have taken.”

  What good would it do to tell the girl who he was? Moreover, he didn’t want to see that open, sincere gaze harden into greed.

  “I don’t need much. But I had to buy the shaving items, the food, extra firewood—oh, and the landlady will ask for my percentage.”

  “Your percentage?”

  “Yes, she’ll assume you’ve paid for my time. She expects a percentage of that.”

  “Of course. But I am talking about something far greater here.”

  “I don’t need greater compensation.”

  “You’ll be compensated.” He pushed himself up and stood. All the blood rushed from his head.

  “Sit.” Her voice sounded sharp. Panicked.

  A reddish black haze appeared before his eyes.

  “Now!”

  His knees buckled and he veered toward the bed, falling across it.

  “God, what were you thinking?” Her voice rose with a shriller note of panic this time.

  He gazed up at her, confused. He’d always been able to press through any fatigue. “I must get back to my life.”

  “You may send a message for your carriage, first thing tomorrow morning.”

  He opened his mouth to protest. To tell her that he must send for it right away. He needed to get back to the House of Lords. But blackness rose up and swallowed him whole.

  Chapter Five

  David’s face burned pleasantly from the razor. There was nothing like a clean shave after feeling so beastly. The scent of elderberry tea wafted up, a faintly nauseating odor. He was thoroughly sick of the horrid-tasting stuff. He pushed the cup aside, took the bottle of ale, and poured a generous libation into another cup and took a deep drink. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of good, strong, plain, black tea.

  “Here are the latest newspapers from this week.”

  He looked up at Jeanne but without truly seeing her. His mind was filled with the need to know what had transpired in the House of Lords in his absence. He all but jerked the papers from her grasp. The second- or third-hand wrinkled paper bore splatters of tea or coffee or God knew what. He scanned the headlines. The bill had squeaked by and passed the committee by one vote.

  Relief flooded him and he sat back in the chair, then he glanced back at Jeanne.

  She shrugged out of her pelisse and laid it over a chair. Beneath, she wore only her nightdress. Morning sun filtered in the dingy little window. It made her hair glow like gold and shone through the thin fabric, casting her curvy body in soft light. Small, pale pink nipples strained against the cloth. Her softly curving waist and luscious hips and thighs were like a goddess’s.

  His gaze traveled back up and focused on her lips. He recalled how soft and warm they had been on his cock. But he had not yet tasted them. And suddenly he wanted to, very badly. She was so young, and with her large eyes, short, button of a nose, and rounded, rosy cheeks, she was very pretty, in a fresh-faced country-girl kind of way. Quite a change from the sophisticated courtesans of Mayfair. He quite liked it.

  She had so obviously enjoyed sucking his cock. He didn’t think he’d ever known a woman who had enjoyed it as much. He certainly had never enjoyed it as much, despite the brevity of the act due to his own weakness. Well, he wasn’t feeling so weak now. What must she be like to ride? He couldn’t seem to think of anything else but burying himse
lf cods-deep inside her.

  Yet her very desirability made her wholly unsuitable for the way he lived. He’d tried keeping a mistress once and it did not mesh well with his life.

  Passionate women were always trouble.

  And Jeanne was very, very passionate. Even more so than Thérèse.

  An image of his former mistress’s dark, youthful beauty, and then the corruption and ruin of that beauty, rose vividly in his mind, cooling his ardor. He took a deep breath. No, he couldn’t bear another disaster like Thérèse. He’d never risk it again.

  He should leave here directly. He should forget this girl with the perfect form. He would never have even become involved with her if he had been in his right mind. He looked down at her and opened his mouth to tell her farewell.

  Her clear, blue gaze met his, full of such hunger that he caught his breath. Heat entered his blood, filling his cock. He shouldn’t do anything about it. He ought to just say goodbye and leave. “Jeanne, you know I am leaving soon.”

  * * * *

  A cold, heavy weight settled in Jeanne’s chest. But why? It was best if David went on his way as soon as possible. “Yes, you must leave soon.”

  “I shall never return. There’s no room for you in my life.” His absolute tone left no doubt he spoke the truth

  The weight in her chest pressed harder. “Goodness. What’s all this about?”

  He rubbed her shoulders gently. Just the slightest touch yet thrills passed through her, stiffening her nipples. “I want to feel your softness beneath me. I want to put my cock in you.”

  “Oh.” The image his words provoked was unbearably beguiling. Her breathing quickened and heat began to pool deep in her belly.

  “At least once. Otherwise, I think I shall go mad wondering what it would have been like.”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips. “I think I would too.”

  “Would you really, darling?” Desire vibrated in his deep tone. No one had ever looked at her like he was staring at her now. As though he would consume her whole.

  A thrill raced through her, making her nipples even tighter.

  She nodded slowly.