Page 9 of Promised to the Worst Duke in England (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #2)

Imogen ought to resist this man’s overtures, but after finding him with a bloody injury and learning how he’d been shot at, she knew beyond all doubt that it had been her cousin who’d tried to kill him.

Clearly, he’d taken her at her word, and she’d been too busy and too aggravated with her husband to write to Philip that she might have changed her mind. To that end, where was her cousin hiding, and when would he try his luck a second time?

More to the point, did she want him to?

But then Alan teased the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, and she opened so he would deepen the kiss. All other thoughts flew out of her head except meeting his determination and matching his skill.

“Why do you feel as if you are an opiate that I can’t remove from my system?” he whispered as he buried his fingers into her hair and easily removed the few pins holding her locks in place.

“Are you saying I’m like laudanum and you’re using me to dull the pain?” Perhaps it wasn’t far from the truth.

“I don’t know.” He tugged on her now-loose hair, brought her head back so that her throat was exposed. “You are one hell of a distraction, and for the moment, I appreciate that.” The whispered words were almost too low for her to catch and made her suddenly question everything she’d previously thought about him. Combined with Lady Miriam’s urgings from yesterday, Imogen was at sixes and sevens around him. It was time they had a proper talk, but in this moment, there was no time for further conversation, for the duke once more pulled her into his arms and then set out to apparently kiss her senseless. A delicious prospect, indeed, and one she heartily agreed with.

Whatever else he was, he knew how to kiss.

Every movement over her lips heightened her need. Why was kissing him so lovely? And more than that, why did she enjoy kissing so much more than she had in the past? To be fair, the few lovers she’d taken, she barely let them kiss her because of a misconnect in her brain that connected it with her past. But that didn’t seem to matter with Alan; she fed off his energy.

With a sound that could have been encouragement or surrender, Imogen slipped her hands up his chest and held onto his shoulders as she kissed him back, matched every movement of his mouth. Each nip and nibble brought her closer to a new direction in their relationship; it was difficult to explain, even to herself, but perhaps she didn’t want to. With his interest and yes, even with this forced marriage and his arrogant possession when he claimed her body, this man had made her feel as if she wasn’t a failure or overlooked as she’d been made to feel from her family. When she dared to tangle her tongue with his, slide hers along the satin of his, the duke groaned.

“You will drive me into madness?”

“Yes, because in this at least I’d have company,” she admitted in a whisper. There was no going back from this, and it was quite different from their other couplings… she wanted this one.

“Small comfort there.” He roughly tugged her flush against his body, and there was no mistaking the hard press of his aroused member at her belly. “Not that I mind. Madness doesn’t necessarily mean broken,” he whispered just before he brought his mouth crashing down on hers again. The hunger in the embrace not only matched her own but also fed it. Heated desire shuddered through her, sent fire into her blood, and she kissed him back as if she couldn’t have enough.

Perhaps she couldn’t. Panting, she broke the kiss, once more staring into his eyes. “Where?”

“Think, duchess. We are in the middle of a meadow, and there is no one around for miles.” Humor wove through his response, and she rather enjoyed that side of him.

“Then why haven’t you tried to relieve me of my clothing yet?” What had come over her? She wasn’t supposed to find solace or companionship with this man.

Was she?

But knowing her cousin had attempted to kill him that morning changed things. It was her fault that he was in the crosshairs, and despite everything he was, the duke didn’t deserve that.

“Now that is a lovely suggestion. You are proving quite the scandal, Lady Averly. Very addicting. You suit me quite well.” Between kisses and licks and nibbles, he assisted her out of the jonquil-colored day dress and petticoat beneath while she half-tugged half-shoved his jacket and then waistcoat off his body quickly followed by his fine lawn shirt.

“I merely know my own mind and won’t have anything else.” Another truth. “It is what has put me into trouble for as long as I can remember.” It was the closest she would come to telling him her secrets.

Right now.

As he toed off his boots with a few odd, hopping steps to keep his balance, she held his gaze and removed her stays. Then because they were long past maidenly shyness or any sort of decorum, she slowly drew off her shift until she was naked before him with the exception of stockings, garters, slippers, and the ring he’d bestowed upon her the day of their nuptial ceremony. The silence was deafening, for she’d not been fully nude in front of him even though they’d already coupled and had done a host of other wicked things. “Well?”

When she went to cover herself, Alan grabbed her hands and held them out as he roved his gaze over her form. “Damn.” He moved fast, like a jungle cat, and before she knew what he was about, he’d knocked her legs out from beneath her, cradled the back of her head in one hand, wrapped his other arm about her hips and cushioned their tumble into the sweet, cool meadow grass. “I am about to fuck you senseless, and show you how much I appreciate your body.”

