An Undesirable Duke Read online

  He did remember. He still longed to feel Lord Luther’s bones snapping in his hands. “As well she should be, but that is no reason to…” Abruptly he understood. “She’s punishing you for what her father did?”

  Violet nodded, hugging herself. He itched to wrap his arms around her. She looked shaken and hurt, and she deserved none of it. His arms were so much bigger and stronger; he could protect her from all the pain in the world. He took a breath, his own core shaken by his level of anger. “I will see them removed from the castle at once.”

  Her eyes snapped back to his. “You cannot do that.”

  “Why not? I’m the duke, I can do whatever I wish.”

  “Not after your demonstration last night. Others will think…” She shook her head, releasing a shaky breath. He could feel her fragility like a cold wind and it chilled him. It was as though her emotions were his, only he couldn’t give her his strength, he couldn’t transfuse his iron hide into her.

  “Tell me what you wish me to do.” If he couldn’t resort to violence or arrogant high handedness, he was at a loss for resources.

  She laughed. “There is nothing to be done. I will act as though nothing happened, and so will they, at least I hope. If you involve yourself more there will be talk.”

  “He accosted you, and now his daughter has done the same.”

  “Drawing further attention won’t help.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I hate them, truly. They are an utter bane. If I’m not being stared at by men, I’m being judged by women. I didn’t choose them, they just…grew.”

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head in confusion.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes, it is a shame something so lovely as your bosom should cause you such difficulty.”

  She glared at him. “Compliments are the last thing I want. They are an atrocity.”

  “Don’t,” he scolded.

  “It is my body. I will say what I want about it.”

  “Your body deserves worship, not blasphemy.”

  “You’ll never understand.” She stood and marched away from him, pacing before the small fire in the hearth.

  “And I’m afraid you won’t either.” He stood and came around the desk, but no closer than the chair she had vacated.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I understand well how terrible the treatment of your sex is regarding your appearance, but before you mutilate your god-given blessings, have you considered their good uses?”

  “Uses? As in children?”

  “As in pleasure.” He took a cautious step toward her.

  “It is obvious men find pleasure in them, but I don’t see how that benefits me.”

  “Have you touched them?”

  Her cheeks flagged with color again. “What sort of question is that? They are on my body and mostly unavoidable.”

  “If you haven’t touched them, then you have no idea how lovely they truly are.”

  “What is your point, Weirick, is all this a ruse to allow you to touch my breasts?” She folded her arms in agitation, presenting said breasts a shelf to display themselves. He ignored them and studiously kept his gaze on her eyes.

  “It pains me to think you don’t know how pleasurable it would be for you.”

  “They’ve been groped more times than I care to count, and it’s never been pleasurable for me. It hurts.”

  “That is because it wasn’t done for you. Men took their pleasure out upon you like the baseless pigs they are. But you have not let a man touch them for the sole purpose of giving you pleasure, and that is a shame.”

  “I…I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m leaving.” She turned away, reaching for the door handle.

  “I’d be happy to show you.” He let out a silent prayer. It was a sin against nature that she not know how truly divine and perfect her breasts were, or how they were a gift in the pursuit of pleasure for herself and a deserving partner. Weirick wasn’t sure he was deserving, but she was. She deserved to be worshiped, and he just so happened to have the necessary skills.

  Her hand froze, extended toward the door. “Show me what?”

  “Exactly what I told you.”

  She turned, just enough to look at him sideways. “You want to touch me?”

  More than I would ever admit. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life loathing yourself, and allowing others to make you feel shameful? Or I can prove to you that your body is a miracle in every way.”

  She faced him fully. “I’d be an utter idiot to let you con me into allowing liberties. You don’t like me, you think I’m a shallow, title hungry wanton, who is undeserving of your family.”

  “I think that about almost every woman, don’t take it to heart.”

  She looked like she wanted to snarl at him. She spun away, but now Weirick couldn’t let her leave. He’d made things worse, as he tended to always do.

  “Stop, Violet.” His hand fell on the door just as she pulled it open. She tugged, but it didn’t move again.

  “Let me out.”

  “I’m sorry. I assure you I am every terrible thing you’ve thought about me, and that is the beauty of our relationship. We have been honest with each other. You’re infatuated with me, and I respect you enough to tell you my exact thoughts regarding you, including that your body is singularly the most beautiful I have seen, and that’s from only guessing what is under your clothing.”

  She folded her arms mutinously, glaring at the door.

  His lips twitched with a smile as he admired her angry profile. He breathed against her ear. “Let me touch you.” He could feel a shiver course through her body.

  She was silent for a moment and then she unfolded her arms. “Fine.”

  “Fine?” His heart kicked into a vicious gallop, his blood hotter than lava, but her terse agreement wasn’t exactly encouraging.

  “At least you bothered to ask. No other man has ever done that.”

  In his mind, he cursed every other man in existence. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Complete carte blanche?”

  “Within reason.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  He grinned. This might be the very best day of his life. That wasn’t a difficult feat, but triumph rang through his limbs anyway. If only she looked half as excited as he was. “Close your eyes, Violet.”

