Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess (The Real Duchesses of London) (13 page)

In this moment she could have set him the tasks of Hercules and he would have complied, would have done anything for just one secret glance at her.

But was this real?

Richards’s
lips circled her right nipple, his tongue darting and playing, and then he drew her deep in to his mouth – and it was real, as real as anything had ever been.

Her head fell back. His arms wrapped about her supporting her as she stared up at the night sky. Each pinpoint of light spinning before her as his lips helped her soar toward the heavens.

God, she needed to think, to be sure – but hadn't she decided not to think, only to feel, to take this one last risk, to leave her heart vulnerable?

She should not be doing this. A simple walk down to the lake and back had been her only intention. All she'd wanted was to see if her husband still had that carefree boy within him. It had been impossible to imagine the new duke walking through the dew damp grass as the crickets sang. But, Richard, the love of her youth, he would have walked with her – he would have suggested it.

And he had come. He'd even chased her down to the lake, running like a boy.

"Where are you?" his husky voice called her from her thoughts.

"What?"

"It is not good for my pride that you can be so far away in your mind when . . ."

A flush of heat rose up from her toes. "No, it was the wonder of how I was feeling that made me question if this could even be real. I am frightened to make a mistake."

He pulled back and she could feel his passion cool. "I have never tried to hurt you."

"But you have hurt me, cut me to the quick, even so."

Staring down at her, his face grew serious. His lips were swollen with passion, but now they drew tight. "I cannot change the past, only promise for the future."

"And do you, do you promise?"

"I can only swear to do all that I can to care for you as you deserve.” He held her tight, cradling her against his chest. His heart was pounding, deep and heavy.

She'd always loved the sound of his heart, loved that it spoke of the life that filled him. Turning her face, she laid one kiss on his chest just above the steady beat.

She took a step back from him, trying to understand all that she saw in his eyes.

The grass was cold and damp, soaking through her slippers. She didn't care. Walking a few steps further from the edge of the lake, she sat, her skirts billowing about her, her flesh still bare above the waist. The scent of green filled her nose, and she inhaled deeply. The promise of growth had always made late spring her favorite time of year.

Promise. Her body sang with the word.

Raising her eyes, she stared at her husband. His shirt gaped open. His hair sprang in a cloud about his face. Her fingers had left it all a tangle. Even from where she sat she could see that his breathing was still fast and heavy. And his eyes – they stared down at her full of all she had ever hoped to see.

Or was she fooling herself?

A clock's pendulum changed direction less often than her thoughts. Either she offered her trust this one last time or she didn't. She could not debate forever.

It was wonderful to think about setting Richard a task to prove himself, but that was all really a game. There was nothing he could do that would persuade her one way or the other, no single thing he could do that would show that he loved her – no, it was not even love that she was looking for. It was commitment. Could he keep himself to her and only unto her? Could he be the father that Robbie needed? Could they form the family she had always dreamed of? Have further children?

There was no challenge that would answer these questions, only time.

Leaning back on the grass, her hands supporting her, she pulled in a deep breath, letting her breasts rise and fall. Richard's gaze focused there, watching the gentle motion.

"Come sit beside me," she said, raising a hand in invitation.

Without a word, without a complaint, he came and slid down to the grass, pausing only to remove his jacket, which he slipped about her shoulders. The heat of his body clung to it, warming her. She turned her face to nuzzle the fine wool, to inhale his scent.

"It is beautiful here." He gazed out across the lake. The wind caused fine ripples to move across it and the moonlight glittered in a thousand fragments. "I don't know why I haven't come home more often."

"Do you really wish to discuss that now?"

"Yes and no," he replied. "We have so much to say, but I fear that each word will drive us further apart rather than bring us together."

"Can we be farther apart than we have been? I think even hate is closer than the indifference that has been between us."

"I have never been indifferent to you," he said, turning to look at her. His gaze focused on her face and not lower. "I have just never known how to explain all that I felt."

"Perhaps then this is the time.” She laughed low in her chest. "I must admit that I'd just decided to be done with setting you tasks – it seemed a silly idea. But, the fact that you can look at my eyes and not stare at my naked breasts does say something."

"And that I want to talk, instead of . . ."

"Well, I am hoping you want both.” She was glad he could not see her blush in the darkening light. "It would not be a good start if I discovered you didn't want to press me back in the grass, to have your way with me. I must admit I find myself a confused soul. I do not want you to only want – to only – to only want sex, but neither do I want you to not want it. Am I sounding as confused as I feel?"

"No." His voice was almost a growl. She could feel the tension flowing from him. "I understand completely," he continued. "And trust me, I would have you in the grass, your skirts above your waist, if I wasn't so deeply afraid of mucking it all up again."

"Oh." There wasn't a lot she had to say to that. Wasn't that actually her fear – that they'd have a magical evening and then she'd wake up and it would all fall apart?

He reached over and slipped his fingers between hers. His fingers were long and slender but still so much thicker than her own, so much stronger.

"Why did you still need Coquette when you had me?” She kept her eyes fastened on the rippling lake as she spoke. It was so much easier to speak if she did not look at him.

