Page 15 of The Duke’s Absolutely Fantastic Fling (The Notorious Briarwoods #15)

Teague nodded. “Your request is easily fulfilled. Josephine is merry, intelligent, able to give as good as she gets, a leader in the family, and yet…”

Calchas stilled. “And yet what?”

He frowned, trying to make sense of his own thoughts about it. “There’s something terribly wounded in her, and she thinks I’m wounded too. And that is a problem.”

Calchas peered at him. “You do love her very much,” he said. “You are not wounded?”

Teague shrugged. “Only in the way that almost everyone is. My parents were sad and fought because of the things that were difficult in Scotland. I witnessed poverty and difficulty in the peasants that were not on my father’s land but roved the country out of desperation.

And my father sometimes drank too much when despair hit him, but nothing in excess. There was no great scarring.”

Teague hesitated. The realization had been growing in him over the weeks. “I worry that she thinks I am sadder than I actually am. And I don’t know what to do about it, honestly.”

“Has she discussed hers with you?” Calchas said.

“No,” he shook his head sadly. “She hasn’t. It’s inferred, but she hasn’t shared her life…before with me. I think she’s afraid that her own sorrows will make mine worse. Somehow I have to convince her that I will in fact make her better.”

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” Calchas said swiftly.

“Why?” he demanded. “You sound just like your uncles insisting that I not pursue her.”

“Oh, no, pursue her all you want,” Calchas rushed. “But do not try to be the source of her wellness. Do not try to make her think that you are the cure to her ills.”

“But what if I am?” he asked.

Calchas groaned and put his hand over his eyes. “Of course, a duke thinks he is the answer to everything. Dukes always think they are the answer to everything. Often they’re the source of many ills.”

“Would you say such a thing to your father?” Teague challenged.

“Yes, and to his face. I love him dearly, but he drives everybody mad half the time because, well, he is a bit mad. He’s delightful.

Don’t get me wrong. We love him exactly as he is, but that means not lying about who he is.

We do not try to pretend he is perfect. I’m deeply grateful for him.

The world would be a terrible place without my father.

But the arrogance that comes with a dukedom is indescribable,” Calchas said.

“Frankly, I think everyone should have to go serve on a ship and then the world might be a better place.”

“I’m not going to go serve on a ship,” Teague replied, amazed by Calchas’s transparency and blunt emotion. “But I will take your advice because it does seem like you care for her too.”

“I do care about Josephine,” Calchas said firmly. “I care about every member of this family. So if you love her, I suppose I should stand back and allow you to get climbing.”

Teague cleared his throat. “Are you serious?”

“Have I unmanned you? Are you too wounded to do it?”

A laugh tumbled past Teague’s lips. “No, indeed I am not.”

“Then,” Calchas took a step back and held his arms wide, “I will not stand between you and your lady love. I can tell that you are a good man.”

“Can you?” Teague asked.

“Oh, yes. Now that we’ve conversed and I am looking you in the eye, I can tell you are no roué or rake who’s come to cause harm.”

“I should like to have that skill.”

“What skill?” Calchas demanded.

“The ability to look a man in the face and know if he’s good or not.”

“Don’t you?” Calchas asked softly.

Teague smiled slowly. “Perhaps.”

“I think you do,” Calchas said. “Our family wouldn’t let you near Josephine if you weren’t a wise man.”

“Only wise men are allowed in the Briarwood clan?”

“Wisdom of a sort,” Calchas replied carefully. “We don’t tolerate anyone who isn’t…”

“What?” Teague asked softly, wondering what quality he had that merited his admittance.

“Who isn’t more.”

“Are you two done?” Josephine called from above.

Calchas suddenly beamed, his entire face transforming as he glanced up at his cousin, who had thrown the curtains back and was peering down at them.

“He’s all yours, Josephine. You’ve found a good one.”

All Josephine’s. It sounded like heaven, and he threw Calchas a grateful look.

Calchas inclined his head.

And then much to Teague’s surprise, Calchas bent down, picked up his navel hat, which had lain in the dark shadows, brushed it off, put it back on his head, and said, “Now I’m going to find some cousins to get drunk with.”

