Page 32 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

A cry of pain escaping his lips, John woke and sat up, feeling the full weight of horror in his chest. The sheet was tangled and twisted about his waist and his skin was clammy. The single candle he had left burning at his bedside was flickering wildly, reduced to a stub.

For a minute John had no idea where he was but then his mind cleared and he regained his breath. Why would his mind not let this go? He was not a child any more. His father and mother were right, it did not matter. Yet it did, deep down, it did.

Why would they not tell him, though? What would need to be so secret?

He slid his legs over the edge of the bed, rested his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands as he felt the despair which always came after his dream.

He no longer gave a damn about the blackmail. Wareham could do what he wished. John’s power was too great for any scandal to touch him. People would not care. People did not dare to judge a duke.

The air in the room felt thick and hot as he breathed steadily, trying to get control of his mind. It was no use. No matter how he tried, he could not let the question go.

Why had she not been there?

Clarity suddenly gripped his thoughts. If his family would say nothing, then there was only one choice, he had to find out for himself.

Harvey could use the same influence he was using to discover Wareham’s history.

Then once John knew, this would be over.

There would be no more uncertainty and no more dreams.

A warm ache whispered in his chest as his hands fell to his thighs and his back straightened. He wished Katherine here.

A creak drew his attention to the bedchamber door. There was movement outside his room. Had someone heard him cry out like a child?

The door handle turned without a knock.

His breath caught as he watched the door open.

It was Katherine. She slipped through the gap and closed the door behind her. Her gaze came to him, as he sat facing her with only a slither of sheet across his hips covering his nakedness.

She looked like a damned angel come to dispel his darkness, clothed in her white nightgown from neck to toe. Her hair fell about her shoulders, tumbling down her back, glowing gold in the flickering candlelight.

He had just thought of her and here she was. She hesitated by the door.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, before taking a deep breath as he felt desire sweep away all other thoughts. He wanted her physically and emotionally with every sinew of his body.

‘I came to see you.’

‘Obviously. Why?’

‘I… You need someone, John.’

I need you, Katherine . ‘Katherine,’ he said, in a deep heavy voice.

‘If you stay in this room, I cannot say what I will do. I told you earlier I am not in a good mood. I am in no mood for restraint. Get out if you wish to preserve your chastity.’ It was a cold and callous thing to say but maybe it would make her leave and save her from herself, and him.

‘Go away, Katherine,’ he said more gently.

But instead of leaving, she came across the room in swift strides. Then her hands were in his hair, brushing through it and she pulled his head against her breasts.

Her touch was such gentle agony.

‘John.’

He closed his eyes, reaching for her and clinging to the cloth by her hips. ‘Leave, please, Katherine. It is what you ought to do. I have nothing to give you. You know it as well as I do.’

‘You have yourself,’ she whispered, her fingers stroking through his hair, ‘and I have myself to give you. Trust me.’

He felt like that damned child driving away in the carriage with his grandfather and fighting tears because he knew if he let them fall he would be beaten.

He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t ever trust a soul with the truth inside him.

But he could have her. He could have her and feel eased as he used to feel eased even by the she-wolves abroad.

Except she would be giving generously not taking and she was full of a light he wanted to bathe in.

He wanted to be free from the darkness inside him.

Lifting his head away from her breasts, he looked up and met her gaze.

Her eyes were shining with that look he thought might be love. ‘If you do not want to consummate what is between us, Katherine, go. I do not think I can restrain myself tonight.’

‘I cannot leave.’ Her fingers touched his cheek as her gaze held his. ‘You were right, I love you. I have loved you for as long as I remember and I cannot walk away knowing you need me.’

He shut his eyes. He felt horribly inadequate.

He could not say I love you to her. ‘I need you,’ he said, his eyes still closed as he took a deep breath and lust roared through his veins.

He needed to feel in control again. He opened his eyes and looked up at her.

‘I need you with me. Don’t go. Stay.’ I want to feel desired and wanted for who I am and not what I have. I feel human with you.

His hands held her hips, and her fingers splayed across the top of his head like a benediction. She was going to let him do this. He pressed his lips to the cloth covering her stomach and then took a breath as he pulled back, lifting his gaze to meet hers again. ‘Take off your nightgown.’

If he was decent and honest and good he would not do this – if he was not so bitterly cold, lonely and in pain, he would not do this.

As she unbuttoned her nightgown he lay back on the bed, his weight on one elbow, while his other hand lifted the sheet for her to join him. Once she was naked she lay down next to him.

His heart pounded as he leaned over and kissed her, his hand covering her breast.

He had said he had no restraint but he had, his desire was to take her fast and swift in a desperate race towards escape but this was her first time so he held back.

Her soft body was like silk as his fingers skimmed over her, arousing her while he kissed her with a deep slow adoration.

His hand slipped between her thighs and stroked her there; her legs opening and letting him touch.

When he slipped his fingers into her wetness and her warmth it was like heaven opening up.

Her fingers ran over his shoulders and her lips answered his kiss, her tongue dancing hungrily with his as he felt her breath turn to panting desperation and then she could no longer kiss him but just clung as she toppled into ecstasy.

He moved across her, treasuring the moment, fixing every detail of her in his mind, to keep forever, he settled between her legs, parting them wider with his own and positioning himself to enter her before she came back down to earth.

With a swift sharp stroke he was baptised, dropped into the water and lost beneath it. He had died and now he was about to rise again, like a phoenix, out of darkness and into light. Even though he knew his entry had caused her pain, her eyes were full of the look he thought was love.

Was it love? Could she love him? Him, who did not deserve love. Him, whose own mother could not do it well enough to have stayed by his side when he was young.

He discarded the thought by burying himself in her. He did not wish to think of the past, just Katherine. He moved slowly and carefully, conscious that this might be sore for her.

Her hips lifted and pressed back against him and he saw her fingers claw in the sheet. She bit her lip and shut her eyes, her chest rising and falling more quickly.

His buttocks worked harder, his hips moving in stronger longer strokes as he felt lust take a hold of him, gripping him by the back of the neck and urging him to hurry, to get to the end – to simply take and not give.

But she seemed to like his stronger movement and with a cry after a while, her hands clasped his hips, and he felt her break about him with a gasp, as though she could not quite believe how it felt.

He let his own reins go, feeling thoroughly relaxed and absorbed by her, giving her the honesty she gave him as he panted, sighed and growled while he claimed her over and over again.

Her fingers touched all over his body, on his buttocks, at his sides, on his biceps and in his hair, as they shared this escape. It felt so much more intimate with her. She was in his head, his heart and his soul while he was so physically inside her.

He held her gaze and clung to it as he drew towards the end. Staring into her precious look of love, bathing in it, until the moment he broke and cried out. He could neither breathe nor think as release swamped him.

He shut his eyes. That had felt good. He felt so relaxed, sated, and tired.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her over him.

Her head pillowed on his shoulder and her leg and arm came over him. He was utterly humbled by her.

‘I love you,’ she said again.

He ought to say it back even though it was not true.

He felt callous not doing so, and yet he had always loathed lying.

‘ Have I not told you, your mother is dead .’ Those were his grandfather’s words the day he had taken John back.

That had been a lie John had always known was not true, a lie John had been forced to live.

The childhood feelings crashed over him again. This reprieve had only been momentary, but what a gift.

Still physically sated, if not now mentally relieved, he fell asleep.