A shiver twisted down her spine. “I possess a mirror, and thus I know I am average at best,” she whispered, but she couldn’t help looping her arms about his shoulders.

“Gammon, of course. Somehow, I think you were always meant to be a duchess,” he said between peppering the underside of her jaw with nips and nibbles that bordered on savage.

“Oh, but you are quite wrong.” It wouldn’t do to blurt out the reasons why, which would steal away the desire they shared. There was plenty of time for that.

“I am never wrong.” He once more returned to her lips and seemed all too content to remain there while his hands went exploring.

She concentrated on him as every other thought flew out of her mind. The pleasant, familiar weight of him as he covered her body with his added to her ardor and excitement. Everywhere her hands went, they met with taut muscles and crisp hair on his chest and arms. He was firm and hard and delicious in all the right places a man should be, and she couldn’t wait to see him as fully nude as she was.

“Shall I take you into my mouth again?” In that respect, she could wield the power and perhaps guide the coupling. Recenter her own confidence.

“Not today, but soon. I had no idea you possessed such skill.” The dratted man was persistent in exploring her form and he focused on her breasts. Her nipples seemed to fascinate him, for he immediately embarked on a series of teasing and torturing strokes and pinches that pulled a soft moan from her throat. The second his lips were on a sensitive nipple, and he sucked that bud into the warm cavern of his mouth, tingles of need shot through her veins. She wriggled into a more comfortable position. He apparently agreed, for he rolled her other nipple, and those sensations ushered her closer to bliss, for those buds were the most responsive part of her.

And he knew it, damn his eyes.

His hands were everywhere, caressing, petting, touching, building her anticipation, working her into a frenzy of heated need. She was floating on a sea of expanding pleasure created by his talented fingers and mouth. Coiling, building pressure collided with frantic sensation through her body to further stoke the fires he’d ignited.

Needing to touch him, Imogen caressed her hands up and down his back. The pads of her fingers encountered more than a few scars that marred the skin. How had he acquired them? From his father’s beatings? Eventually, she would ask, but right now, she was content with having him in her arms, exploring his chest with its sprinkling of red hair. Eventually, she placed kisses over his cheeks and chin while drawing a hand between them to cup his equipage through the fabric of his breeches. The rasp of his whiskers against her lips enhanced the wicked desire curling through her lower belly, and she moaned again.

“Alan, please.” She arched her back in the hopes he would take the hint. “Don’t draw this out. You never have before.”

“There are times when intercourse shouldn’t be rushed.” In the dim light from the overcast skies, that same desire that ran amuck through her veins reflected in those hazel depths of his eyes but was tempered with shadows and secrets.

“Show me the rest of you. I want to explore, but if I’m being honest, I just want you.” Her voice caught. “I am weak and have the same needs as you.”

He snorted. “Does that mean you’ve made peace with our union?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“I don’t know.” The duke claimed her mouth in a hard kiss before pulling away and leveraging off her. “Don’t move.” He didn’t go far as he shucked out of his breeches, and she looked her fill. After all, he was her husband.

That torso she hadn’t yet fully explored beckoned but she slid her gaze downward, following the thin line of red hair past his waist, down his flat, ridged abdomen to where his thick, rampant length bobbed from a nest of red curls. How well she remembered what that organ had felt like in her hands, what he’d tasted like on her tongue, how he felt when claiming her with forced possession and mastery. Heated tingles went through her core while anticipation buzzed at the base of her spine.

When he joined her once again, Imogen wasted no time in caressing his form. When she drew one of her hands down his abdomen to skim over that silky-steel length, he sucked in a breath. “I could do so many amazing things to you right now.” Least of which would be to lick champagne from his navel or that dip in his chest. Oh, and she wanted to tease his flat, pink nipples merely to see how he would react. Could she send him close to the brink from such stimulation?

She hoped.

“You are certainly good for my ego.”

“As if that needs any more inflation. You’re quite arrogant.”

“I am a duke.” As if that explained everything. “Play if you wish, for when I grow bored, I’ll take command.”

For the next few moments, Imogen caressed and kissed whatever part of him she could access, for he continued to do the same to her, and he was quite cheeky about it by keeping her on the edge with erotic intent without sending her over. Sometimes, she forgot she was supposed to be pleasuring him, for his touch was so exquisite, but before she could fully tease his length and stones the way she wanted, he took both of her hands in his, pushed them over her head in the fragrant grass, then settled himself between her splayed legs. There was something so delicious about having her hands and arms temporarily immobile, and despite herself, she looked forward to his threat of being tied to his bed. How would that enhance such play?

The tip of his hardened member glanced over her opening, and shivery sensations went down her spine. “If I had known how lush your body was, I would have come to claim you sooner.”

