The Duke of Ice Page 14

  He brought his hand beneath her arm, along her rib cage, until he found her breast. He massaged her through the layers of her clothing, and she wanted to weep with want.

  “Always too many damn clothes,” he muttered against her mouth, not fully breaking their kiss.

  She tangled her tongue with his, cutting off further speech. A sound vibrated deep in his throat, which she felt more than heard. Joy spread through her. How long she’d imagined this moment. And it far exceeded the fantasy.

  His thumb came up over the edge of her bodice and brushed along her flesh. She wanted to peel her clothes away and do the same to his. Sliding her hand down from his neck to the edge of his collarbone, she tugged at his cravat, loosening the knot.

  He ended the kiss with a groan, and she opened her eyes, her body quivering.

  He backed away, wiping his hand over his mouth again, his eyes wild with desire. “I thought I would kiss you and that would be enough. Then we’d part on friendly terms.”

  She wanted to laugh with the absurdity of that. One kiss had never been enough after that first time. Keeping their hands from each other had been a distinct problem in their short but torrid relationship. “And is it? Enough, I mean.”

  “No,” he rasped. But he turned and went to the door. She sagged with disappointment even as every instinct she possessed said this was for the best.

  Then she heard the click of the lock just before he pivoted, pressing his back to the door. “Do you want me to go?” he asked.

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “There are two other doors.” He strode to one of them, and she heard him throw the lock while she rushed to the other.

  “There’s no lock on this one.” Before she could turn, she felt him approach behind her. “Then we shall have to be quiet. And hope no one tries to come in. If memory serves, we had to do this once before.”

  The third—and last—time they’d been together. They’d taken advantage of a seldom-used sitting room while attending a party one evening. They’d been young and foolish, overcome with emotion and physical yearning. They ought to know better now, to practice caution and reservation.

  And yet, she didn’t think she could do so, especially not when she was enveloped in his spicy scent and his breath tickled the back of her neck. As if reading her mind, his attention focused on that spot as his lips caressed her skin.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the door. Over the next several minutes, he did things to her neck with his lips and tongue that aroused her more than she ever thought possible. She splayed one hand next to her shoulder against the door for support, and with her other hand, she reached back and gripped his thigh. His muscle was taut beneath her palm, and he brought his body against hers, his groin nudging into her backside.

  His breath came hard and fast against her skin. She clutched at him, eager for more. The whisking sound of her skirt filled the near quiet as he lifted her dress from behind. Cool air rushed over the backs of her legs. When the fabric was bunched between them, she felt his touch, the gentle stroke of his fingertips along the back of her thigh.

  His tongue traced the outer shell of her ear. “Part your legs,” he whispered.

  She did as he bade, widening her stance. His hand moved forward and found her core. He lightly teased her flesh, swirling around the most sensitive part of her as his lips and tongue ravaged her ear. She turned her head and laid her cheek against the wood, her breath rasping from her mouth as her pulse climbed.

  “You are very wet for me,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw. “Do you remember how it was?”

  He’d always tormented her until she was not only wet and begging for release; he didn’t stop until she came. Only then would he take his own pleasure. There’d been only one occasion when his pleasure had come first—

  Her thought was completely interrupted by the press of his finger inside her. He went slowly, his touch seductively methodical. She gasped softly at the welcome intrusion, and she couldn’t keep her hips from arching back.

  “Do you want more?” he asked, sliding out briefly before edging in again.

  She kept her eyes closed, all her attention focused on the ecstasy building within her. “I want everything.” She turned her head farther, seeking his kiss.

  His mouth ravished hers as his finger thrust deep into her. She would’ve cried out if not for the preoccupation of his kiss. Their position was a tad awkward, and it wasn’t long before he broke his lips from hers, returning his mouth to her neck. Her hips moved with the thrusts of his hand, and she rose onto her toes as need tightened inside her. Her pleasure built, and her body tensed.

  “Come for me, Violet.” The soft command came against her ear, and it was all the urging she needed.

  Her muscles clenched, and she sucked in a breath as her orgasm crashed into her.

  “Shhh.” He kissed her ear, her neck, her jaw, all while his hand kept up its relentless assault.

  Before the sensations had faded, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to a chaise, where he laid her upon the cushions. She opened her eyes and saw the harsh control etched into his features. His eyes were dark, his lips parted as he pulled his cravat away. He tore his coat from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor.

  He stopped and stared down at her. “Was that enough?” he asked tentatively.

  She kicked her shoes off and reached for him, her fingers pulling at the buttons of his waistcoat. “My God, no.”

  “Good.” He sounded relieved, which made her smile.

  “Keep doing that.” He leaned down and kissed her hard and fast, his tongue sliding against hers and his teeth catching her lips as he straightened to remove his waistcoat.

  “Smiling?” she asked. At his answering nod, she said, “You rarely do. I miss that.”

  He stared down at her, his gaze familiarly seductive, and his lips curved up very slowly. The smile broadened until it tautened his cheekbones and lit his eyes.

  Her insides turned to jelly. “Nick,” she breathed. There he was at last. “Come here. Please.” She reclined and parted her legs.

