Page 19 of Desires of a Duke Collection

“I need you today.”

His wife rolled over on top of him, her naked flesh pushing aside the sheet his legs had been tangled in.

Every day for the last six weeks, Fletch had been woken up in this exact manner. The huskiness of Talia’s just-risen voice pulling him with gentle demand into the daylight.

If heaven on earth existed, this was it. Heaven waking him, day after day.

She spoke those words to him every morning. And every day she meant them. Every day she had a purpose for him. Take her riding out to the countryside. Accompany her and her sister to Bond Street. Hold her steady in front of the visitors her mother continued to entertain. Help her to untangle threads for her needlepoint—a stretch of the word “need,” though she insisted her healing wrist demanded his assistance.

She had a million tasks for him, and every day, she made it quite clear she needed him.

Every day, Fletch didn’t mind in the slightest.

He had even begun to look forward to what she would concoct overnight to surprise him with in the morning.

She had been true to her word—never asked him for more than the moment, never talked of the future past the day ahead. He had continued to refuse to let his seed touch her body, yet she never mentioned or even hinted at her displeasure on it. Of course, he made sure her body was shattering, ecstasy throbbing through her veins when he withdrew. He imagined that helped.

Her cold nose nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

“What do you have planned for me?” Smile on his face, Fletch stared at the grey silk of the canopy above as he grabbed her waist and shifted his hips under her, enticing. Not that there was any way she could have missed his rock hard shaft, ready and waiting for her.

She giggled into his neck, her breath warm on his skin. “That first, of course. I always need you for that. But after that I must monopolize you for the entire day. You cannot even imagine the many ways in which I will need you today.”

“Preparations for the dinner this eve?”

“Yes.”

“What is the final count?”

“Thirty-six. But I believe it will expand to more than fifty by this eve, if mother has her way. I still cannot believe I let her convince us to host this dinner.”

Fletch’s hands slipped down her tailbone, rounding along her backside. “Well, your sister’s sudden engagement to Mr. Flemstone did put a damper on your mother’s plans for the upcoming season. She had grand designs for parading Louise about. You saw her face when she found out about the engagement.”

Talia gave a grunt into his neck. “One would have thought we just stole the crown jewels away from her.” She scooted down slightly on him to set her chin on his chest. “I am just so happy Louise and Mr. Flemstone have made a match of it.”

Her wiggling sent his cock straining even harder for her, and Fletch attempted to clamp down on the need, moving to lift her left arm up to distract himself. His thumb ran down the line of bone along her forearm to her wrist, noting the straightness. Aside from lingering tenderness, Talia had healed quickly and the tight bandages had been removed a few days prior. “So you approve of the physician?”

“Yes, I do. Mr. Flemstone has been immensely helpful in so many ways. Indispensable, truly.” She nodded, her chin rubbing on his chest. “Especially because he is privy to all of what happened to Louise, and he adores her aside from it all. She will never have to hide her past from him.”

“Indeed. And I think the dinner to celebrate the engagement is a perfectly acceptable appeasement to your mother in this situation—can you imagine how many soirees you would have had to attend if your sister had been plopped into the marriage mart next season?”

Talia shuddered. “Do not even say such things. I don’t even want to imagine.”

Fletch grabbed her hips, shifting his wife to the exact spot he wanted her on top of him, his cock slipping up between her legs. His lips went to her shoulder, his tongue slipping out to taste the sweetness of her skin. “Then let me take your imagination elsewhere, my wife.”

An exhausting sixteen hours later, the last of the guests were lingering in Fletch’s upper drawing room. Ignoring the conversation with the two men in front of him, Fletch looked across the room at his wife escorting Lord and Lady Fantling out the door, and he could not help but beam.

She had managed to make it through the evening with no true panic—she had had to reach him only twice, placing herself under his arm with her heart beating so hard he could feel the pulsating along her neck. But then it had only taken a few minutes of the security of his body before her heartbeat would slow, her gasping breaths recovering, and then she would leave his side to mingle with the guests again.

Every inch his beautiful, charming marchioness.

Fifteen minutes passed before he accompanied the last guests to the front entrance. The door closing against the cold air, he spun in the foyer, realizing he hadn’t seen Talia since she had left the upper drawing room with the Fantlings.

