Page 14 of Courting the Duchess (Spy Society #1)

T he ladies’ unabashed laughter reached Sterling nearly across the ballroom. Every fiber of his being was attuned to his wife’s location, her every movement. Though he tried to concentrate on the polite conversation around him, it proved a futile exercise. Ever since he first saw her in that gown, a resplendent golden goddess, he could think of nothing other than bringing Alaina home and tasting every inch of her flesh, finally learning once and for all if her nipples were ripe like raspberries, dusky and sensuous, or the pale, innocent pink of a rosebud. More than once, he’d had to turn his mind to tamer paths in order to avoid embarrassing himself in the middle of a ballroom on his first evening back in Society.

It was nearly impossible for him to focus on anything else, though, because every last one of his senses was finely attuned to Alaina. He knew precisely how far away she stood; he was keenly aware of who watched her, who spoke to her, and who asked her to dance. He far preferred having her on his arm, but he couldn’t very well force her to remain there all evening. Things had been going unexpectedly well and it wouldn’t do to mess it all up with a bit of over-possessive behavior.

So, Sterling had to settle for feigning interest in the conversation he’d been dragged into despite his best evasive efforts. All the while, he kept his ears perked for Alaina’s laughter, his nose searched for her intoxicating floral scent, and his arms itched to hold her once more.

“Your father purchased those mines, did he not?” inquired one of the older lords surrounding him.

“He did,” Sterling replied with a nod. “I believe it was shortly after I was born.” The Cornish mines were a fruitful investment sprouting from a gamble the old duke had made. The land had proven dreadfully difficult to mine and had been producing little to no income. After consulting with a few men who knew the area best, his father had decided to purchase the land for a pittance, hired a new foreman who changed the direction of the tunneling, and it was then that the Morton coffers went from full to obscenely overflowing.

“And how are the workers?” asked a second, deeply nasal voice.

“By all accounts, they are content. I am planning to visit my holdings over the next several months to confirm, but I’ve made sure the wages are fair and I’ve employed physicians in the town who see to their wellbeing and that of their families—”

“No, no,” the man said, waving. “I mean how are they? The men in my operation are showing a maddening proclivity toward entitlement.”

“Entitlement?” Sterling’s eyes whipped up to meet the other man’s eyes for the first time. Lord Peele had always possessed the pointed features of a rodent, but no more so than that evening, in Sterling’s estimation.

“More money,” Peele scoffed. “All they do is haul rocks and chip away at the ground. Can you believe they have the gall to demand more money for it?” He shook his head with incredulous disbelief, as if it was beyond his comprehension that the men wouldn’t do such “simple” work for free. A few other heads nodded in grave agreement.

“I don’t pretend to have ever been a laborer,” Sterling said, slowly and evenly; “but I’ve enough understanding to assert that it is far more than just ‘hauling rocks’ and ‘chipping earth.’” The head shaking stopped immediately. “In fact, these men do some of the most dangerous work in the kingdom, putting their lives at risk to line our pockets. I feel the least we can do is pay them a decent wage to make their risk worth it and, God forbid, provide for their families if the worst happens.”

“We offer them employment.” Peele’s voice dripped with derision. “Do you not feel they are demonstrating ungratefulness by daring to claim their compensation is unfair? We bring industry to their far-flung communities and put a roof over their heads and food on their tables.”

One of the men shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot; another found something fascinating about the chandelier over their heads. Either they agreed with Peele, but wanted to avoid contradicting Sterling, or they were made uncomfortable by the brewing disagreement. Regardless, Sterling believed them cowards.

“They feed and house their families through the sweat on their brow and the blood of their bodies. Sometimes with their lives. We are not doing them a favor by paying them for their lives; we are thanking them for their risk and their sacrifice, and I firmly believe their reward should be proportionate to this. We only live the way we do because other men put their lives in jeopardy.”

A choked cough came from the lord who so clearly now regretted ever bringing up the topic of the mines. Peele, however, doubled down on his opinions.

