Say Yes to the Duke (24 page)

He put his hands on her waist. “I promise,” he said, “you’re going to be beautiful
naked. You already are.”

She bit her lip. “I-I do like my body. That is, when I bathe, I think it’s rather
pretty when I hold up my leg and soap it. And I even like the curve of my breast.”

“And your belly,” he said, and ran his hand over it. “It’s perfect. All of you is.”

Her eyes grew luminous. “You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

She took his hands at her waist and pushed them downward. He took over then, removing
her drawers slowly, crouching down and kissing her, inch by inch of exposed flesh,
as the delicate fabric came off.

When her drawers were at her feet, he got her to step out of them. But before he stood,
he nuzzled her feminine curls, spread her legs, and kissed the sweet pearl of flesh
between her thighs.

“Oh-h-h,” she said, leaning on his shoulder. “That’s exquisite.” She moaned her pleasure
as softly as she could. “Is this what they’re doing at Halsey House?”

He thrust his tongue inside her once, for good measure, then pulled back to look up
at her.

The shock on her face made him laugh out loud. “It could be.”

“If—if they are, I don’t know why they’d ever leave their bedchambers.”

He wrapped one of her legs around his shoulder and held on to her derriere, and he
licked and stroked and thrust his tongue in her most intimate place until she writhed
against him and cried out, over and over, softly.

She collapsed onto the coats, and he held her there, shocked that he never wanted
to let her go.

Chapter Nineteen

Lady Janice’s face was flush with pleasure. “I understand now why Miss Branson would
pay for that. Although … it can’t be good with anyone else but you, Luke. I can’t
think of a single other man with whom I’d want to be this private.”

She was such an innocent.

“Thank you for the compliment.” He kissed the back of her hand. “There’s something
I have to tell you.”

She became very quiet and still. “What is it? There’s something I have to tell you,
too.”

“I thought so,” he said. “You go first.”

“Very well. She looked suddenly shy. “The duke asked me to marry him.”

Luke’s entire body tensed. “You’re jesting.”

She shook her head.

“Not that you’re not worthy of him.” Luke raked a hand through his hair. “You’re much
too good for him, actually.”

She sighed. “I admit that when he’s acting the duke he can be quite intimidating.
I get this fleeting feeling that something is terribly wrong. But I think I’m imagining
that. The truth is, he’s been very courteous. And I have to say, even when I challenged
him about his grandmother, he came round.”

“So do you want to marry him?” Luke had to know.

She bit her lip. “A lingering part of me does. Long ago, I was sure that dukes and
duchesses don’t have any worries. But that’s foolish, of course. Here my father’s
a marquess and my mother a marchioness—and they certainly have their share of problems.
Becoming Duchess of Halsey would mean that—well, only a day ago I thought it would
mean that I’d be happy.” She sighed. “But I don’t think so anymore.”

“So did you say yes?”

“Not yet.”

“Has he kissed you?”

“No.”

“Do you want him to?”

“No.”

Something primitive inside Luke was very satisfied with that answer.

She brushed her hand over his hair. “Every time I think of marrying him, your face
comes to my mind. It’s an awful feeling. How—how would you feel if I married him?”

As if my world would fall apart.

“You can’t worry about me.” He held her hand.

“I want to know.” She squeezed his hand back.

He looked away. “I told you, and you’ve told me. I’m fit only to lift you into the
saddle and put up your horse after a ride.”

He looked back at her and saw how stricken her gaze was. But he’d had to say it. To
remind her. And although he was at fault for walking willingly with her into intimacy,
there was a line to draw, reality to face: whether he was a groom or heir to a dukedom,
he’d never be worthy of her.

And while they were speaking harsh truths, it was time to say what he must about Halsey.
“I don’t want to delve into details.” Their hands were still joined. “But I have some
bad news about the duke that will be difficult to hear.”

