To Desire a Wicked Duke (30 page)

When he thrust inside her in one, long, sleek motion,
Tess gasped, overwhelmed by each thick inch stretching her, filling her until the pressure was beyond exquisite.

Her longing was raw-edged, nearly out of control.

When she tilted her hips, drawing him deeper, Ian penetrated her even more fully and took possession of the rhythm, stroking inside her again and again, igniting sparks of pure passion.

She shuddered with ecstasy and knew it spurred him on.

“Tess …” His thick voice was hoarse with desire, a plea and demand both.

In answer, she wrapped her arms tightly about his neck and her legs around his hips as she struggled to drag air into her lungs. Her body welcomed him with frenzied need, savoring the power of him as he withdrew only to impale her again.

Their lovemaking was almost frantic. His fingers clenching on her bare buttocks, he stared into her eyes and drove harder, faster, the corded fabric of his breeches chafing her inner thighs with a friction that only heightened the ruthless sensations tearing through her. Ian’s eyes burned bright, hunger sharpening his features as he pounded into her. He wasn’t gentle, yet Tess craved his violent intensity, for she felt it herself.

This wasn’t a fight, wasn’t a battle. This was confirmation of life. This was gratitude and relief and reassurance. This was passion at its most elemental … a passion that threatened to burst inside her at any moment.

Caught in the tempest of desire, Tess blindly found
his mouth. Ian answered rapaciously, kissing her with fierce need, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, meeting urgency with hunger, heat with fire. His tongue plunged into her mouth like the driving rhythm of his flesh sheathed deep in the burning-hot core of her body.

Their hips thrust together wildly until abruptly the heat exploded in an incendiary rush of flame.

Her cry was nearly a scream, his groan a shout as he poured his seed into her.

The searing wave finally crested, then slowly, slowly calmed. Eventually, Ian sagged against her and gathered her close. Tess heard the air rasping in his throat, but it was a long while before he stirred enough to lift one hand to her cheek.

The sweep of his finger was a whisper as he gave a hoarse, tender laugh. “I confess I never expected such a welcome reception.”

Tess felt another kind of heat flood her body, this one of scalding embarrassment. Chagrined to have flung herself at Ian in that desperate way, she tried to make light of her hunger.

“You should not read too much into my response, your grace. I was merely celebrating now that the danger is over. A release of tension, nothing more.”

“Is that all?” he murmured skeptically, his lips nuzzling her ear.

“Of course. I was concerned that you might have been shot.”

He hesitated a moment. “Should I be flattered, love?” he drawled. “I never thought you would care enough to worry about my fate.”

Tess started to reply in that same flippant tone, but then fell silent.

She cared, she realized, her heart sinking with a different kind of dread.

She cared far too much.

Ian must have sensed her dismay, for he lifted his head to examine her face intently. When her silence dragged on, his expression clouded.

Belatedly, Tess attempted to conceal her feelings. “It was only natural for me to worry about your fate this evening,” she claimed, averting her gaze as she shaded the truth. “I was accustomed to fretting about Richard constantly. I spent two years wondering if he would come home from the war in one piece. No doubt I reacted tonight out of simple habit.”

It was the wrong thing to say, judging from the way Ian’s body stiffened.

“How charming,” he observed in a mocking tone, “to know that you are dwelling on your late betrothed while your husband is still inside you.”

Tess bit her lip, realizing that she had angered him.

Yet Ian gave her no chance to express regret for her callous choice of words. His face was irritated and frowning when he added cuttingly, “You can always close your eyes and pretend that I am Richard making love to you.”

She couldn’t pretend any such thing, Tess thought, feeling a fresh wave of despair. She’d never been intimate with Richard, but if she had, her body would certainly have known the difference between the two men. Ian fulfilled her needs as a woman. He gave her the wild passion she had always dreamed of, completing her in a way, she now realized, Richard never could have done.

This time, however, her silence had an even stronger effect on Ian. His gaze turned hard and cold.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of her body and eased Tess to her feet, then abruptly turned away.

Feeling the aching emptiness of his withdrawal, she wanted to reach out to him and pull him back into her arms. Instead, she leaned weakly against the wall behind her for support.

It shook her to realize the distressing truth: She wouldn’t want Richard in her bed even if she could have had him. She only wanted Ian.

Tess shut her eyes, feeling a terrible guilt even while acknowledging the danger she was in. Her desire for Ian frightened her. If she was this feverish for him, he would burn her to cinders. He was a man who had never been in love, who had never
wanted
to love anyone, particularly not a woman he had long disdained and had been forced to wed.

She heard him mutter a low oath as he began to undress. Tossing his coat on a chair, Ian shot her a dark glance. “I realize you’ve enshrined your saintly Richard in your memories, but someday you will have to accept that he is gone and move beyond him.”

Tess swallowed, knowing she had to apologize for giving him the wrong impression earlier. “I am sorry, Ian. I did not mean to imply that I was only thinking of Richard. Of course I care what happens to you—”

He waved a hand to cut her off. “It hardly matters. Do you mean to remain up all night?” he demanded, his tone impatient and commanding. “If not, you should go to bed. I would like to sleep for a few hours. I have to travel to Falmouth early tomorrow morning to lay charges against Banks and his fellow thieves.”