“Are you saying we should be grateful to those we employ?” he scoffed, holding his hands in a supplicating manner as he glanced around for support. There was none to be found. “We are born to this, Morton. Some men are born to power, others are born to spend their lives dedicated to others, doing their small part to improve the world.” There was a disgusted curl to his lips. “Some men are gods and some men are ants. They should be happy they aren’t crushed beneath our boots—let alone have the temerity to demand we do more for them.”

Sterling’s blood chilled. His heart rate slowed to a dangerous, focused thrum. His eyes narrowed on one of the men who embodied the problem with Sterling’s class. Men like Peele did not use their position for anything other than their own gain and privilege. Part of the reason Sterling had accepted his position in Ramsay’s Spy Society was Sterling’s desire to do more than the typical lord who sat back collecting rents. Managing his estates, his tenants, his employees was all well and good; it was what his father had taught him to do and there was no shame in that. He knew that was fine, especially when he might take his power to the House of Lords and enact real change. But he’d wanted to do more—get his hands dirty. So, when the opportunity presented itself, he took it. As a duke, he planned to do what he could on English soil. As an agent of the Spy Society, his impact might be far greater. He had spent years helping to ferret out foreign intelligence that saved hundreds—if not thousands—of lives. And he fully intended to bring all the lessons and skills he’d learned and the connections he had made home to make England a better place. A man’s observant nature, charm, and talent with disarming words did not simply disappear when he returned to his normal life.

Sterling wasn’t delusional; he knew he couldn’t squash every roach in the peerage, but he could use his intimidating stature and notoriety to put them in their place every once in a while. Thanks to his connections and the information he’d amassed over the years, he knew more ton secrets than every tabloid and London gossipmonger combined.

Sterling met Peele’s grin with a deadly smile of his own. He leaned forward and clapped the other man on the shoulder, allowing his hand to linger.

“I can see what you mean, Peele. I shall take your words into account as I move forward in my ventures.”

“No trouble at all.” Peele’s grin spread to reveal rows of crooked teeth…but it faltered when Sterling leaned in to drop low, dangerous words in his ear.

“I will caution you that a single ant may go unnoticed…anger the colony and you may not live to regret it.” He tightened his grip on Peele’s shoulder. “And I strongly suggest you funnel some of your funds into paying fair wages rather than sending them overseas for illicit goods. There may come a time when the powers that be may decide you have skated by long enough.”

With that, Sterling pressed his glass into the other man’s chest, forcing him to take it lest it shatter on the floor, and turned away to find Alaina.

“Pardon the interruption, but I should very much like to steal away my wife.” Sterling took an inordinate amount of pleasure at the surprise that crossed Alaina’s face at the sound of his voice and…dare he imagine it…the warmth just barely flaring to life in her eyes.

“But of course, Your Grace,” said the tall, curvaceous young woman with whom Alaina had been speaking, and she bobbed a deferential curtsy. “Please excuse me; I see my mother gesturing for my attention.”

“I shall see you at our next meeting, then?” Alaina asked her.

The woman’s sharp blue gaze briefly alighted on Sterling before she nodded. “But of course.”

As soon as they were alone, Sterling gently pulled Alaina’s arm through his. “Walk with me, wife.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he began to guide her around the room’s perimeter.

“Whatever did you say to Lord Peele?” Alaina asked lightly, giving a little wave of her fan to an acquaintance.

“What makes you believe I said anything?”

“For one, you cannot threaten a peer in the ballroom of one of London’s most notoriously nosey upstarts without someone noticing. Secondly, the man cannot take his horrified eyes off of you and he’s whiter than a sheet.”

Sterling wondered how successful Ramsay would be if he employed more Society women. It hadn’t been more than five minutes since he’d left Peele and already Alaina was aware that something had transpired. This woman made him appreciate female strength and intelligence more and more each day.

“The man is a prig.” He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but he did so enjoy the bubble of laughter and sparkle in Alaina’s eyes when she looked up at him.