After a quick glance in the lower drawing room, he looked to Horace. “Did Lady Lockston retire?”

“No, my lord. She is speaking with one of your guests in the study.”

Fletch ran through the list of people attending the party. He had believed all of the guests had departed. He moved down the hall to the study, only to find the door closed.

“You know what I can do.” A man’s voice, his volume uncurbed, came through the door.

“And you know what you will gain.” Talia’s words came softer, desperate, muffled through the heavy oak door.

Fletch shoved the door open, swinging it hard.

Talia and the one man stood in the middle of the study. Fletch assessed the man in a quick glance. A stranger. Portly—slovenly, even. At least twenty years his senior. His eyes landed on his wife. “Talia?”

She had jumped, spinning around at his intrusion, and now her face went white. “Fletch…this…” Her eyes darted over her shoulder to the older man before she looked back to him. “This is Cousin Arnold—the current Earl of Roserton.”

“So you are the one that is not dead yet.” The earl stepped around Talia, looking Fletch up and down before Fletch could say a word. “It would be unfortunate if your death was hurried along, as I understand your wife is quite attached to you. As it is, it should only be a few weeks now.”

Fletch stilled, instantly on guard.

He looked the man up and down again, reassessing the threat. And he knew without a doubt the man was a threat. Not only because he had once tossed Talia and her family into poverty—but because Talia did not blanch white at minor irritations. “Talia, leave the room.”

“Fletch—”

“Leave, Talia. I will have your obedience on this matter.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and Fletch skewered her with a look. Her jaw closed and she silently slipped out past him, closing the door behind her.

Fletch squared his look on Talia’s bastard cousin, but held his feet in place. No need to pummel the man straight away. He wanted information first. “Lord Roserton, I shudder to think on the sheer amount of pomposity it has taken for you to enter my home. Yet as it is that you are here, I will ask you what exactly is it that you think you know of my demise?”

Roserton shrugged. “I know you will die soon, Lord Lockston. Promised it, actually.”

“Who told you that?”

A sneer lifted the left side of Roserton’s face. “Your wife.”

The words were a gut-punch that Fletch hoped he imperceptibly absorbed. Yet he could not keep the scowl from his mouth. “Why is this your business, Roserton?”

The earl’s sneer widened. “I am merely an interested party.”

Fists clenched, Fletch allowed himself one small step toward Roserton. “It is far past time you exit my house, Lord Roserton.”

Roserton looked around the study slowly, assessing his surroundings. His beady eyes landed back on Fletch. “Not to worry. I can wait. I will enjoy these luxuries in the future.”

Fletch lost all semblance of propriety and rushed Roserton, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back in one furious motion. Shoving him toward and through the door, he manhandled Roserton along the hall, his voice a growl. “I would normally relinquish this particular pleasure onto my man, but in your case, Lord Roserton, I will make an exception.”

Horace was a step ahead of Fletch in the foyer, flinging the front door open wide.

Fletch shoved Roserton out the door, sending him stumbling down the front stairs.

Horace closed the door. “Well done, my lord.”

A quick nod to Horace, and Fletch turned around. The foyer was empty except for Louise standing at the bottom of the stairs, visibly shaken. She looked to Fletch. “Thank you. Thank you for removing him. We could not do that last time.”

“Last time?”

Louise blinked hard, confusion mixed with worry. “Talia did not tell you?”

He advanced on Talia’s sister. “No.” He lorded over her, not softening the fact he was about to get answers from her. “When was he here?”

Her eyes darted about the foyer. “He was here more than a month ago—the day you came back from the countryside.”

“What did he want?”

Louise’s body began to tremble, her head shaking. Fletch had no patience for it.

“Tell me, Louise. Right now. What did he want?”

“To marry me. Mother told me. Talia came in and put a stop to it.”

“Put a stop to it how?”

“I do not know. He was in the drawing room with mother and she could not get him to leave. Talia went in, and he left and has not been back.” Louise’s hands started wringing as she strung together more words than Fletch had ever heard from her. “Talia—she went after him after he stomped out. When she came back with you and her wrist was broken, I wondered what happened, but I didn’t ask—I’ve been too afraid. You were with her so I thought all was well. She said she would rid him from my life. And he hasn’t been mentioned since, nor has he called, so I just assumed she took care of him…”

Fletch pushed past Louise, charging up the stairs three at a time.

