Page 37 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)

The night air was balmy, a rare event for England. Serena strolled next to Hoxton while her heart broke for the baby hawk. “I pray the little bird survives.”

“Only time will tell, but please don’t get your hopes up.

It’s been my experience that birds born with defects do not always survive.

” Grimness tightened his mouth at the pronouncement.

His affection for the birds still continued to impress her.

He was a very caring and giving man, despite his serious countenance.

She halted where the pathway forked between the house and the folly, where she and Imogene often met to read.

In many ways, Serena related to the birds herself, often overlooked and dismissed by others because they were flawed.

Bitterness crept into her thoughts, and she tried to temper it.

“I understand that the weak chicks are either pushed out of the nest or treated as less than equal because of a defect.”

He walked closer to the folly, taking them deeper into the garden. “I assume you’re speaking about yourself,” he said. While his tone was gentle, she could hear an underlying anger in his words, which she assumed was directed at those who treated her poorly.

“Yes, I am.” Serena was pleased that her voice was steady, because she was furious as well as sad for others like her.

To know that he wasn’t offended by her scar only cemented her growing affection for him.

Fate in the form of Blackstone might have thrown them together, but they were well-suited in most ways.

She couldn’t ask for a more ideal husband than Hoxton.

“People like my aunt, and sad to say, the doctor who attended my mother during my birth, thought she should have simply let me die because my lip was split. My palate isn’t damaged like that of other children born with the same defect.

Although I was too young to remember, my aunt never let me forget I was flawed. ”

“People can be unduly cruel.” He patted her hand and led her to the folly.

The stone structure glowed in the moonlight, and he drew her with him up the steps.

The rounded interior was open to the garden on all sides, and an Egyptian-themed bench was surrounded by chairs covered in striped cushions. “I am sorry you went through that.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t need your pity.” She tried to keep the sharpness out of her tone, but it seeped through. To be pitied by strangers was one thing. To have the man she loved feeling sorry for her rankled.

Hoxton held her arm while she sat. Head angled, he studied her for a long moment before taking the seat beside her. Indecision flitted across his brow. His shadowed jaw was tense as if weighing his words. “I could say the same of you.”

The breeze touched her chest with its soft caress, the smell of flowers drifting in the air. Serena adjusted her skirts over her knees, frowning. “I don’t follow,” she said.

“On several occasions, you’ve seen me not at my best.” Hoxton rested his forearms on his knees, his profile to her.

A muscle in his cheek flexed, the silence stretching between them.

He opened his mouth, shut it an instant later, before finally speaking, “I try my best to hide that part of myself to avoid pitying looks. It is very humbling to know that I might be judged because of my past.”

She laid her hand on his shoulder and looped her arm through his, resting her head on his upper arm.

His confession touched her in a way she never anticipated.

He projected strength, yet beneath the surface, still waters ran deep.

Unlike her, his scars were internal, but if anyone knew about his melancholy, they would call him a coward.

Society was cruel, and while Serena was part of the aristocracy now, she would rather stay at Hoxton House with him than ever attend another party.

“I don’t pity you. I don’t understand what you’re experiencing, but I promise I will try to understand if you want to explain it to me.

If you don’t, then that’s all right as well. ”

“Maybe one day.” He remained quiet for a long moment, the wind ruffling his hair. “I think we’ve established that neither one of us pities the other.”

“We are in agreement.” Serena bent closer to his cheek.

She was still wearing her evening gown, and his warmth was welcome as she hadn’t brought a shawl.

Because of Roxanne’s past generosity, Serena had an extensive wardrobe that suited her new title and gave her added confidence.

“On the night I was born, my mother was told by the doctor that I should be institutionalized, even though I showed no mental incapacity. The fact that I wasn’t born perfect was appalling in his eyes. ”

“That is unduly harsh.” Sympathetic eyes continued to hold her gaze. He lifted her chin with his knuckle and placed a soft kiss on her mouth.

She accepted his kiss with eagerness. His quiet support meant the world to her.

He meant the world to her. “Mother was furious, and as soon as she was able, she found a doctor who could perform the surgery on my lip. The results were better than others I have seen, and I am glad for the doctor’s precision, although it is still unsightly. ”

“It is not unsightly. It is simply a scar. We all have them.” Placing one last lingering kiss on her lips, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the heat of his sturdy frame a pull unto itself. “Your mother should be commended for her dedication to you.”

She snuggled deeper into his embrace, pleased by his display of affection.

While he might not love her, he liked her, by his own admission.

In time, she prayed it would turn into something deeper.

For now, she would take what he was willing to offer.

“I am very fortunate to have been born into a family that loved me.”