“In that regard, we are in agreement.” Her smile made his mouth go dry. “But I simply must know what you said to put him in his place.” She leaned in conspiratorially and his pulse quickened when the side of her breast pressed against his arm. “You can tell me—I promise not to repeat it.”

“I am no fool,” he chuckled more nonchalantly than he felt. This comfortability between them was both foreign and delightful, and he wanted to prolong it as long as possible.

Alaina shrugged, not the least bit contrite. “Very well. I will probably tell Lady Sommerfeld and Lady Juliette, but that’s it.”

He cocked a brow and the bashful blush to her cheeks did a funny thing to his insides. He liked this Alaina. He liked this entire evening, as a matter of fact. She was carefree and confident in this setting, seemingly freer now that they’d been removed from the battleground of Morton House. And he loved their banter. It was almost shocking how easily they fell back into the habit of it. It felt like the two of them were against the world rather than being pitted against one another in an unwinnable war straight from a Greek Tragedy.

“Let us say that Peele may be rethinking some of his investments in the near future…and paying those employed in his mines something a bit closer to a reasonable wage.”

She stared up at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion, followed by understanding. Even if she didn’t know the specifics, Sterling knew she recognized he’d called the man out for questionable practices. She was a sharp one, his wife.

“Shall we dance again?” he asked her, thinking only of being able to hold her in his arms once more. He was becoming addicted all over again to her lithe grace.

“We have already shared two dances, Morton.”

“And?”

“There will be comments and titillation if we share another here tonight.”

“I care not one fig what any of these people have to say.” Alaina’s luminous eyes widened at his words, but he could tell she enjoyed his bluntness. “I am enjoying myself tonight. With my wife.”

His eyes were locked onto the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. His pulse quickened like a shot. “As much as I hate to admit it, I am enjoying myself tonight as well.”

“You are allowed to have a nice time with me, Alaina. You are not betraying yourself and everything you felt and experienced in the last decade. Equal space can be held for the past as well as the present and future.” He covered her hand with his and she focused on the gesture.

“I’ve felt several times this night that it was as if the time never passed at all,” she whispered, as if uneasy about admitting such a thing aloud. “It has brought back certain memories.”

“It has, has it not?” Sterling gazed down at her, his lips curled into a smile. What he wouldn’t give to have her alone. He glanced up and took stock of their position in the ballroom, suddenly inspired. “In fact, I have another idea I think you may enjoy.”

Sterling spirited Alaina through a side door and onto a small, unoccupied balcony overlooking the house’s dark back garden. The evening air hung thick with the aroma of pruned shrubbery, earth, and rosebushes.

“What are you doing?” Alaina laughed as he backed her into the vee of the stone balustrade. He’d have preferred some sort of veranda or broader balcony with more space for concealment, but this would have to do.

“Wooing you, of course,” he replied, head inclined to inhale her scent—so much more delicious than anything else he’d experienced in all his travels.

Alaina glanced around and he watched understanding dawn slowly at first, and then all at once.

“You said you would not force me.”

“I am not forcing you, simply fulfilling my role as an interested suitor who has whisked his lady away for a private moment. Just like when we courted.”

Alaina’s small laugh was breathy and unsteady. “You never did that when you courted me.”

“No.” Sterling leaned in until his lips were a breath’s space from her neck, forcing her to feel every one of his words as a hot puff of air on her exposed flesh. “I was too young, too stupid, too determined to do what I thought was right.” Her shuddering breath caused a hot rush of heat to fly straight to his throbbing groin. “But I think we are well past that point. Wouldn’t you agree, Alaina?” What he wouldn’t give to run his tongue along the hammering pulse in her throat. Her low begrudging whimper was enough to fray his resolve dangerously thin. “Have I forced you?” he murmured into the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. Alaina gave a mute, minuscule shake of her head. “All you need to do is say the word and I will stop.” He crowded her more closely to the banister, the toes of his polished hessians sliding beneath the hem of her skirts, and he lifted his head until their mouths were nearly touching. “Do you wish for me to stop…or would you like for me to kiss you? Because I would very, very much like to kiss you right now.”

