The Heart of a Duke(105)

He inched her gown above her knee, caressing the long length of leg, the smooth skin. An avid rider, Julia’s legs were slim and muscular. He wanted to savor and love every inch of her, but she did have a point about being outside.

Slow was better, but fast had its merits. When she arched against him, he slid his hand between them and fumbled with the placket of his trousers. Freeing himself, he settled his hips against hers. He moved his hand between them, and gently pleasured her until he had elicited her responding whimpers. He continued with a few deft strokes until he could bear it no more, and he slid inside her with a groan.

When he started to thrust, hard and deep, her nails dug into his back. Forget songbirds, the sounds she made were a serenade to his heart. His arousal grew as he increased his pace, his breath ragged against her temple.

Her body arched as she began her climb toward climax. He tried to slow himself down, but she molded her hips to his and arched against him, matching her movements to his rhythm. Her eager response heightened his arousal, and he deepened his thrust, holding her close. He felt her heart pound against his. Eventually, she cried out, clutching him tighter, her damp cheek buried in his chest.

He groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust a few more times, feeling something wild and primitive building within him. Slow was better, but good lord, fast and hard was a close second. He poured himself into her, breathing in deep pants as his passion climbed. He was surprised to hear his own cry of release ripped from him as his body arched and jerked. With a final grunt, he collapsed on top of her. He lay there, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal and his passion-dazed senses to settle.

After a few minutes, she tapped his back. “Please, move. You are quite heavy, and the ground is hard.”

“Well, then it is a good thing I am no longer,” he smiled, having no complaints about falling in love with a forthright woman. He summoned the energy to roll to her side. He slid a hand beneath her shoulders and tenderly drew her close, cradling her against him. “Will you look at that? It was not a gray-winged wagtail wormer, after all.”

“Oh, what was it?” She rolled her eyes as she drew her gown down, and settled herself more comfortably against his chest.

“It was a Peeping Tom.” His eyes laughed into hers. “Ogling my Lady Godiva.”

She punched him playfully on the arm, her laughter joining his.

A much better memory than tears. He would carry it with him tomorrow when he left. Hold it in his heart forever, which he hoped would be a long, long time.





Chapter Twenty-eight





DANIEL had been gone for over a week, and Julia regretted her decision not to join him. She had never been a woman to sit home. That is the wife Edmund would have preferred. Once again, she shuddered at the thought of the disastrous marriage she had narrowly escaped. She would have failed Edmund miserably, but her failure would have been well met by his being a duplicitous, murderous bastard. Their marriage would have been like trying to keep a rock afloat. It was best it sank before ever being launched.

She shook her head free of Edmund. For the hundredth time, she wished for Daniel’s safe return. To distract her. To love her as he had promised. She smiled wistfully, her body warming at the memory of his declaration and the look in his eyes when he had spoken.

She needed to get her mind off of her aching need for Daniel or she would go mad, but that was like trying to forget a missing limb. In a doubtless futile attempt to do so, she had planned an excursion into town.

She took the coach, as it was another dreary fall day, gray and spitting rain. Huffing out a breath, she drew the lap blanket over her legs and settled deeper into the velvet cushions, wishing Emily had accompanied her. Then again, these days Emily was in a rather foul mood herself. A separation would be good for them both.

When the coach rolled to a stop, she frowned, for the ride had been far too short to reach the village proper.

Curious, she drew aside the curtain and peered outside. Through the foggy mist, she noticed that they were at the crossroads to Adgate Road, which would take them onto High Street. She saw no reason for the stop and worried something was wrong with either the horses or the carriage.

The door opened and she glanced over, expecting a footman with an explanation. Her eyes widened and she straightened in her seat, her hand going protectively to the collar of her woolen cloak.

“Hello, Julia.”

Edmund.

Her damn discarded duke. The two-faced Janus. Her pulse raced, and she struggled to calm racing nerves. She refused to cower. “I have nothing to say to you. Please tell my driver that I would like to be on my way.”

He simply laughed, and she could only watch astounded as he bounded into the carriage and brazenly settled himself into the seat across from her. “We will be on our way shortly, but there is a change of destination.”