  He tossed up her skirts and looked at her sex. Once, she would’ve succumbed to embarrassment and squeezed her legs closed, but Nick had taught her to be proud and confident, to use her body to please herself and him. When she’d awaited her new husband nude in their bedchamber, he’d chastised her horribly. Then when he’d discovered she wasn’t a virgin, he’d called her a whore.

  She closed her eyes to banish the memories.

  “What is it?” Nick’s gentle question jolted her as his lips trailed along her cheek.

  She opened her eyes. “Nothing. I don’t want to think of anything else. Just you. Us. Here. Now.”

  Curling her hand around his neck, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth on a quest to reclaim him, even if it was just for now. He settled between her legs, and she tugged her skirts up, wishing she could disrobe. But they didn’t dare. This would have to suffice. She felt the length of his cock against her sex, his clothing the only barrier between them.

  So long as her hand was in the vicinity, she put it to good use, unbuttoning his fall. She slipped her hand inside and found the warmth of his flesh. He groaned into her mouth.

  His hips pressed into hers, smashing her hand between them, but bringing him into delicious contact with her hungry flesh. She worked her hand along his length and, after a few more teasing moments, pulled him free.

  His fingers stroked her clitoris, spinning her toward ecstasy once more. Then he parted her flesh, and she guided him inside. He went slowly, and her body greeted his entry with a shudder. Then he filled her completely, and she knew a joy she’d never thought to experience again.

  He began to move, retreating from her and then pushing forward with increasing speed. She clutched at his backside, drawing him deep inside her. Lifting her legs, she curled them around his hips. He thrust faster and tore his mo
uth from hers, gasping.

  She dug her fingers into him and rose to meet him, their bodies snapping together in a familiar rhythm. They fit together perfectly, just as she remembered.

  Thought receded from her mind as her body took over. She was only aware of his heat, his insistent thrusts, and the hard pulse of his breathing. Pressure built inside her, then broke free. Light exploded behind her eyes, and she worked to keep from crying out.

  “Violet.”

  She recognized the desperation in his plea as well as the clenching of the muscles in his backside. She kissed him, devouring his moan as he spilled himself inside her.

  They continued to move together, their bodies slowing as satisfaction claimed them. Violet relaxed back against the cushions, releasing his mouth to take in air. He did the same, working to lower his pulse. After another moment, he left her to sit at the edge of the chaise.

  He looked over at her and reached down for his cravat before offering it to her. “Do you want to use this?”

  She shook her head. “Petticoats can serve more than one purpose.” She sat up and pulled her skirts down, covertly tidying their mess. “I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

  “I do, in fact.” He’d looked away but now speared her with an intense stare. “I remember everything. Just as I’ll remember this.”

  That sounded rather final. He’d wanted to leave their past behind and apparently thought this would do that. “Is that enough, then?” she asked quietly.

  “I think it has to be, don’t you?” He swiped his hand across his mouth and briefly pulled on his chin. “We’re different people now. Surely you recognize that.”

  Yes, she did. That had been wonderful and indeed reminiscent of what they’d shared. But it had been different too. There’d been an element of need and desperation, of something lost that couldn’t be found. “We can’t go back.”

  He shook his head. “No matter how much we may want to.”

  She understood. And she was grateful for this. Maybe now she wouldn’t think of him with searing regret and abject guilt. Maybe now she could think of him and smile.

  He picked up her shoes and slipped them onto her feet as if she were Cinderella. Except this was no fairy tale. There would be no happy endings and no ever after.

  She stood up and shook out her skirts. She gave him a smile and said, “I will always cherish you, and I wish you well.”

  Then she walked softly from the room, careful to close the door behind her.

  Chapter 11

  Oberon’s hooves pounded the wet sand, sending salt and spray flying as Nick ran him across the beach. The last two days had been too stormy to ride. Both man and beast were ecstatic to be out, even if the heavens were spitting rain periodically.

  The last week had passed at a particularly glacial pace. Since arriving home from the house party, Nick hadn’t been his usual self. The things he typically did to pass his days—working in his office or on the estate, fishing, even riding as he was now—had failed to keep him satisfied. He’d left the Linfords’ feeling remarkably good, his sexual encounter with Violet fulfilling him in a way he hadn’t been in years. That feeling had lasted about a day.

  By the time he’d gotten back to Kilve Hall, he’d begun to question everything. Hell, he’d started questioning everything the moment he’d met Violet at the party. She’d awakened him from a long, dismal sleep, and he was surprised to find he didn’t want to reclaim it.

  Which left him wondering what the hell to do next.

  Simon had disappeared to parts unknown, which had left Nick to query his staff. And damn if they weren’t perplexed by his behavior. Nick nearly smiled at their bemusement. Poor Rand. Nick had asked his valet last night if he ought to marry again. Rand had gaped at him, then assumed he was jesting. When Nick had said he wasn’t, Rand’s eyes had nearly popped from his head. In the end, he’d said he certainly couldn’t offer advice.