“I—I don’t know,” Alaina stammered breathlessly.

“Yes or no. It’s quite simple, really.” Sterling couldn’t take his eyes off hers, the dark pools of the sapphire irises, the blown-out pupils giving away her true desires. “Would you like me to leave you alone, or should I kiss you senseless?”

“Senseless?”

“Or at least as near to it as possible. I want to kiss you until your limbs tremble from it—until you ache for my touch as much as I ache for yours.”

Her breath was coming in quick little pants now and she’d curled her fingers into the lapels of his coat. His cock was thick and straining with need at that point, his pulse beating in time to her shaky breaths.

“Mmm?” she hummed nonsensically, her eyes flitting to his mouth.

“Is that what you want, Alaina?” he whispered.

“Yes…” she finally exhaled. The word was still on her lips when he slanted his mouth over hers.

Sterling licked his way into her mouth, savoring her sigh as she allowed him in and met his tongue with equal fervor. They tangled and stroked, tasted and sucked. She surprised him by giving his lower lip a nip and his sanity fled like a stallion slapped on the haunches. An unbidden moan of delight slipped from his throat, and he felt the little minx smile against his lips.

Just for that, he closed the remaining distance between their bodies, cupped the back of her head, and yanked her hips flush with his using the hard band of his other arm around her trim waist. In response, Alaina slung her arms around his neck, simultaneously raising herself and pulling him down to meet her.

“Do you want me to stop?” he teased against her lips.

“No,” she breathed. “No.”

Sterling dragged his lips down her jaw, taking advantage to nibble the underside when her head fell back. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her throat and then licked his way back up to the delicate shell of her ear. He nearly groaned when she shivered as he nipped the lobe and then soothed it with a kiss.

“How about now?” he growled.

She shook her head and found his lips again, devouring him with deep, hungry kisses that set Sterling’s blood on fire as if he’d been nothing but a bundle of dry powder until Alaina had come and dropped the spark. He swore he could feel every vein and artery in his body firing with that volatile heat.

As if with a mind of their own, his hands slid lower to squeeze appreciatively the perfect mounds of her bottom and then fist in the shimmering fabric of her gown. He flexed his hips and rocked the thick, hard ridge of his arousal against her softness. He was rewarded by her pressing back into him. She didn’t retreat—if anything, her body seemed to reach for his and beg for more.

Sliding his knee between hers, Sterling pulled her up and over his leg so she straddled him. He nearly came just from the heat of her sex through the layers of their clothing. Trapping her between his body and the balustrade, she had no choice but to allow him to grip her bottom and drag her across his thigh in long, slow strokes. He slowed the pace of his kisses to match the languid teasing of her cleft. He knew he found the proper pace and pressure when Alaina’s nails dug into his scalp, and she began to gasp and shudder.

“And now?” he asked wickedly.

“Don’t…you…dare…” Alaina whimpered, clutching his head and his shoulders as if he were the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

The pounding of Sterling’s heart was deafening in his own ears as Alaina found the right angle and rode him. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her. He wanted to feel her body wrapped around his, to know how she felt with every drag and pull of their flesh. He had waited his whole life for Alaina, and it was killing not to lift her skirts and take her right then and there, but he knew she deserved better. His wife deserved better. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself and finish instantly if she allowed him to take her fast and hard in a dark corner with others lurking not all that far away.

He’d add that to his mental list of all the ways he wanted Alaina, but it was not for them this time.

“That’s it,” he hissed through gritted teeth, trying with everything inside of him to hold onto the tattered remains of his sanity. “This is only a hint of what I could make you feel, Alaina. I want to explore together. I want to touch you everywhere, to learn your taste, to give you nothing but pleasure.”

She sobbed deep in her chest and Sterling read it as she was nearing her peak. Quickly, he slanted his mouth over hers to muffle her cries, lest they be overheard and someone came outside to investigate. He held her flexing rear in a bruising grip as she worked herself over him. He helped her maintain her pace even when she faltered, her legs trembling too badly to provide the leverage she required. He needed her to find her climax even though he would deny himself that pleasure. This was about Alaina and showing her that she could trust him and that he wanted only to satisfy her, to give her the life she should have had for the last eight years.