She snorted. “Don’t be more of an arse than you can help, Averly. You never wanted this marriage.”

“No, but you have somehow made it more tolerable.” Then he encouraged her to wrap her legs about his waist, and she locked her ankles at the small of his back.

“Oh, another compliment. How romantic,” she said with heavy sarcasm in her voice.

“God, I want to put that tart mouth of yours to so many uses.”

“I don’t believe I’ve bid you nay.” Needing to feel closer to him, Imogen kissed his chin, his cheeks, his forehead. “Don’t make me wait, Alan.”

“Now who has the ego?” He nuzzled the crook of her shoulder. Without another word, he speared into her body, penetrating her fully, didn’t stop until he’d gone in stone’s deep. Her moan blended with his, became simply one of the other sounds from the pastoral world around them. “If nothing else, you and I are quite a good fit carnally.”

“Perhaps, but life needs to have more substance, don’t you agree?” Though now wasn’t the time for such a discussion, she needed that reassurance, for in many ways, they were metaphorically at a crossroads with this coupling.

“Perhaps, but in this instance, I’m all the substance you need.” He moved his hips, thrusting his length impossibly deeper, but he kissed her lips as he did so. Surprisingly, that joining of mouths was gentle, almost tender in its delivery, and it boggled her mind. What was more, he also treated her to lingering, long strokes that had the power to see her come undone more quickly than their frantic, more powerful joinings.

And they made her more confused than ever about him.

“Alan…” This was something she’d not prepared for, had never experienced in her life. While pleasure shivered through her body, she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, and when she met his gaze, the speculation and consternation she saw there baffled her.

What was he thinking?

“Don’t look at me like that. There is nothing more than this moment right now. Consider it a pause in our volatile relationship.” Surprise reflected in those hazel depths; had he felt that same connection she had just then? When he kissed her, his lips trembled, a sure sign he was as vulnerable in this moment as she. Yet he continued to spear into her, this time with more authority, and she canted her hips to receive him. “God, I’m going to come too soon.” Then he groaned, held her tighter, closer. His thrusts accelerated. Shorter and deeper he went. Sensations engulfed her, and her brain couldn’t catch up to the change in rhythm. The coupling became all too frantic as they worked to send each other flying.

“Oh, oh, yes!” Her breath came in pants to mirror the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat. Need stacked and coiled low in her belly as she clung to him, reveled in the breadth and solidness of his shoulders, the play of the muscles in his back, the slick thickness of his length as he penetrated her body again and again and again . When he slipped a hand between them to rub that swollen button with a fingertip, her world tilted and shuddered. A rush of heated sensation crashed into her and reminded her of the first time he'd taken her without her consent. “I need more, Averly,” she panted.

The duke renewed his efforts, both in worrying that nubbin and stroking into her body. Everything that she was, he claimed as his own, and she willingly gave it. In this one moment, she surrendered completely to him, trusted him. What would that decision ultimately cost her, and would she feel embarrassment about it later?

Only time would tell.

“Ah!” It took little effort to fall into release.

While her body tensed and convulsed, he stroked deeply into her, and the feelings were made even more intense by the sensations of shattering. Like a man possessed, he stroked her nubbin as her back arched and she met each thrust, for he wasn’t yet through. Sweat trickled down her back as she clung to his shoulders in an effort to hold him closer and keep herself grounded. Suddenly, Imogen was tossed over that edge into bliss again where nothing existed except pleasure, her, and him. A cry left her throat, and surprisingly, tears wet her cheeks. When had finding bliss made her cry?

“Scream my name, Imogen. Tell the world that your husband is your greatest lover.” Once more, he bedeviled her swollen pearl. “Give me the satisfaction.”

“Bastard.” And she fell again, hard. For his benefit, she screamed, called out his name, and there was a certain freedom in it as her body shuddered and shivered.

Alan chuckled. His eyes darkened with impossible desire. The second he reached his own release, his shout was muffled, for he’d pressed his lips into the crook of her shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

As she came back down to earth, it felt as if she would melt into the meadow grass and wildflowers. “Dear God, that was unexpected.” Words escaped her. Heated contentment filled her being while his length pulsed inside her. “You aren’t exactly the scoundrel I’ve expected.” Pausing to draw breath, she then sighed. “Never forget that, Alan, even when your mind, your circumstances would try to tell you otherwise.” Perhaps he truly was a good man like Lady Miriam had said.

She merely had to dig deeper. Would he let her?

“Perhaps we can be unwanted together,” he said against the shell of her ear as he rolled onto his side, taking her with him to hold her tight into his embrace. “Broken by scandal and life is more tolerable if there is someone who understands nearby.”

“Yes.” Tears welled in her eyes, for there had never been anyone there for her when she needed them.