“Not too drunk,” Josephine returned. “I expect to take breakfast with you and hear about your adventures.”

Adventures. The look on Calchas’s face was one of love for his cousin and a wound that was growing too wide to share.

And then Calchas approached him slowly and whispered so that only Teague could hear, “Good luck. And if you need assistance convincing the lady to let go of the darkness, I’m no longer your man.

Not while I’m stuck in this damned never-ending set of wars.

But I will say this.” Calchas paused, then locked gazes with him.

“Don’t give up. She might ask you to, but with Josephine? Don’t. She needs someone like you.”

And then Calchas turned and headed off into the night, leaving him to contemplate the strange encounter.

But Josephine waited, and that was far more important than anything.

A man like the Duke of Rossbrea should not appear silly coming through her window, but he did.

She almost could not stop herself from laughing, but the sight of Teague managing to get through the window, hoisting himself into her chamber, really did fill her heart with delight.

“My goodness, you truly wanted to make an entrance. Aunt Estella would approve.”

As he stumbled forward, having barely been able to get his tall frame in, he smoothed his hair and then bowed. “Why, thank you. That is a compliment indeed.”

Josephine’s lips twitched. “But you know you didn’t need to be quite so romantic. I’m sure you could’ve found another way inside.”

He shook his head with exaggerated woe. “I was told the window was the best. According to your uncles, you apparently have a penchant for Romeo and Juliet .”

She folded her hands under her breasts, which were only covered by her thin night rail. Her silk robe was parted. “Oh, the whole family does,” she assured.

He blew out a breath. “Yes, that’s what I was given to understand, but we are to avoid the ending.”

Her brows shot up. “Oh, most definitely. Any sensible Shakespeare lover knows this and would iterate it. We must avoid the ending. For it’s quite terrible.”

“It’s all because of the dratted adults,” he drawled.

She was impressed with his reading of the play. The adults, save the prince, really did cause all the trouble. “Whatever shall we do?”

“Well, you and I are adults,” he whispered as if this was some sort of news. “So, we do everything we can to not make silly decisions, like avoiding the truth or keeping secrets.”

“I agree,” she whispered back, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell him everything about herself. Not because she wished to hide it, but at this moment, she wished only to feel bliss.

She had no wish to travel back to the past and feel the hardest moments of her life right now. There would be a time when she could tell him all of those things. Tonight was not that time.

So, she swiftly shoved the idea from her head and gestured to her body. “Do you like what I’m wearing?” she asked.

His gaze raked over her body, drinking in every curve. “I do,” he drawled. “Did you choose it for me?”

She nodded again. She had dared to select a beautiful lace night rail that was very thin and showed her curves off well, and long a silk robe of pale pink that matched the rose of her cheeks.

She looked down for a moment, gathering her courage before she looked up at him through her lashes. “Would you care to get me out of it?”

He let out a little rumble of approval.

“I adore your boldness.”

“Do you?” she whispered, surprised at how much this mattered to her. For most of her life, she had lived with a cheeky sort of mischief. A boldness. It had only been in the recent weeks that any sort of doubts had crept back in.

“You and I have been drawing to this moment for some time, haven’t we?” he said softly, taking a step towards her.

“Even in Scotland, I wished for this. But I didn’t dare.”

“I wished it too,” he said, “but much was transpiring, and I feared your family would never forgive me.”

She laughed at that. “My family is extremely forgiving.”

He smiled ruefully. “Yes, I do realize that now. After all, I am standing in your chamber after having been told to climb into it by your uncles. I think most people would perish out of shock from such instruction.”

“But here you stand,” she teased, loving their conversations.

“Yes, I do,” he agreed. “For you. For us.”

He crossed to her and slowly, gazing down into her eyes, he took her robe in his hands and slipped it from her shoulders. Gently, he massaged the fabric down her arms and allowed the silk to fall about their feet.

“Now what should I do?” she ventured. “I am still clothed. Will you not undress me further?” she proceeded to tease.