Alaina’s breath quickened and caught, but Sterling continued to urge the relentless pace. He nipped and nibbled her mouth, stroked her deeply with his tongue and she met him each time. She was his equal. She burned as hotly as he did, she pulsated with it just as he throbbed with need so painful it was nearly debilitating.

Suddenly, Alaina tensed and shuddered, her nails leaving crescent-shaped bites on the back of his neck as he kissed her deeply and drank her cries of joy. He crushed her to him, molding her soft, full breasts to his chest and running his hands along every one of her tantalizing curves, caressing and tasting her until her tremors stilled and her breathing gradually grew more even. Eventually, Sterling placed another kiss on her parted lips and then pressed his lips to her forehead, simply breathing her in.

Alaina melted in his arms and buried her face in his chest; Sterling closed his eyes and simply allowed himself to be. He reveled in her nearness, cherished the faith she’d placed in him, and struggled to calm his own raging arousal.

Alaina tilted her head back and his breath caught in his throat. His wife was glorious. “That was…”

“Amazing,” he finished for her.

She pulled her lips between her teeth and lowered her gaze. Unable to bear the thought of her being at all ashamed of what they’d just done, Sterling crooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to his.

“Just like kisses, it is your right to demand pleasure from me.” His words were soft, but firm, leaving no room for her to misinterpret him. “And I heartily encourage you to ask for it whenever—and wherever—the fancy strikes. I am far from shy.”

Alaina blushed in the most becoming way before she straightened her spine and disentangled herself from him. While she did her best to shake out her skirts, Sterling tilted his gaze to the dark sky overhead, and, placing his hands on his hips, he inhaled the thick night air deeply and tried to cool his ardor.

“I am hopelessly wrinkled now, thanks to you,” Alaina grumbled, frowning down at the crumpled state of her skirts.

Sterling grinned at her. “A small price to pay.”

“Do try not to sound so pleased with yourself,” she bit out, moving past him to reenter the ballroom.

“How can I not when you can hardly walk a straight line?” Sterling caught up to her and leaned in closer so his breath tickled the nape of her neck. “Imagine what will happen when we finally get our hands on one another in privacy.”

He was rewarded with a stuttering step and a vicious glare from Alaina when he caught her elbow so she didn’t land face-first in the doorway. He couldn’t stop his chuckle when she wrenched her arm away and plowed into the room toward a clutch of women.

She could present all the bluster in the world and Sterling would still know he’d made some headway with his wife. And he couldn’t wait to be alone with her again.

The carriage ride back to Morton House hadn’t come quickly enough for Sterling. It was the wee hours of the morning before they were able to leave the Finchley home and, rather than take the rear-facing seat across from Alaina, he’d dropped down beside her. He felt her stiffen, but she didn’t sidle away. He’d count that as another victory—his second for the night—tallying it up alongside his very pathetic number of wins when it came to Alaina and their relationship.

Overall, the evening had to be considered a success. There were no incidents, raucous arguments, or verbal sparring in public. That had to be progress, didn’t it? And he’d been able to dance with her, hold her close, openly lay claim to her once again, announcing to all the ton that he was back, this was his wife, and he had no designs to go anywhere. After eight long, exhausting, dangerous years, he was finally where he belonged.

And that delicious interlude on the balcony would live on endlessly in his memory.

Sterling leaned back in the plush squab upholstered in rich ruby-red velvet, stretching his tired legs out before him and crossing them at the ankle.

“I commend your choice for a first outing,” he said gently as they rocked into motion. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Alaina was busy twisting her dance card in her lap. His fingers itched to reach out and replace the card with his hand, to feel the way their palms fit together, to tug her closer… Instead, he forced himself to settle for just being this near to her for so many consecutive hours without bloodshed.