  “Are we going to do this right here?”

  Some of her rigidness faded, but she looked more resigned than anything. He would have to change that immediately. He wanted her panting with pleasure, begging him for more. He could move them to his room, where they were assured privacy, but that was dangerous. Any soft place he could lay her down was dangerous, including the rug beneath them, but he would never take her to the floor like that. She deserved so much more.

  “Yes, here will do just as well as any other place. Come and sit on my lap. We’ll be more comfortable that way.” He took her hand and led them to a chair, sitting first and pulling her down. He could tell she was nervous by her rapid breathing. He nestled her back against his arm and shoulder, brushing a fallen curl from her cheek. “Now close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “I want you to pay attention to only the way it feels when I touch you.”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Weirick looked down at his prize and his mouth watered. He was going to feast on her, show her the beauty that was her body. She’d never again loathe herself, not when she knew the kind of delights that could be given.

  He lightly danced his fingers over her collarbone, down to the upper curve of her breast. Her breath shimmered out of her, telling him she was nervous but also excited. It humbled him. Until now, she’d only been molested by uncouth gentlemen. He was the first to show her the truth, the joy that existed in her skin with the right touch, the right person. It was a heavy burden to carry, but Weirick exalted in the challenge. He’d always found giving pleasure to be more satisfying than taking it. As a man, his needs were simple, achievable withi
n minutes, but a women’s pleasure was complex, her body an instrument capable of beautiful music when expertly played.

  Weirick teased the skin at the edge of her bodice, untying the ribbon at the back of her neck to loosen the gathered neckline. He slipped it down, revealing her shift. He loosened that too, and pushed it down, baring her perfect breasts, large and round. Her rosy nipples puckered in the cool air. Violet’s breathing grew shallow, and he could feel her tensing. He cupped one breast and bent his head to kiss the arch of her neck. She tipped her head back, giving him more room. Brave Violet. She was so vulnerable to him now, so trusting. He should feel guilty, but he didn’t because as much as he would enjoy this moment, it was all for her.

  He teased the sensitive skin of her neck with his tongue and lips, alternating between hot licks of his tongue and blowing cool air over her wet skin. She shivered in his arms and moved her hips.

  Yes, he wanted to groan the word against her skin, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He was already hard as a rock, burrowing in the welcoming cushion of her derriere over his lap.

  Sweeping lower, he kissed his way down the valley of her breasts until he reached one soft plump peak. He brushed his tongue over her nipple, and she gasped, one hand clutching his lapel. He smiled against her skin and resumed his task. He gently suckled her, loving on her tender skin until it was red and soft. He moved to the next breast and repeated the torture. Violet was cupping the back of his head now, sighing his name, squirming in his lap.

  He would normally dissuade women from touching the back of his head where his scars lay. They were sensitive and tickled uncomfortably when touched, or burned angrily should a woman use her nails when expressing her appreciation, but Violet’s touch did none of that. She held him tenderly, her hand soft and warm, soothing his tautly stretched skin.

  He pressed his face to her chest, feeling the reverberation of her heart against his cheek, and for a moment, a miniscule fraction of time, he let himself feel. The cage around his heart expanded and warmth flooded him. Light and joy and peace, it filled him with frightening speed. For a scant second, he didn’t fight any of it, and then he retreated, locking doors, chaining cages, and burying those echoes of bright emotions away. They were intoxicating, the keyword being toxic. It was those kinds of emotions that made one make stupid mistakes like falling in love, or believing one’s father cared for you, or challenging a girl to a duel because you desperately needed to know her name.

  Stupid nonsense like that.

  She was stroking his head now, her breath a husky murmur against his ear. He reached for her skirts and slipped his hand underneath. She was already riding the edge of heaven; he may as well push her over. Who was he to leave a woman unsatisfied? His cock was throbbing, begging for salvation. He would not find that here, but he would find a perverse enjoyment in watching Violet for the rest of the party with the secret knowledge of watching her come apart in his arms.

  It was the little things that made life worth living.

  His hand slipped between her legs, wasting no time before teasing them apart and finding her warm hidden core. Her legs clamped around his hand and her eyes opened.

  “This isn’t what we discussed.”

  “No, but you need it.”

  “No I—”

  He wiggled his thumb over the hood of her sex. Her thighs tightened and her eyes widened.

  He dipped a finger in her core, teasing the slick folds.

  “What…” she swallowed.

  “If you enjoyed what I did to your bosom, I’d be happy to show you the delights that can be found elsewhere on your body.” He waited for her to respond, sweetening the bargain with another swivel of his thumb.

  “Weirick…”

  “Yes, Violet?” He bent his head and nuzzled her breast, taking the soft peak into his mouth.

  “Oh…” She leaned back again, her thighs drifting apart.

  He slowly thrust a finger inside, teasing her hood with his thumb. Her hips began to move again, and he knew she was lost in the fire now. He gave himself over to it as well, letting go, grinding his shaft against her bottom while he steadily drove her to a wild climax with his hand and his mouth on her breast. She cried out, a broken moan escaping her, and then her body went limp. He watched her face as utter bliss overcame her. It was as close to heaven as he could be.

