The Unclaimed Duchess (23 page)

“Then do it,” she murmured as she lifted her mouth for another kiss. “I'm yours, so
show
me now that you are mine. I have waited for that forever.”

He growled out an answer and quickly went to work on the little pearl buttons that flowed along the front of her gown. Quickly he freed the row and pulled her to a seated position to glide the fabric away, along with the thin chemise beneath.

She arched her back as he stared down at her, eyes dilated with a desire unlike any other she had seen from him. She realized it was because this time there would be no holding back, no regrets or withdrawal. Tonight he would truly become hers and hers alone.

The very idea made her shiver with delight and anticipation.

“Are you cold?” he murmured as he slipped to his knees on the floor below the settee and turned her so that she was seated. With a tug, he slouched her down, half naked and spread out before him.

“Will you offer to keep me warm if I say yes?” she asked, smiling.

He grinned up at her. “Indeed, my lady. As your husband, it is my duty to attend to
all
your needs.”

“I look forward to that,” she whispered.

He laughed as he lifted up on his knees and cupped her breasts, bringing them together before he dropped his mouth to one tight, hard nipple. Anne relaxed her head against the settee cushions and surrendered to the wet tugging of his lips that brought electric pleasure to her nipples and seemed to arc through her entire body, settling in a pulse between her already damp thighs.

She tangled her fingers into Rhys's hair, holding him steady against her body, stroking his scalp with lazy brushes as he lapped and tasted each breast in turn.

Soon she was writhing against the settee, swept away by the rising pleasure just this simple touch inspired.

“More,” Rhys growled from below her, and gently urged her to lift her hips so he could pull away the remainder of her gown and under things.

“This is a familiar position,” Anne said as she lowered her bottom back on the cushion. “Me naked and vulnerable to you, but you utterly clothed and in control.”

Rhys stared at her a moment before he pushed to his feet. Never breaking eye contact with her, he slowly untied his cravat. He shoved his jacket away, then went to work on his embroidered vest and the shirt beneath.

Anne clenched her fingers into useless fists on the settee cushion as she watched more and more of her husband's skin revealed. God, he was beautiful naked. And hers. All hers from now on.

He hesitated at the trouser buttons. “Do you really think I'm in control?” he asked as he tugged the buttons free. “That I have
ever
been in control when touching you? Even when I pretended it at the beginning, in truth, I wanted to take you and claim you and touch you in ways that were far from gentlemanly. Far from polite.”

The pants dropped away and Anne sucked in a breath. His cock was fully hard, thrusting proudly against his stomach. She moved to the edge of the settee and reached for him, taking him in hand and stroking him from base to tip in one smooth motion, just as she so often had during their time together.

Rhys groaned and Anne smiled at him.

“I wish you had done all those wicked things to me, Rhys,” she whispered.

He cursed and returned to his knees before her, pushing her back on the settee. “Don't worry, love, I intend to do them all and more tonight.”

His mouth came down on hers, stealing her breath, and at the same time he positioned his cock at her dripping entrance and glided forward.

Rhys almost lost himself right then and there, as his wife's hot body welcomed him in, closing around him even tighter than her fist had, enveloping him in wet heat that felt like heaven. It had been so long since he breached her, and the last time it had been under duress and followed almost immediately by regret.

But tonight there would be no regrets. Only love. Only her. Only this.

He cupped her backside, dragging her forward to fully seat himself in her. She whimpered as her mouth came down on his shoulder. She was already on the edge, close to coming, and he wanted to feel her do that not against his mouth, not around his fingers, but while he drove into her.

He thrust, rolling his hips as he held her tightly to him, driving against her and within her as her legs wrapped around him and her head dipped back. She let out a wild, wanton cry and came almost imme
diately. The release was hard, her sheath tightened around him, rippling as the pleasure overtook her. He shut his eyes and groaned as her body milked him, urged him to take his own pleasure.

But no, not yet. He wanted to make her come at least once more before he joined her. And as her eyes fluttered open and her breathing rate lowered, he knew now he could mete out that pleasure over a long time. He could make her ache and beg and surrender in ways he had only dreamed of before.

He braced his arms on either side of her head and lifted up to look at her. Her gaze was glazed and unfocused as she smiled up at him. He returned the smile, then slowly rotated his hips. She caught her breath with a small gasp of “Oh!” and then looked at him in wonder.

He chuckled. “Did you think this was over? No, my love, it has only just begun.”

He repeated the swirl of his hips before she could answer and instead of words she uttered a low, gurgling groan. He continued the gentle thrust and swirl, bringing her back to the edge of release, but never allowing her to fall over.