As much as it pained him to acknowledge the truth of it, Alaina had been right about the speculation surrounding their marriage. He’d received a few stomach-churning insinuations that his return was solely to get a legitimate heir on Alaina before returning to his absentee ways; more still had inquired if he’d be willing to divulge some of his tantalizing stories. Cold set-downs had awaited those men. Barely banked rage met the one or two men who’d been uncouth enough to comment that Sterling’s return would surely help bring the duchess to heel—that it would do her good to have a man’s hand in her life. It was one thing for him to consider his wife a handful, and another entirely to have relative strangers take the liberty of saying such things.

It sickened him to realize that this was just a taste of all Alaina had endured in his absence. He was beginning to understand how she’d developed such teeth and claws. Necessity was a powerful tool of adaptation.

More than once, he’d had to force his hands to unclench. Laying an earl, knight, or obscenely wealthy businessman out flat in the Finchley ballroom would serve no purpose other than making him feel momentarily better. It would do nothing to erase incorrect assumptions and might add more fuel to the fire. Instead, Sterling had to tell himself that things would change now that he was home. Alaina did not have to face these boors and harpies alone. He’d meant what he’d said when he told her he would not leave her. Together, they would weather this cruel world; neither would be alone again, and he found that intensely comforting.

Not that it had been a chore, but he’d done his best to present that united front he’d expounded to Alaina. He’d gladly do so again and again until the practice became a habit for them both, and he was determined to extinguish the nasty rumors surrounding the Morton Dukedom and relieve Alaina of the burden she’d shouldered alone for so long, if he had to stomp the flames out himself one by one.

“Thank you,” Alaina replied lightly, offering him only the shell of her dainty ear as she turned her attention to the passing scenery.

“Am I mistaken or is Miss Finchley one of the ladies from your reading society?” he asked about the dark-eyed, curvaceous daughter of their hosts with whom he’d done his polite duty and shared a dance. She’d been quiet and shy, providing only one-word answers to his inquiries, but she’d moved with all the grace and elegance of a woman who had spent years with a dancing master.

One corner of Alaina’s mouth tilted in a bemused smile when she finally met his gaze. “She is.”

“How appropriate.”

She chuckled lightly, the throaty sound sending a shockwave straight to his groin. “You should count yourself fortunate that the company I keep is more understanding than most; they are not the usual Society lot.”

“I do count myself lucky in many ways, Alaina.”

When his knee knocked into hers as they took a turn…she didn’t pull away.

*

Sterling escorted Alaina up the sweeping staircase to the floor where their bedchambers were situated. Side-by-side. Tantalizingly close.

And, when he stopped in front of her door, when she looked up at him with her wide, luminous blue eyes with her arm still wrapped through his, when just the edge of her lower lip was caught between her straight white teeth, he could almost fool himself into believing that they were a normal man and wife.

That life hadn’t gotten in the way.

That she’d allow him to guide her a few steps further to his own door.

Or, better yet, that she would tug him into her room and shut out the rest of the world.

“Thank you,” Alaina breathed.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “For?”

“For a lovely evening. It was surprisingly enjoyable.”

“Surprisingly?” he scoffed lightheartedly. “I can see I have quite a bit of work to do if I am to elevate your expectations of me.”

He knew she saw his eyes flit to her smiling mouth; he felt it in the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly on his bicep.

Just one taste.

He wouldn’t go back on his word—he wouldn’t press her for more, no matter how badly his body ached for it—but he could no more stop himself from leaning down and pressing a gentle, achingly slow kiss to her lips than he could his lungs from breathing.

He needed this.

He needed her .

Sterling forced himself to pull back just when he felt her leaning into him. It nearly killed him, but he knew it was necessary for his sanity.

Her gilded lashes fluttered open when he stepped back.

“Pleasant dreams, Alaina,” he murmured as he retreated to his own door. He knew without looking back that she was as confused and frustrated as he, but he was honor-bound to hold true to his promise to her. He reminded himself to maintain his hope that she would come to him in her own time.

He just had to be patient…even if it killed him.