“Tell me.” Her palm was smooth and cold, but he could feel a tinge of sweat slicking
its surface.

“I heard him make a hundred-pound wager with the other men—Sir Milo included—that
he’d be able to bed you outside the confines of marriage.”

She blinked. “They
bet
on me? That he’d be able to … to seduce me?”

Luke hated seeing her eyes so anguished. He lifted her onto his lap again, her back
to him, making it easy for him to wrap his hands around her waist and rest his chin
on her shoulder. Her cheek was soft as down against his. “I wanted to tell you before
I left with Sir Milo. But I couldn’t get a message to you. I had to hope that you’d
keep your wits about you.”

She grabbed his hands and held them tight. “If he thinks I’m of so little worth that
he’d wager on me with his equally despicable friends, he can’t possibly mean to marry
me.”

“I think you’re wrong there.” Luke gave her belly a little squeeze. “Halsey believes
he’s invincible. He’s a duke, after all. He could make a tavern wench his duchess,
and no one would say a word.”

Luke couldn’t tell Janice this, but he saw exactly why Grayson would want to marry
her. She reminded a man that amid the rubbish of life there were puppies.

And sweet kisses.

Acceptance and laughter.

It was as simple as that.

She sighed. “Are we done yet with the revelations?”

“I’ve nothing left to say.” Except that he wanted her and the fact that he couldn’t
have her hurt more than anything else ever had.

She wriggled in his lap. “I’ve one thing left.”

“And it is?”

She looked at him over her shoulder at the same time that she snaked her hand between
his legs and cupped his privates. “I want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”

He wished he could tell her the truth—that she already had.

*   *   *

Janice was amazed at how quickly Luke’s erection sprang to life beneath her fingers.
She turned completely around to straddle him and stroked the hot, hard length of him
while he held on to her back.

“Steel sheathed in satin,” she whispered. “Am I pleasing you?”

“Yes.” He reached up a hand to cup her head and drew her close for a deep kiss that
filled her with a sense of utter rightness.

She belonged here, with him.

Groom or no, he was her man like no other.

Now she understood what Mama and Marcia were talking about. The knowing was a mystery.
What was between her and Luke was whole and perfect, as if it had been there all along
and always would be. It had only taken special eyes to see.

This was what love was.

And she didn’t know how she would ever leave him.

When he found his release, his seed spilled over her hands and onto her lower belly
and she marveled at the strength of him even at his most vulnerable. As his pleasure
receded, his head lolled to the left and he opened one eye to peek at her.

She laughed. “Satisfied?”

He grabbed her close. “Never completely. As long as you’re around, I want more. But
yes, for a moment there, it was sheer heaven.”

They kissed, but it was more a conversation without words. There were pauses, questions,
affirmations, denials. Afterward he wiped evidence of their intimacy off of her belly
and hands with a piece of clean flannel from the stack on the table.

“You should go,” he said.

Was that regret she heard in his voice?

Of course it was. She was beyond wondering. He cared for her. That much was clear.
But what did it matter?

Whatever happens, it does,
she thought.

She did have to go, so she picked up her night rail and he helped her don the yards
of soft muslin and lace.

“I have much to accomplish tomorrow,” she said, adjusting her sleeves.

He pulled her braid out of the back. “What will you tell the duke?”

“That I can’t marry him.” Never in a million years would she consider it. And not
simply because of his vile wager. She wanted to tell Luke that even had the duke been
a good man, her heart belonged to another.

To him.

For a moment, they did nothing but look into each other’s eyes.

“That’s the right decision,” he eventually said, fingering the tendrils of hair at
her temple.

She wished he would tell her that his heart would break the day she married another
man—any man.

But he didn’t.

And she shouldn’t expect it.

Just as he should expect nothing from her.

Her eyes stung as he buttoned her into her coat, but by the time he was finished she
had herself under control. They spent a few more seconds together at Esmeralda’s stall.