Tess felt her own body stiffen, but she raised her chin, refusing to be cowed by Ian’s anger. Perhaps his harsh reaction was for the best, for she could use the acrimony simmering between them in order to protect herself.

Pushing away from the wall, she went to the washbasin to clean herself of his seed wetting her inner thighs. Then Tess crossed to the bed and climbed in. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she managed to keep her tone surprisingly even when she spoke.

“Since you will be away tomorrow, could we discuss our immediate future? For several reasons, I would prefer to return to London as soon as possible. Ned needs better care, for one thing, and I know of a brilliant physician in London who understands the special needs of veterans. And Fanny is eager to return, since she must sever her relations with her past life before she can wed Basil. Moreover, I should begin planning my next charity event soon. It will be
another musical evening, and there are a thousand details to see to if it is to be successful.”

“Very well,” Ian said tersely as he shed the last of his clothing.

“What does that mean?” Tess asked.

“I agree, you should return to London. In fact, you should go tomorrow—and take Eddowes with you. My library has been fully cataloged, so we no longer need to maintain the pretense of him being needed here. You don’t require me to accompany you, I presume? I have served my purpose, playing matchmaker for your friends.”

At Ian’s icy proclamation, Tess made no reply, telling herself she was grateful that he wouldn’t protest her abrupt departure. In all likelihood, she had imagined the hint of bitterness in his voice when he’d pointed out that his usefulness was at an end.

Moments later, he extinguished the lamps and joined her in bed. Yet he didn’t draw her into his arms, as was his recent habit. Instead, he gave her his back.

Tess also rolled onto her side, away from him, glad for the space that separated them. The darkness that fell over the bedchamber was relieved only by the faint glow of the hearth fire. Rather than close her eyes, however, she watched the flickering shadows made by the flames.

She still felt greatly shaken to realize she couldn’t control her desire for Ian. She’d wanted to believe the hunger that had befallen her was merely a weakness of the body, an obsession of the mind. But she had been deceiving herself.

What she was feeling was a frailty of the heart.

Fanny was wrong for thinking that passion wouldn’t lead to more tender emotions, Tess now knew. She couldn’t simply cut off her feelings for Ian. It was too late to hope she could remain unscathed.

He was a demanding, alluring, dangerous lover who made her feel things for him that she’d never felt for Richard … which only increased her burden of guilt.

As she lay there staring at the wall, Tess flinched to realize another bitter truth.

They might have vanquished the castle ghost, but Richard’s ghost still haunted them.

Much to her relief, Ian was gone before Tess woke the next morning. After breakfasting, she had Alice pack her bags while she wrote farewell messages to Vicar Potts and her other Falwell neighbors. Then Tess thanked the Hiddlestons and the castle staff, promising to visit Cornwall again in the near future.

A chill rain was falling by the time her carriage departed for London. Ned had resisted riding inside like gentry, claiming it was more proper for him to share the driver’s seat with her coachman, Spruggs, and more comfortable besides, insisting that “a spot of rain will not fash me.” Therefore, there were only four passengers inside the traveling chaise. Alice sat beside Tess, with Basil and Fanny in the opposite seat.

Tess tried to keep up a pretense of cheerful spirits rather than staring out the window and dwelling on her morose thoughts. Yet she couldn’t help noting
that the sea resembled a dull sheet of rumpled metal … gray and cold like her heart.

She was profoundly glad for the chance to be apart from Ian, however temporarily. By the time he followed her to London, perhaps she would have devised a better plan to save herself the pain and heartache she knew was coming.

At least her friends’ prospect for happiness had improved greatly. Very shortly Fanny would leave the glamorous, desperate world of the demirep behind her forever. Once the marriage took place, Tess intended to use her new social connections as Rotham’s duchess to help the courtesan become more respectable. With such a high rank, she should have considerable influence over Fanny’s acceptance by society, especially when combined with the power and influence of their other close friends—namely the Loring sisters—who had recently married into the peerage.

Meanwhile, Fanny meant to persevere in her return to propriety. She had recently sold her large London house, which had been her place of business, so she would live and write at her much smaller private home in St. John’s Wood, north of Hyde Park. Until the wedding, Basil would maintain his lodgings at Fanny’s boardinghouse and travel daily wherever he was needed by his new employer—either Rotham’s London mansion in Cavendish Square or Bellacourt in Richmond.

Fanny also planned to make renewed overtures to her remaining family members in Hampshire. Her mother in particular had barely spoken to her since
she’d launched her wicked career as a Cyprian all those years ago.

As for Tess, with her marriage on such shaky ground, she was unsure where she should live, at least until she decided how to proceed with Ian.

No doubt it would be unwise for her to reside at Bellacourt just now, particularly without Ian present. His young ward, Jamie, could easily be confused by her uncertain role in his life. A motherless child seeking love could become too attached to her, and Tess knew she could become much too fond of the darling toddler in return. It would be painful for them both if they formed a bond that then had to be broken because she and Ian lived apart.