She didn’t know how long they lay there with tangled limbs amidst their discarded clothing while the sounds of the day engulfed them, and the tall grasses hid them from view. Perhaps being with him was indeed where she should be at this time in her life, and it was time to start making the best of a bad situation.

He nibbled a path beneath her ear and jaw that made her positively giddy with renewed need even though heavy lethargy slipped through her limbs. “There is something about you that compels me to spill all my secrets.”

“Oh?” Her pulse increased once more. “It isn’t a crime to lighten the burden you carry. We all have one, we all hide pieces of ourselves from the world we’d rather not show for fear we’ll be judged on those things instead of the rest of ourselves.”

“Perhaps.” For long moments, he held her while one of his hands trailed aimlessly up and down her back, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. “What if I’m not strong enough to share some of those shadows?”

She shrugged, then a tired yawn took hold. “Then we shall wait for another day, when you are strong enough.” But she knew exactly what he meant, for sharing her history, her shame, was terrifying and she shrank from it. “Regardless, we can’t remain at each other’s throats. It will shove us apart before we can figure anything out, and frankly, I don’t want to spend my life like that.” A huff escaped. “I thought I would destroy your life as you have mine, but the fight has already been exhausting.”

“Agreed. Oddly, as much as I did enjoy our sparring, being shot at this morning has me thinking differently about… everything.” There was nothing but truth in his eyes.

“Good.” Hot guilt twisted through her chest, for it was her fault. “Then shall we lay down new terms for our union?” As her mind became unclouded, she gasped. “You didn’t withdraw this time.”

“You’re right; I did not.” His eyes rounded. Apprehension filled the brown, green depths. “I apologize. No doubt I was carried away by the emotions of the moment.” When he tangled one of his hands into her hair, he tugged on the tresses, no doubt to remind her of his dominance, she welcomed the slight pricks of pain. “I did demand that you remain with me until you fell pregnant, but were children ever a dream of yours?”

“I…” Knowing that he had tried to be a gentleman about it had tears prickling the backs of her eyelids. She glanced at something beyond his left shoulder. “Truth to tell, I hadn’t truly given it thought. I never expected to become a mother, and frankly, I always thought I didn’t want to bring a child into this world that hosted so many horrible people and events.” She paused to think over her next words. With the banishment to Derbyshire, she hadn’t expected much at all from life. “For years, I worked at my painting. My childhood wasn’t all that pleasant so I assumed since I was left alone, that I wouldn’t need to worry about such things.”

He leaned into her, nipped at the sensitive skin of her throat. “That doesn’t answer my question, duchess.”

From deep within, a wave of dark need made itself known again. “I don’t know. Suffice it to say, I might.” Focusing on him again, she sighed. “What if I’m a failure at being a mother? What if I continually give you daughters instead of a son? You’ll resent me, I’ll wager.” Her swallow was audible. “And I am quite certain I am not what a duchess should be.”

“Why?”

“Oh, so many things.” When her chin quivered, she hid her face in the crook of his shoulder. “This life, the expectations placed upon me, knowing how important you are in the beau monde … I’m frightened. My confidence long ago deserted me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover it.”

When she thought he would shove her concerns aside or tell her she was wrong, Alan merely nodded. “You have no idea how much I understand those sentiments.”

“Why?” It was her turn to ask a one-word question.

“That is a story for another time.” Releasing her hair, he urged her onto her back then he moved down her body, kissing a path between her breasts, down her torso, over her mons. “I have one condition for our temporary truce going forward.”

“Oh?” How was she breathless and needy after what she’d just shared with him? Yet she made no protest when he urged her thighs apart and her knees to bend as he maneuvered between them.

“I want you to tell me why there are rumors out there saying you killed a man. I would have the whole story, for frankly, a duchess with a past is already more interesting than a woman who has done nothing in her life.” The warmth of his breath as he spoke wafted over her sensitive bits.

A shiver careened down her spine. “Oh, I…”

“You don’t need to reveal all now, just sometime in the future.”

Finally, she nodded. “Fair enough. I suppose you’ll need to know eventually.” And then he would also know why she was a horrible choice for a duchess, why she would eventually fail him, and cause society to turn on him and further push him to the opposite end of respectability. “But I want the same from you, want to know why you are letting your past hold you prisoner, why you guard your heart behind a cage of steel.”

“Agreed, but not today.”

When she would have moved into a sitting position, he rested a flat palm on her belly, holding her steady. “Averly?”

“Our session is not yet ended, and I didn’t give you permission to leave. I am not yet satisfied.” Then, with a wicked grin, he put his mouth over her still-sensitive nubbin and sucked it into his mouth.

“Dear Lord,” she whispered seconds before familiar, heated sensations shot through her blood to separate her from sanity all over again.

How am I going to survive anything connected to him?