Page 15 of The Duke's List
After a fearsome pounding of both of their bodies, he came with a howl. While he was trying to return to normal breathing, Jane ground herself against his still throbbing cock until she shuddered against him.
A film of sweat covered his forehead, and his clothes were in shambles. With his cock still inside her, Jane lay back and smiled up at him. Her face and breasts also bore a sheen of sweat.
Sidmouth feared he’d never again be able to sit at this same desk with his steward and accountant to go over the estate ledgers without remembering this moment.
He knew to the last shilling what his estates were worth but for the life of him could not put a price on the current smile on Jane’s face or the roses on her cheeks. He’d won. His duchess loved him. She’d return to her rightful place at Bocollyn.
He pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat which they shared to make themselves presentable enough to leave the study.
While he was still basking in the afterglow of victory, Jane rose from his desk, kissed him on his forehead with great tenderness, and stole out the door of his study.
“Wait…” He made a hurried attempt to straighten his clothes before racing to the door to stop her. She’d already disappeared down one of Bocollyn’s cavernous hallways. He had an uneasy suspicion his frustrating wife was not headed to the rightful chambers of the Duchess of Sidmouth. Where had he gone wrong?
Jane satcross-legged on the counterpane on Harriet’s bed whilst the two of them tried to decide what to wear to the festive supper that night welcoming the acting troupe.
Harriet tossed her third choice back onto the bed to the dismay of her lady’s maid. “I think I’ve been eating too much of your cook’s desserts. I never eat dessert, but I can’t stop myself. Every night.”
Jane angled her a wry look. “I don’t think sweets did that to your waist.” She pointed to Harriet’s obviously thickening waist and giggled.
“What?” Harriet’s tone was sharp.
“I think maybesomeonesweet is under there causing your dresses to need letting out.”
Harriet flushed a deep rose. “That’s what I was afraid of,” she admitted, and the women’s two maids exchanged knowing looks before leaving to retrieve some hot water for their mistresses.
“Lord, what a goose I’ve been. I would have thought Your Grace would have been increasing before me.” She twirled in front of the mirror and pulled her shift tightly over the small swell beginning to show. “We were married but a few weeks, and here I am, a babe in my belly already.”
At the puzzled look on Jane’s face, Harriet elaborated. “Lieutenant Bourne is such a fine man, I couldn’t help myself. He hadn’t been at the lodge but a day or two when I made him make love to me. I hadn’t been with a man for five years. Didn’t need one. But there he was. All that Irish male in a Royal Marine uniform.
And I… I thought a babe would take a few years to take root in me, the way it was with Lord Blandford.” She gave a deep sigh. “Thank God your big bully of a husband pushed us into getting married before Richard’s ship left for Africa.”
“Come on, Harriet, I know Lieutenant Bourne wanted to marry you from the first. You were the one who kept putting him off.”
Harriet turned away from Jane to check her stomach again in the mirror. “Yes, and all the while I was putting off his declarations, I was gorging myself on his, um…person, as often as I could.” She turned back to Jane. “You saw him. You even asked me who that gorgeous man was before you knew him. You’re lucky I didn’t attack you with your own carriage whip that night. There was no way I was going to deny myself that particular pleasure.”
At a tap at the door, their maids and a footman sloshed in with two tubs of steaming water.
Once they were alone, Harriet spoke again. “I hate to poke my nose where it doesn’t belong, but what is going on between you and Sidmouth?”
“That’s an interesting question.” Jane made a show of carefully loosening the laces on her bodice. “Why do you ask?”
“From the rumpled state of that ‘Beatrice’ costume, I smell a juicy tryst. Does this mean you’re moving back into Bocollyn House?”
Jane gave her a mysterious smile, with the ambiguous look of a Botticelli model. “It’s still early in the game. He’s made it only as far as the first ask on my list of requirements. We shall see how badly Sidmouth wants me back in his bed.”
Harriet’s mouth dropped open before her expression changed to a knowing grin. “Well done, Your Grace. Well done.”
Chapter Twelve
On his wayback from a late afternoon ride, Sidmouth stopped by his steward’s cottage to let him know about the stray sheep wandering around the bluffs near the lodge.
The ride had taken the edge off his frustration with his duchess once again side-stepping his entreaties to return to his house. He thought he’d made a hell of a run at fulfilling her havey-cavey list of demands.
But, no. Apparently she was going to hold out for the rest of her crazed requests. He did have to admit, however, that ticking off the first item on the list had ended with the most pleasurable romp with a woman in his life. He could still feel the softness of the skin on her inner thighs as he made love to her on the desk in his study.
Yet another cockstand accompanied his latest thoughts of his duchess. And his knees were sore. He’d been so engrossed in making love to Jane, he hadn’t noticed how long he’d been bent over the desk. Zeus. Could he be getting decrepit at only thirty? Oh, hell no. He was more than ready to make illicit use of his desk again as soon as he could coax Her Grace back into his study.
When his steward finally answered his insistent knocks on the door, it appeared Sidmouth and his duchess had not been the only ones indulging in nighttime pursuits in the middle of the day. His somber, staid steward, Oxley, furtively straightened his braces as he welcomed Sidmouth into the cottage.