  He settled her skirts back over her legs but didn’t bother to cover her breasts just yet. He wanted to memorize as much of her as he could before she came to her senses. Her body was boneless against him, her breathing slow and deep.

  He smiled, the stupid urge to crow with pride fighting to get out of him. He swallowed it down and sobered. “Don’t fall asleep, Violet.”

  Her head lolled to the side and her eyes fluttered open. “What?”

  “Our time is up. We have to get you back to your room without being seen.”

  She stretched, arching her back and yawning. She looked down at her exposed breasts and yelped, covering them with her hands.

  “It’s too late. I’ve committed the sight to memory.”

  Her skin flushed under her hands. “I don’t think being bare to another’s gaze is something I’ll ever get used to.”

  Some drivel about being bare for her husband was on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself from saying the words. Another man would see her, another man would have the freedom to lay her down, wherever he so chose, and make love to her, make her scream in pleasure.

  Black thunderclouds rolled over his pleasant mood. He shifted under her, his erection still present.

  “We must go. Cover yourself.” He lifted her and stood, dumping her back in the chair. Weirick poured himself a drink and stared out the window. Every sound she made taunted him, the soft hush of her breathing, the whisper of her clothing against her skin. None of it belonged to him, and it was killing him. He checked the hall and it was mercifully empty. The guests must be breaking their fast in the dining room by now.

  He led Violet into the hall. “They must be having breakfast by now if they have returned from the beach.”

  “I don’t want to see them.”

  “Then do whatever you wish, but I need to leave.” He turned away, his heart pounding, his strides eating the distance between him and the salvation of the outdoors. He fought the urge to look back as he reached the back stairs. He hesitated on the first step, the waiting unbearable, so he glanced back just before losing sight of her, but she was already gone.

  Violet isn’t the type of woman to wait around. He sneered in the dark of the back stairs. Except she waited five years for you, his conscience whispered back.

  Chapter 16

  Violet went to her room, and she was surprised to find her mother there with the Duchess of Selbourne. Janice was there as well, putting away freshly laundered clothing and shooting Violet anxious glances.

  “Well, this is a delightful surprise.” Violet swallowed down the sobs that had queued in her throat, eager to let themselves out once she reached her room. That wouldn’t be happening now. She pasted on a bright smile. “Did you enjoy the remainder of the beach excursion?”

  Her mother planted her hands on her hips. “While I admire this show of cheerfulness, you needn’t bother. Where were you?”

  “Having breakfast,” Violet lied through her smile.

  “We were down there. I didn’t see you,” her mother said.

  “I ate before anyone returned, and then I went to find a book to read, but there were none that interested me, so then I sat and enjoyed…” They clearly didn’t believe her. She was wasting her breath. Did they know? How could they? Her skin prickled as a guilty blush spread over her skin.

  “Don’t make more of this than it is,” Violet began. “But I was speaking with the duke regarding Lord Luther’s behavior last evening. His Grace had intervened, as I’m sure you noticed, and that is what led to Miss Porter’s childish behavior this morning.”

  Both women blinked at her with blank expression
s. “What in god’s name are you talking about?” her mother asked.

  Violet frowned. “Last night…my dance with Lord Luther…he…pinched me.” She waved her hand around her right breast.

  Her mother’s skin paled, and then mottled red patches stood out like battle flags on her cheeks.

  “He did what?”

  Violet had never heard her mother speak in such a quiet, lethal tone. “It was just a little pinch. It happens all the time.”

  “It—it happens all the time!” her mother cried. “Why wouldn’t you tell me these things?”

  The duchess set her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Miss Everly, I will not stand for it. Guests in my home are afforded every comfort and that includes respect for one’s person.”

  Violet’s mother nodded. “You should have told me at once, I can’t protect you if you keep things from me.”

  Violet shrugged weakly, now guilt mixed with the menagerie of emotions inside her. “It’s not important.”

  “Someone accosted you and you don’t think it important?” her mother badgered.

  “It only brings more attention to the situation, which somehow makes me look worse. There is nothing to be done. Weir—His Grace—handled the matter last night in whatever fashion he chose and—just as I predicted, the result was more shame heaped upon me.”

  Her mother charged forward, and Violet found herself wrapped in her mother’s lilac scented arms. Violet took a steadying breath, tears pricking her eyes. She felt twelve years old again.

  “Mother, please.”

  Her mother pulled back and gripped Violet’s shoulders. “You must never stay silent in the face of such behavior. It’s true, it can feel worse when a light is shone on it, because that light is blinding and harsh, but you need not face it alone. We are stronger together, and we women know just how to deal with lechers like Lord Luther.

  “But Miss Porter…”

  The duchess stepped forward and placed her hand on Violet’s shoulder. “Miss Porter is looking for someone to blame for her own shame. She shouldn’t have lashed out at you, dear. You are not to blame for her father’s disgusting behavior. I will speak to them at once, and likely they will wish to leave the party.”