"God, why does a man need any woman?” He suddenly squeezed her fingers tight. "No, I did not mean that the way it sounded. The simple answer is because I was young, but that sounds little better. All my life I'd grown up free. Anything I wanted was mine for the asking. I know that the general consensus is that it is better to be the older son, but I do not think life could be much better than it was for me. There was enough money that I would never want, never even come close to it. And I had none of the responsibility. Oh, I was expected to learn how the estates ran and how to do the accounts, but I wasn't actually required to do any of it. That was all Paul's job. I was the spare, the safety net. I was allowed to go to war – which was horrible and yet glorious. I still have nightmares about what I saw, but I have never felt so alive.

"And then Paul came up with the idea that I marry you. I'd always liked you and he knew that. It was not an outlandish idea and once the lawyers decided that it was legal the way the contracts were written it seemed to make a great deal of sense. I figured I'd get a pretty and respectable wife – one I did like – and I'd have to go through none of the rubbish of the Season and sweet, young chits. It all seemed so easy, like one more perfect part of my perfect life."

"And I wasn't – easy that is?"

"How does a man answer such a question without causing insult? In most ways you were easy, but as the wedding approached I began to understand how much being married would curtail my adventures. You would know my hours, know the state of my clothing after a night on the town – even know the state of my breath. And I realized that I hadn't known nearly as many women as I wanted. I know that sounds crass, but God, I was so young. I know that you were innocent, but now I realize that I was equally so. I was a boy being asked to be a man – and I was not ready. I do not mean it as an excuse. It is just the way it was."

Lifting his hand onto her lap she stared down at the hands. They had changed over the last years, grown stronger, grown rougher. Had the man changed as well?

If she was honest she knew that she had. She'd loved him as a girl, but she'd also loved the romance of the situation, loved being wanted for herself, not just her position. It had been so exciting to think that he wanted her so much that he'd be willing to risk his brother's ire in order to have her. Her whole life she'd known she had this great marriage planned – to have someone willing to risk it all for her had been enchanting. And what could have been more wonderful than being able to risk it all, while actually risking nothing. She'd gotten her great marriage on her own terms – or so she'd thought.

If she was truly honest had not that hurt as much as anything, the knowledge that her great romance was only dust? That she had only been wanted for position then as always. She had loved Richard, but had she loved the romance as much as the man? Had she truly seen him as a person or only as the answer to her girlish fantasies – fantasies that Paul had never touched?

"You have grown quiet. Have my words upset you even more?" Richard asked.

Her lips quivered. "No, if anything it is my own thoughts that have upset me. I realize that for so many years I have blamed you without ever looking at my own actions with honest eyes."

"I am not sure I understand."

"I am not sure you need to.” She lifted his hand to her lips and lightly kissed the knuckles. "What would this beginning again entail?"

Chapter Ten

Richard wasn't sure he believed his ears. Or his eyes for that matter. How often did a man sit by the lake on a spring evening with his wife's breasts bare before him? And how often did he just talk when he found himself in such a situation?

He must be all kinds of a fool to not be pressing her, not to be laying her back on the soft earth and . . .

But, the talk was more important. It sounded as if she was willing to try again – and if she were there would be plenty of evenings when they could stroll by the lake, or stroll to the summerhouse, or up to the attics, or even just stay in the parlor before the fire.

But only if she was willing to give him a chance.

"Are you going to answer me?" Her voice was light, but the question was not.

"I wish that I had a full answer to give you, but I do not. I am as lost in this matter as you. Perhaps more so as I was so late in realizing how greatly it mattered."

"That is not very helpful."

"I know." He looked across at their joined hands. "If we were to meet for the first time what would happen?"

"Well, I wouldn't be sitting here with my dress about my waist."

"I should hope not – well, perhaps that is not quite true. I am sure that this, and more, would be exactly what I was hoping would happen."

"On the first night?” Was there a touch of excitement in her voice?

"I am a man. I would certainly dream of it.” It was his turn to lift their joined hands to his lips. He kissed each small knuckle and then turned her hand around to lay a soft kiss upon her palm. His tongue darted forward to taste the soft flesh.

She gasped. "And do women – do women ever – do women ever let you make love to them on the first night?"

"I would not call it making love – and it has been years, but, yes, a certain type of woman can be persuaded.” He kissed her palm again.

"Are we talking about prostitutes?” There was a breathless quality to her.

"Well, certainly it would apply to them, but I am not sure that I've ever heard the terms hopes or dreams applied to them. A man knows exactly what he is getting – or so I've heard. No, I was talking of a certain type of lady, slightly older, experienced, perhaps widowed."

"And they . . . on the first night?"

Another kiss, this one on her wrist. "Not often, but yes. Most often they do require some wooing. Nobody likes to be thought cheap – or easy."

"And how do you woo them?” Her eyes turned to his bright and curious.

A kiss half way up her forearm. "Do you really wish to know?"

Did she blush again? It was hard to be sure, but it seemed he could feel heat rising from her skin.

"I think so."

"Do you wish me to tell you – or should I show you? Should we pretend it is our first meeting and I am determined to have you in my bed by dawn?"

That definitely was a blush.

Suddenly she pulled back from him, twisting away. With a couple of quick jerks she had her gown back upon her shoulders, covering her beauty from his eager gaze. "Well, your grace, I must tell you that no matter how easy you may think me you would never get me to lie with you on the damp lawns upon a first meeting. How dare you think that I would do such a thing."