“You torment me,” she finally gasped, grasping for his lower arms and digging her fingertips into the flesh as she reached for purchase.

He laughed, but in truth, this exercise was as much
torture for him. He had always been so careful to hold back, but now doing so was too difficult. He wanted to unleash his passion onto his wife. He wanted to show her how intense his feelings were for her.

And he wanted to pour his seed deep within her flesh.

“You are correct and it is time to end the torment,” he whispered, his breathing harsh and broken.

She smiled and lifted her hips but he shook his head.

“No, love. I want you to roll over for me.”

Anne withdrew a fraction. “Roll over?”

He nodded as he reluctantly withdrew his damp cock from her body. They both moaned in unison as he parted from her, but he managed to choke out, “Trust me. It will be most pleasurable for us both.”

She didn't argue. Slowly she rolled over on the settee and Rhys stared. God, how he loved her naked body. The curve of her shoulders rolled so elegantly into the valley of her back and the smooth roundness of her bottom. He lowered his lips to the spot just above her backside and kissed her there.

Anne bucked as she let out a cry of pleasure. Rhys stared. Apparently he had found a most sensitive spot. Very good information for later, but for now…

He wrapped an arm around her stomach, moving
her until her backside was lifted and he could see the damp entrance of her sex. He positioned himself carefully and then drove forward.

Anne's back arched and her cry filled the air. She glanced over her shoulder at him, completely unaware of how sensual she looked at that moment.

“My God, it's entirely different!” she gasped as he drove forward again. “Rhys!”

“Come with me, angel,” he ordered as his thrusts grew more erratic. He could scarcely control himself anymore. Not when her body gripped him so tightly. Not when she pushed back to meet him and cried out with wicked and wild abandon.

“Yes!” she finally screamed, her inner walls tugging harder, pulling him deeper.

He no longer held back. With a roar that filled the room, Rhys pumped his seed into her, his thrusts becoming wild and hard as he lost himself in the pleasure of her body.

He didn't know how much time had gone by when he finally came back to himself. He was still bent over Anne's body. Her breath came in shaking heaves and her arms shook.

He withdrew reluctantly and took her into his arms as they settled back on the narrow settee, lying face to face, as close as two people could be.

Anne was silent for a long time, but her wide,
loving smile said everything he needed to hear. He kissed her, gently, and when he pulled away, he said, “I love you.”

Her smile grew even larger as she whispered back, “And I love you, Rhys. I will always love you.”

“And
I
will always fight for you, from now on. You are the only thing worth winning.”

She settled her head against his chest, their breathing merging as one. For the first time, perhaps, in his entire life, Rhys was content. No matter what happened, no matter what came, the love he felt for her and the life he would live with her…they were worth fighting for.

Six Months Later

W
hen the occasional whisper about the parentage of the Duke of Waverly arose, it was generally squashed immediately by the reminder that if anyone in the world acted as if he had the most exalted title a man could hold without actually being royalty, it was Waverly. Those who still questioned were silenced by the fact that his accuser had been proven quite mad before he died in the asylum, his beloved sister at his side.

Of course this conversation almost always led to a discussion of how very much improved Waverly was, how marriage had softened and changed him, making him a far better man.

If Rhys had overheard any of these exchanges, he wouldn't have disagreed with that last statement. He
certainly
felt
like a better man now that his mind was not forever consumed by rank and privilege and power struggles. There was only one person to thank for that gift, and she sat across the parlor from him, chatting with Simon's wife. Anne glanced at him, almost as if she felt his stare, and smiled.

“You are utterly besotted.” Simon laughed as he clapped a hand on Rhys's shoulder and forced his brother's attention back to him.

“I am indeed,” Rhys said with a chuckle of his own. “Quite blissfully so.”

“I'm very happy for that fact.” Simon's expression grew serious. “For a while I didn't think you would ever feel this way. That you would let happiness pass you by in exchange for less important things.”

A shiver rolled through Rhys's body at the thought. “I don't like to consider what would have happened if I had done so.”

His brother's eyes softened and then he lifted his glass and addressed the room. “On this Christmas Eve, then, I would like to say a toast to our family. Secret as it may be, it remains
ours
.”

Rhys grinned as he lifted his glass. Yes, he did have a new family. He had grown closer to the sister he shared with Simon, and Simon sometimes hinted there was more to know about their family that he would one day reveal.

Each person in the room drank, and then Anne cocked her head.

“It has been six months since we discovered the truth about your father, gentlemen. We all know there are other children that he sired. I often wonder if you intend to seek those other people out?”

Lillian nodded. “Yes, I find I'm curious about them myself.”

Simon and Rhys exchanged a look, and Rhys saw that his brother seemed troubled.