“Talia.” He thundered her name as he stomped down the hallway. “Talia.”

He opened the door to her chambers. Silent and still.

“Talia.”

He moved on, stalking into his chambers.

At the side window of the room, craning her neck so she could see the front street, Talia jumped when the door swung open, twisting around.

“Talia, I just shoved the devil out of my home and you have some explaining to do.”

She didn’t move from the window, her nervous eyes looking over her shoulder out the window once more.

“He broke your wrist, didn’t he?”

Her gaze whipped to him, then to the floor. “He pushed. I slipped.”

Fletch crossed the room in two strides. “And you promised that bastard I would die?”

“What? I…I…” She slid backward, her hands gripping the windowsill behind her.

Fletch closed the distance she gained. “What the hell did you do, Talia?”

She cringed. “I told him I would marry him.”

“You what?” Fletch slammed his hands onto the window frame on either side of Talia’s head. “You told the bastard you would marry him?”

“I…I needed to gain time. He knows what happened to Louise, and he wanted to marry her—he threatened to ruin her with her past if we didn’t agree.” Her tongue flew fast, words tumbling in a rush. “I couldn’t let him ruin Louise’s life—she has already lost so much. So I just wanted to gain time and I told him about the curse because it was convenient and he would believe that I would marry him.”

“Dammit, Talia, you should have let me handle him.”

“You were not here. You were at Wellfork Castle. It was all I could think to do in the moment—gain enough time for Louise to find a good, kind husband. One that would be loyal to her and protect her, no matter the circumstances. One that would keep her safe from Cousin Arnold’s tentacles. I needed time for that, and that is what I got.”

“By wrapping yourself up in his tentacles?” His palm slammed again on the frame, shaking the glass. “Blast it to hell, Talia. What would possess you to whore yourself out like that?”

Her look snapped up to him, her voice vehement. “I don’t plan on ever having to marry the man because I am your wife, Fletch. I don’t plan on you dying. Or have you not noticed that?”

“So instead you refuse the possibility of my death and put yourself in danger—within the bastard’s clutches? Idiocy. That is madness, Talia.” He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. Shaking sense into her. “You have to prepare yourself, dammit. Prepare for when I am not here.”

“Prepare myself?” Her hands flew up, shoving his chest. “You swore you would fight, Fletch.”

His fingers snapped away from her body and he whipped from her, his chest heaving.

“You swore it to me.” The words flew at his back, and he could hear the shake in her voice.

Fletch refused to turn back to her, his gaze landing on the tall flames licking high in the fireplace. “Do you not even consider my death a possibility, Talia?”

“I do not.”

“You are lying. You do. I do not know how you could not.” His head shaking, his look lifted from the fireplace to the door. He needed to leave.

Silent in her quickness, she appeared in front of him, her eyes searching his face. Her hand went onto his chest as her eyes narrowed. “Stop. Whatever you are thinking, right now, Fletch, you need to stop it.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking, Talia.”

Her jaw set hard. “You will not leave me. You will not pull away from me. I can see you wavering—wavering from us.”

“I do not want you to have to suffer the pain of loss again, Talia.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked to the ceiling. “I would give anything for that pain to never mar your soul. Do you not see you have to prepare yourself? And if you won’t do so, I need to make you do so.”

Her eyebrows went high. “So you are going to walk out on me? That will prepare me?”

His gaze dropped to her. “If it will lessen the pain, then yes.”

“Fine, Fletch. Fine.” She turned slowly from him, moving to the fireplace. Her hands gripped the arm of the wide leather chair, her shoulders slumping.

Fletch stared at her back, at the slight shake in her shoulders with every breath. All fire had left his wife, the shell of her, vulnerable, trembling. He had thought to make her finally face the real possibility of his death, but not this. Not defeat. Not defeat from the one person that unequivocally believed he would cheat death.