  So today, Nick was seeking better counsel. He rode up the path from the beach to the small graveyard overlooking the ocean. Dismounting, he let Oberon graze in a familiar spot, then went to Jacinda’s grave. Next to hers was the smaller headstone belonging to their son.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit in a while. I was at a house party.” He bent and brushed sand from her name on the stone. “You would have liked it. There was archery—no, you wouldn’t have cared for that. You would have liked the silly games and the dancing. And the shopping trip.” At the mention of the latter, he couldn’t help but think of Violet and how fortunate he was that she hadn’t taken the excursion.

  He’d gone to the sitting room to watch the women leave, never imagining that she would be there. He certainly hadn’t planned to lie with her, but the opportunity was too perfect. And he had hoped that perhaps they could put the past to rest for good. Instead, he feared they’d made it harder to forget.

  For him, at least. He’d no idea how she felt. It was entirely possible that she had moved on, and part of him hoped she had. It made it much easier to think of her continuing with her life as opposed to her thinking of him in the same manner in which he was thinking of her.

  He dreamed of her. He relived that afternoon. He wanted her.

  Looking at his wife’s grave, he tried to bring Jacinda’s image to his mind. She’d been two years his senior, a dark-haired pale beauty with eyes the color of rich, dark earth after a dousing spring rain.

  He’d married her after returning from the war and inheriting the dukedom. He’d needed a wife, and she’d been among the first women he’d met when he’d gone to London for the Season. Eager to avoid the social whirl, he’d decided to marry her rather quickly. She was well-mannered, came from an excellent family, and possessed a keen intelligence. He hadn’t been interested in falling love, not after losing Maurice and then his uncle.

  “In retrospect, it wasn’t very fair to you,” he said softly. “I know you loved me, and I’m afraid I didn’t deserve it.” He hadn’t loved her, but he’d been fond of her. He supposed he’d been practicing to become the Duke of Ice, a man who didn’t feel. But it had taken one more horrific tragedy, the loss of his son, for him to fully become that man. To love was to hurt, and he’d done enough of that to last him a lifetime.

  And he’d been ready to keep himself from that messy emotion forever. Until he’d encountered Violet again. Just as she’d done the first time, she’d cocked everything up.

  Still, realizing he didn’t want to be alone wasn’t the same as wanting to fall in love. He could take another duchess under the exact same circumstances he’d married Jacinda. “It wasn’t terrible, was it?” he asked. “You were happy, I think. I tried to make you happy.” As best as he could. She’d been well cared for, and he’d treated her with respect and affection. He could do the same for another woman, say, Miss Kingman. She’d make a serviceable duchess.

  Serviceable?

  Even he knew that sounded awful. She’d make an excellent duchess.

  What about Violet?

  His traitorous mind couldn’t stop thinking of her, and his equally perfidious body couldn’t stop wanting her. Instead of banishing her to the past, he was as consumed by her as he’d ever been.

  Could they try again?

  Simon’s pleas echoed in Nick’s brain. He was so tormented by his wife’s death. Simon wouldn’t have thought twice if presented with the opportunity for a second chance.

  It was just so damn difficult to have hope when your entire life had been filled with tragedy and misfortune—from the loss of four younger siblings and finally his mother as she’d delivered the last of those children to his father and then his brother and uncle to his wife and child. And yes, he’d lost Violet too, even if it hadn’t been to death. Which meant of all of them, he could try for a second chance with her.

  If he had the courage to risk disaster again.

  He looked at his son’s name and thought of his perfect, tiny face. If he could feel that sense of unconditional love and devotion, it would b
e worth it.

  Nick touched each stone, his fingertips lingering over his son’s name. Then he turned and climbed back on Oberon. The rain fell in earnest as they returned to the stables. By the time Nick entered his chamber, he was already peeling away his sodden clothes.

  “Let me help you, Your Grace,” Rand offered, rushing to assist Nick with his coat.

  “I’ll need a bath,” Nick said.

  “It’s already being drawn and will be ready by the time you’re undressed.” Rand set the coat on the floor as Nick perched on the edge of a chair.

  He extended his leg so that Rand could remove his boots. “Excellent. Then I want you to pack for an extended trip.”

  Rand’s head snapped up, and he paused in tugging at the second boot. “So soon?”

  “I know it’s a surprise. It is to me too.”

  Rand removed Nick’s stockings as Nick shrugged out of his waistcoat. “Where are we going?”

  “To Bath. Please inform Mr. Lovell that I need to meet with him after my bath to make preparations.” Nick’s secretary would likely be just as surprised as Rand.

  “Right away.” Rand looked at him as if he wanted to say something but didn’t.

  “Out with it.” Nick stood to remove the rest of his clothing.

  “I hope you won’t find me impertinent, Your Grace, but you’re changed since you returned from the house party.”

  Nick pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to the valet. “So it would seem.”

  “For the better, if I may broaden my impertinence.”

  “Thank you, Rand.” Nick peeled his breeches down his legs.

  “Everyone says so.”

  “Let’s not take things too far.” Nick smiled at the man, causing Rand’s eyes to widen. Nick finished undressing, then turned to head to his bath.

  He couldn’t help but think of the city where he’d met Violet. And he could hardly wait to get there.