“Do you know something you have withheld?” he asked, setting his drink down behind him.

Simon nodded. “As you know, I have been kept very busy not only by my lovely wife”—Lillian blushed deeply but laughed—“but also by the work I must do on my father's old town home here in London. Just like in our country home in Billingham, he has left his records in a state. It takes hours to sift through them. But recently…just this very week, in fact, I found some new information about one of the remaining children he sired out of wedlock.”

Rhys swallowed hard. He had wondered about his other siblings, but had kept those thoughts at bay, focusing instead on his own future with Anne. But now he steadied himself on the nearest chair as the world briefly spun before him.

Anne seemed to recognize his difficulty, for she
got to her feet and moved to his side. When she touched his hand, everything was set to rights again. He smiled at her, drawing from her strength and her love in the way he had come to depend upon over the past few blissful months. He had never thought it possible, but it seemed his love for her grew with each day they spent together.

“I wish you had told me,” Lillian said softly as she joined her own husband. “I realize this situation continues to cause you great pain.”

Simon smiled as he touched his wife's cheek briefly. “We've been busy with the holiday celebrations. And I wasn't certain how to approach the situation. You see, the man is another son of a titled gentleman.”

Rhys shut his eyes. “Someone titled.”

“No, this time he is a younger son. But one we are acquainted with,” Simon said. “In fact, it's someone you have not always gotten along with.”

Anne's fingers tightened in Rhys's hand as he said, “Who?”

“Caleb Talbot,” Simon said softly.

Rhys didn't react for a long moment as he thought of his last encounter with Talbot. He had reached out to the man, sensing his pain, but Talbot had rebuffed his overtures. Since then, he had disappeared from Society once more. Rhys thought of the anguish he had seen on the other man's face. Although he denied
Rhys, Talbot had suggested he understood Rhys's difficulties.

“It may be possible he knows the truth already,” Rhys said softly. “It would explain his sudden and complete departure from Society and his separation from his brother, the Earl of Baybary, when they were once thick as thieves.”

Simon nodded. “Yes, I thought the same. But I learned my lesson, Rhys. I don't think it is wise to approach Talbot and force this truth upon him.”

“No?” Rhys said, thinking of all the ways his life had changed since he learned the truth. The journey had been difficult, but so much worth the pain. Without the truth, he might not have ever allowed himself to love Anne. Or to change as a person.

“If he does have an inkling about his birth,” Anne said softly, “he might come to
you
in time.”

Rhys looked at her, then to Simon again. “And if he does, we'll welcome him.”

Simon nodded. “Indeed we will. As we would any of the children our father sired over the years.” There was a long silence, but then Simon shook away the maudlin thoughts. “But this is Christmas! We shouldn't moon over facts we cannot change. Come, let us go to the salon where we'll have some mulled wine and make promises for the new year that we will instantly break!”

Lillian laughed as she took her husband's arm, and the couple left the room. Rhys turned to Anne and offered his own arm, but she didn't take it. Instead she looked at him, exploring his face with those seeing eyes of hers.

“I would like to give you your present,” she said softly.

Rhys lowered his arm. “My present? Do you not wish to wait until our families join us tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “I don't wish to wait another moment.”

His eyes widened. Her gown didn't have pockets and she didn't hold a package, so he could imagine there was only one kind of gift she could offer him. He grinned.

“You know, people will look for us. The possibility of being caught in a rather awkward situation is very high. You are a naughty little minx.”

Anne laughed as she swatted his arm playfully. “Not that, you oaf. Not yet.” She stopped laughing. “Although my present is related.”

He stared at her, brow knitted together. Her hand shook as she reached out and took his, then moved it to cover her belly.

“I'm having a baby, Rhys,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. “Right now your child grows inside of me. I've known for two weeks, but wanted
to surprise you for the holiday. Yet seeing you tonight, loving you so much, I couldn't wait another moment to share this with you.”

Rhys continued to stare, his mouth partly open as he felt the warmth of her body beneath his hand.

“A-a child?” he finally repeated.

She nodded. “I hope you are happy.”

With a shout of pleasure, Rhys swung her into his arms and spun around the parlor. “Happy! I am the happiest man in the country! A baby, Anne, great God that is good news!”

He set her down and looked into her face, which had softened with relief.

“Were you afraid I wouldn't be happy?”

She shrugged. “I couldn't help but remember when you said we should never have children to protect the Waverly line.”

He touched her face. “Darling, that was another life. Another man who said those terrible things. The Waverly line is perfectly protected by me, and if it is a son who is born, I'm sure he will be a good and decent duke. I couldn't be happier. With this news and with you.”

Then he bent his head and kissed her once more.