“You don’t think I’ve thought about it, Fletch? Thought about losing you?” She curled forward into herself, words spilling softly, so softly he had to take a step forward to hear her. “I have thought about nothing else since you told me. If you are gone—”

She gasped a breath, a swallowed sob cutting her words. Her fingernails dug into the leather of the chair. “If you are gone. How my fingers will reach for you without thinking and they will only grasp air. How I will roll over in bed, and instead of the warmth of you, it will only be cold. Cold sheets. That I will have something funny to share and I will immediately want to turn to you to tell you. And you won’t be there. That I will walk by your study, and not see you behind your desk. Not see your indulgent smile when I interrupt you with the most inane request. I won’t watch you bend over to tug your boots on like I like to. I won’t have your arm to lean into. None of it. It will only be a memory. Fading. That I will visit your grave. Tend to your flowers. That I will sit by your gravestone, in the dirt, talking to a slab of granite that I am supposed to be comforted by. That I will have to imagine you below ground, in a box—” Her voice choked off.

Three sobs shook her body. Shook it so violently Fletch thought she would collapse.

She swallowed, a garbled moan sending a tremble through her body as she shoved herself from the chair, turning to him. Tears stained her face, but her eyes were clear as they looked at him. Met his gaze with everything in her soul raw, bared to him. “So, yes. Yes, I have thought on it, Fletch. Dwelled on it. But it does not stop me from waking up every morning and needing you. Needing you today. Dreaming of how I will need you tomorrow.”

She moved toward him, her fingers twisting behind her back, loosening her gown. Three steps and she stopped, her gown dropping off her body. She stepped over the wide puddle of silk, untying her stays. Four more steps, and her stays and shift were on the floor.

She stopped in front of him, naked, her nipples brushing the dark cut of his jacket. Staring up at him, her hands slipped under the lapels of his jacket, pushing it off his body. “Beyond that…beyond today, I do not care, Fletch. I cannot allow myself to care. I only want today. You. I need you now in this moment.”

Transfixed, he watched his waistcoat and shirt disappear under her soft fingers, his trousers slipping to the floor as she shuffled him in a circle and then backward. His calves hit the ottoman, and Talia shoved him down to sit, then bent to pull off his boots.

Her hazel eyes didn’t leave his face as she yanked on the leather. “I choose to believe I will never have to suffer any of those things. I choose to not let a future no one can predict get in the way of my happiness in this moment.”

She paused, climbing onto his lap, straddling him as she wrapped her hands alongside his face. “I choose to live in today. I choose to love you with every possible spec of my being. That is how I prepare. I prepare by having no regrets on today.”

She slid onto his shaft slowly, descending, letting him fill her with tortured reserve until he was aching, throbbing to drive fully into her. But he held back. Denying her nothing. And she wanted control.

A groan rumbled from her chest as she reached his hilt, swiveling her hips. Her hands slid down to grip his upper arms, digging into the muscle.

Her body circled, playing with him, offering him depth, and then stealing it away. Sending his cock through her folds, making her growl, and then pulling free, only to slide him deep into her again.

The sheer carnality of her twisting body sent Fletch to an edge he could barely grasp onto. But before he lost all grip, he was determined to take her with him. He would demand no less. He wrapped his hands along her hips, lifting her, setting her down, grinding their bodies together, drawing trembles up and down her body, vibrations she could not control.

It turned her ravenous and her mouth went onto his neck, prodding him, her teeth running along the line of his shoulder, nipping at him when he slowed the pace. The spasms started pulsating in her core, he could feel them build, and none too soon. His last shred of control was splintering.

Shattering, her body jerked, the muscles all along her torso contracting, welling into a scream that vibrated into his neck.

It was all he needed.

He plunged upward, reaching a depth in her he hadn’t fathomed existed.

He came. He came deep within her.

His seed so hard and fast from him, it belonged in no place but the center of his wife. His hands gripped her body tight to his as wave after wave ravaged every nerve, every muscle. Complete abandon.

Her body still shuddering, she pulled her head free from his neck to look into his face. Tears were streaming from her wide eyes.

“You are crying.” Fletch licked the line of salty tears from her left cheek. “I would hope for a better reaction after my performance.”

“You silly man.” She laughed, swatting his back. “You came in me.”

A smile slowly carved his face. A smile set so deep, it hurt his cheeks. “I did. I love you, Talia. And I am living for this day alone. The future will be what it will be.”

She drew a deep breath, her smile not stopping the fresh flow of tears from escaping her wondrous hazel eyes. “You know this means more than anything?”

“I do, my love. I do.”

He stretched up to catch her lips, dragging her down into a kiss. Devouring her very essence.

Not the slightest regret entered his mind.

Today was a fine day, indeed.