“Family is very important, and one day I hope we have a family of our own.” Hoxton slid his hand down her back and twisted his torso, taking their embrace from affectionate to intimate. The rise of his chest increased, and her own breath picked up, her mouth parting in anticipation.

Their eyes locked, his burning bright with need that matched her own growing desire.

“I agree.” She pressed herself tighter to his hard frame. He lowered his head as she lifted hers, anticipation stealing her breath. He danced his lips across hers, passion raw and hungry passing between them.

“I don’t care what others think of you,” he said between sultry kisses. “You are beautiful to me.”

“You have to say that.” The contentment inside her chest continued to spread at his compliments, her arms encircling his neck.

Every kiss, every touch strengthened her bond with him.

She’d never thought to find a man willing to marry her, nor had she truly wished to wed until meeting him. “You are my husband.”

“I am, but I am not obligated to compliment you.” Hoxton’s mouth settled over hers, each tender press of his lips drawing her deeper under his spell.

Unlike most people of her acquaintance, he treated her like she truly mattered.

Tears pressed against the back of her eyes at his gentleness, and she willed herself not to think about anything but his kiss.

She clung to his lapels as his tongue dipped into her willing mouth.

Feeling the heat and strength of him, she curled into his embrace.

With a low moan, he dragged his mouth from hers and trailed sensuously slow kisses along the bend of her neck to the top of her breasts.

“Do you think this is wise? Anyone could come upon us.” She threaded her fingers into his hair, her actions contradicting her words. His impromptu seduction made her wish to lose herself in his touch, no matter how public the location.

“They could.” Nimble fingers tugged at the fabric until her nipple popped free of the confines of her stays. With a suggestive grin, he said, “Do you wish me to stop?”

“No.” Heat flushed her cheeks and other parts of her body.

“Then you have your answer.” Chuckling, he dipped his head and explored her nipple with his tongue. The night sky showed dark and silky past her line of vision, the stars pinpoints of light. Romance hung in the air, and she ached to be one with him once more.

“Indeed.” Serena offered no protest when he pulled her leg closer to him, and the fabric of her gown rode up over her calves.

Since meeting him, she had shed her inhibitions, and she liked herself for it.

Gone were the days of her aunt piling self-doubt on Serena’s shoulders.

To be treated with respect and dignity felt good, and she never wanted to go back.

“This bench isn’t very obliging.” Hoxton glided his broad palm under the silk dress and inched his way across her stocking-clad legs until he reached her bare skin.

“We can go inside.” The cut of the skirt hampered him from reaching where she desperately wished for him to land.

“No, I would rather not.” Standing, Hoxton grabbed one of the pillows from the bench. He met her inquisitive smile before he placed it on the ground, his eyes a heated deep green.

“What are you doing?” Serena licked her lips, her heart racing with the desire for him to bed her. She’d had a taste of passion, and she wanted more. Much more.

“You shall see. Do you trust me?” Kneeling before her, he pushed her legs apart with his torso, his palms edging her dress up her legs.

Without hesitation, she nodded. She was new to bed sport and trusted that he would show her things she’d never thought possible.

Shivers of anticipation followed his every move, and she sucked in a sharp breath when his fingertip breached the folds of her pussy.

His lips caught hers, and desire continued to grow.

Hoxton traced her throbbing cunny with lazy swirls, and the need inside her grew more intense. He tongued her nipple before sucking the constricted bud. She fisted the silky strands of his hair, her hips arching into his caress. The low croaking of frogs intermingled with her cries of need.

Having pushed her gown up to gather at her waist, he pulled her bottom forward.

She didn’t have the strength or the willpower to stop his seduction, no matter how shocking.

She was bared most intimately to his heated regard.

Warm lips moved up her inner thigh, his gaze meeting hers before he slid his tongue over her swollen nub.

She grabbed onto the back of the bench, her chest thrust out, mouth parted as a moan of pure pleasure broke from her lips.

The sensations building inside her flamed to a fever pitch with every sweep of his tongue on her flesh. She soon lost all semblance of control when he sucked on the nub. She rocked into his caress as sensations mounted on top of each other.

Hoxton’s pupils were a liquid black as he watched, never letting up on his seduction.

Her love for him swelled, along with her need to reach the ultimate pleasure. The dam on her control broke, and sensation —light and fluid—traveled in waves over her. Helpless to do anything but yield to her own desires, she succumbed to the physical release.

Hoxton rose, and she slumped into his side as he sat next to her.

She tilted her jaw and nuzzled the strong column of his neck as she trailed a fingertip along the placket of his breeches, tented with his need.

He’d given her unbelievable pleasure, and she wanted to reciprocate.

The telling bulge of his arousal met her questing hand.

If nothing else, he desired her. While she wanted more, he wasn’t ready by his own admission.

For now, she’d take whatever he offered.