“I’ll be in the duke’s bad books as of tomorrow,” Janice said, “so I don’t know how
much time I’ll have left here. I assume he’ll want to send me packing as soon as the
snow melts.”

“I think so,” Luke said softly.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered. “I should, of course. After hearing about this
bet, I should pack my bags and leave as fast as I can. But there are the puppies.
The dowager. And
you.
”

Luke put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I don’t like to see you go, either.”

It was the most he’d ever said to her about his feelings. But she hoped he meant it.
Oh, how she hoped! Even if it was futile.

She buried her face in his coat. “I can’t marry him. I never thought I’d be horrified
at the idea of marrying a duke.” Her voice was a little muffled, but she didn’t care.
She wished she could scream into Luke’s coat—scream at the world, which was so unfair.

“You
are
unusual,” he said with a tinge of amusement. “But no one who knows the truth could
blame you for turning him down.”

She gave a little chuckle. “Life is strange sometimes.”

“Very surprising.” Luke smoothed her hair again, and she preened like a cat. “Did
you ever think as you were traveling here that you’d spend more time in the tack room
than the drawing room, for instance?”

She looked up, smiling. “I can never tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to. That’s between
us.” Their own special memory. One that she’d carry with her all her life.

“Now that it’s apparent you won’t be staying,” he said, “I can’t force you anymore
to look for my mother’s journal. So consider yourself free of that obligation, at
least.”

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily,” she said. “I plan to continue looking for
it anyway—at least until the duke forces me out of here. Until that time, expect to
see me every night with a full report of the day’s search. On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You said you had other people relying on you. I want to know more. What do you know
of your mother?”

“She lived at the orphanage with me, until I was almost four. I thought she was a
nun. She took care of me, sang me to sleep, held my hand. But she was dressed in a
habit. I didn’t know, but she was hiding.”

“Why?”

“The nuns don’t probe. They simply accept. And they accepted that my mother was afraid,
and that she needed a place of refuge. It wasn’t until right before her death that
she told Sister Brigid about the journal.”

“Sister Brigid?”

“She runs the orphanage.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Janice said. “This makes my search even more imperative. It
seems as if this mistreatment must have been severe. Emily was afraid. But of whom?
And why? I wish you’d told me earlier. Is there anything else?”

“No.” He was too detached when he said it—his
old
self.

She saw it in his eyes, the shutter that came down when he didn’t want to connect.
“There
is
something,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

“There isn’t.”

“You’re lying.” She laid a hand on his forearm.

“And you’re much too nosy.” He pulled away.

“Fine. Don’t tell me anything, Mr. Callahan. But know this”—she spoke an inch from
his face, up on her toes—“the truth always comes out.” She thought about how it had
in her own family: for Marcia and, most recently, for Gregory. “And I, for one, believe
that standing in that truth is better than running away from it. Nothing good can
come of running. Ever.”

She left the stable door wide open. Luke stood in its frame and watched her stride
back to the darkened house, her arms swinging, her braid swaying on her back. She
slipped once on the icy path but regained her footing and kept going, not missing
a beat.

Overhead, the moon was like a silver platter laid on an ink black tablecloth.
Remember this,
he thought, and basked in the sight of her.
Janice.
He allowed himself to call her that.

Come morning, he’d be one day closer to never seeing her again.

Chapter Twenty

Janice began to walk as quietly as possible up the main staircase at Halsey House,
her stomach roiling at the memory of how kind the duke had been just the evening before
on the same set of stairs. He’d told her she had a glow about her.

How despicable of him to flatter her to her face and work against her behind her back.

The only light tonight came from the glare of the moon through the transom above the
front door, but it was brilliant enough that she saw from the case clock below that
it was half past two. All was still. Her stomach was tied in knots, and she wondered
if she’d ever get sleep. She needed to. Tomorrow was going to be a momentous day—in
an uncomfortable way—what with her turning down Halsey’s offer.