He bit his lower lip as if she had inflamed the deepest of his need from spark to inferno. “Good God, woman, I adore your turn of phrase. A woman who asks for what she wants is delicious beyond words.”

“What is the point if you don’t ask for what you want?” she asked.

“That sounds like a very good maxim for life,” he growled, easing his fingers along the bodice of her night rail.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered. The touch of his roughened fingertips along her skin ignited her own hunger.

She had heard such things in various ways all her life. The sentiment of living fully, living boldly, was one that her aunts and uncles and her cousins had spoken of often.

And so it was odd that she was now suffering moments of panic for no seemingly good reason.

But she would not allow herself to focus on that. No, she would focus on him. The present. For when he kissed her in his garden, all her fears had slipped away. And that’s what she wanted now. She wanted to abandon fear.

His fingers slid to her breasts and the tie nestled between them.

He pulled the ribbons, and then he helped guide the night rail up and over her head. He tossed it across the room to land in a snowy puddle.

Josephine stood naked before him, hoping that he would love what he saw. Teague let out a low growl.

“Is that admiration?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” he rasped before he pulled her to him. He slipped his hands over her back and down to her buttocks. Full of passion, he stroked her thighs, then pulled his hands up the sides of her ribs.

As he wrapped one arm about her to keep her steady, one hand went between her thighs, and he sought out the sensitive spot he had found in the library.

And as he kissed her mouth, he teased the folds between her legs, causing her passion to rise.

It was done with such tenderness that she melted into his arms. She felt completely loved with his touch upon her body, as if all he wanted was to make her feel adored.

“I want you now,” she whispered against his mouth.

Slowly, she leaned back, then began to work at his burgundy cravat. Much to her surprise, it was not easy. It was actually quite difficult, but he was patient with her as she worked at the knot, slipped it from his neck, then turned to his coat, waistcoat, and his fine linen shirt.

Sometimes her fingers fumbled, especially when she tried to undo the buttons at his breeches. His boots were particularly hard, but not as hard as she had anticipated.

Soon he, too, was standing naked before her.

Then, summoning all her courage, she decided to be the woman she wished to be in this moment. She took his hand and led him to her bed.

His eyes widened at this, but out of all the things that might happen to her, she knew this was what she had been waiting for the most.

She had no idea if she would be his duchess at the end of the Season, but she had known that they would be one the moment he asked her to be his.

Her blasted heart wanted this more than anything in the world.

Silently, she climbed up onto the bed, laid back, and offered herself to him.

His breath caught in his throat, and then he climbed up beside her.

Tenderly, he kissed her. Slowly, rapturously, he worked along her body. He teased the peaks of her nipples with his kisses, taking them into his mouth one by one.

Then, to her shock and sudden pleasure, he kissed the soft skin of her inner thighs before he took her soft folds into his mouth, urging her to reach the pinnacle of her pleasure.

Josephine dug her hands into the bed because the pleasure was so much. It was almost too much. And just when she thought it was going to be too much and she would have to pull away, he wrapped his arms around her hips, unrelenting as he stroked her folds with his tongue.

Ecstasy rippled through her as she cried out his name.

Without another moment’s hesitation, he parted her thighs gently, took his sex in his hand, and slid it along her opening. She bit her lower lip, eager for him, even though she felt completely undone from the pleasure he had just given her.

When he thrust into her core, she tensed for a single second, but it was as if her body already knew his, and she opened to him.

Slowly, he eased his sex inside her, making sure there was no pain.

She was awed at his control and determination to please her.

As his hard sex stroked her within, his face strained with the effort it took to maintain his control. But then as soon as he realized that she was not in any sort of distress, they found a rhythm together, quickly working as one.

Though, at first, it was ever so slightly awkward as they learned each other, they soon found a pace.

She stroked her hands down his back as she began to rush towards that bliss that only he could give her. Teague held to her tightly, and then he called out her name, a sound of such perfection that she did not think anything better could exist in the world.

And then she joined him at the top of the world, where the only thing she could think of was him.