Page 10 of Two Nights with the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #3)

L ater that evening, Jocelyn found herself once more staring at the bed she and Camborne shared. Her excitement mounted, for she would now be sharing it with him as his wife. Would it feel different? Perhaps even more wonderful because of the commitment behind the intimate act? She would find out soon, for he was eyeing her with heat and the hint of a rakish smile as he undressed.

“Jocelyn, ye’re staring at the bed again.”

“Only for happy reasons, Camborne. Do you mind that I call you that? It feels so formal. Would you prefer me to call you by something other than your title? By your given name, perhaps? Or an endearment? Or husband ?” she said with a grin, for she could not deny the thrill of becoming his wife and was enjoying the newness of it.

He laughed softly. “No, lass. Camborne is fine. I happen to like the impudent way ye say it. Ye’re a little thing, and yet I feel as though I ought to leap to attention whenever I hear it on yer lips.”

She cast him a look of dismay. “Oh, no. Then I do sound like a harpy.”

He moved behind Jocelyn and wrapped his arms around her. “No, lass. Ye sound as though ye can stand up to me and at the same time hold me in yer affection. It sounds good. Not at all cloying or demanding, and not subservient either. While we’re on the topic, do ye have a preference for what I should call ye?”

She leaned back slightly to nestle against his bare chest, for he had slipped off most of his clothes and now wore only his trousers. “No,” she said with a shake of her head, warmed by the heat of his skin. “Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine with me.”

The mere sound of his voice made her tingle. The deep, rich brogue was so delicious. It always got her heart racing.

He kissed her softly on the neck. “Would ye mind if I called ye ‘sweetheart’ whenever we are in private moments?”

She turned in his arms to look up at him in surprise. “I would not mind at all. This would please me immensely. Are you sure?”

“Not a doubt, sweetheart .”

She could not contain her smile. “Thank you, Camborne .”

Perhaps this was his compromise, since he was not ready to say that he loved her—not that she expected him to make any promises or admit any attraction at this early point in their marriage. Obviously, he did not want to make her feel unwanted. Settling on this endearment was a good compromise and assuaged her disappointment.

In truth, she was not really disappointed that he did not love her yet. This was too big a step for him to take, considering how guarded and cautious he was. She knew it would happen in time.

Well, she hoped it would.

She leaned back against him, loving the warmth of his skin against her cheek and his subtle, musky scent.

His heart beat strong and steady, while hers was rampant. “I’m glad I waited for you,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

But he heard her and kissed her lightly on the neck again. “So am I, sweetheart.”

He then helped her out of her gown, leaving her only in her linen undergarments.

She moaned softly. “I should have worn the silk today.”

“No, lass. It does no’ matter. Ye look lovely just as ye are. Besides, ye had no time to think about it, as we were in a mad rush to reach the church.”

“It feels like a lifetime ago.” She was seriously considering wearing those silk unmentionables tomorrow, because she was beginning to understand the sensual power of a woman’s body in silk. It was but a fabric, but somehow enhanced the sensation of touch and stirred one’s desire.

She yearned to have him desire her. Would he respond at all to her plain linen undergarments?

He kissed her bare shoulders as he slipped the straps of her chemise off her.

“Jocelyn,” he said, her name tearing from his lips with a heartfelt groan as he regarded her with smoldering eyes. He swept her in his arms and they fell onto the bed, clutching each other and eager to fulfill the duties of a wedding night. His kisses were hot and hungry, more so than last night, when, she realized, he had been gentle and determined to hold back.

But not tonight. He seemed ravenous for her, his lips searing as they crushed down on hers, devouring her and conquering her, demanding she surrender.

Was there a doubt she would? She was his wife, his to possess and love forever more.

But he was hers, too.

He kissed her breasts and then lower, his need to know her and memorize all of her almost primal. He inhaled her scent, tasted her skin with soft licks that set her on fire and sent her to new heights of pleasure.

Each hot kiss, each intimate touch of his roughened hands, had her tingling, and she was soon soaring.

This was his way of claiming her, of connecting their bodies and their hearts. Of binding their souls.

Of promising to always protect her.

She was his craving, and by this love act he was embedding her in his soul.

She was doing the same, feeling the same primal hunger.

Dear heaven. His big, muscled body was insanely hot.

He moved inside her with powerful grace, touched her and stroked her until she was mindless and breathless and wanted him so badly, she thought her heart would burst.

She tried to hold back as he took her, but she was on the verge of shattering and still hungry for more. She wanted everything of him.

“Ye’re almost there, love,” he murmured, and then smiled when she softly cried his name. “I have ye, Jocelyn. I have ye, my lovely lass.”

She clung to him and took his deep thrusts as he filled her with pleasure.

He soon followed in his own release, emitting a lion’s growl and rolling onto his back once he’d drained every drop of himself inside her. Breathing heavily and smiling rakishly, he drew her into the circle of his arms and settled her atop him so that her bosom pressed against his chest and her legs tangled with his.

Their bodies were hot and damp. Their breaths had yet to steady. Their bedcovers were in an impossible tangle around their bodies.

Naked bodies.

His was magnificent, hard and muscled and scarred in places other than merely his cheek. He had one scar at his hip and another along his upper arm. She traced her fingers along the dusting of hair on his chest to feel for more. “Did you get these during the war?”

He let out a breath. “Some of them. Others I got when falling down drunk after a night of…of doing things I should no’ have been doing. But those days are over for me. I gave ye my vow.”

She gave him a light kiss on his chest. “Camborne, I hope to make you happy.”

“Ye will, lass. Ye will.”

“You sound quite sure.”

He smiled as he ran his fingers lightly through her unbound hair. “I am. Why should I stray when I have the prettiest girl in my arms? And the tastiest, too. I love yer scent. Ye’re a sweet summer apple. Delicious.”

“And just a bit tart?”

“Ye’re perfect. I love the way ye respond to my touch.”

“Camborne,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “all women must respond to you in this fashion. I’m sure they do.”

He shrugged. “Aye, could be. I never knew what was real and what was not. Mostly, it was a mere performance to gain my favor in the hope I would be generous afterward. It’s different with ye, lass. Better. I will always get honesty from ye.”

She nodded. “I love this. I will never mind falling asleep in your arms. In fact, I believe it is a requirement.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That we share a bed?”

She cast him an impish smile. “I believe it is written in our marriage license.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “This husband is happy to comply with the terms of said marriage license. My arms will always be open to ye, Jocelyn.”

“Mutual, Camborne.”

He ran his fingers lightly through her hair again, his touch as gentle as a caress. “How do ye feel, lass? Did I hurt ye?”

“No, it was wonderful. I think yesterday’s initiation rite against the wall has turned me wanton. It was a lovely sampling of the thrills to come.”

“Och, lass. That wall… It was nice. But it could no’ have been comfortable for ye.”

“Worse for you, although you did not seem to mind. I like this. You and me with our arms wrapped around each other. You make me feel cherished.” She let out a shaky breath. “You make me feel glad I held out for you.” She glanced up at him. “It is you I see, Camborne. Not your title. I hope you know this.”

He rolled her under him so that he was atop her, but propped on his elbows so he would not crush her with the weight of his big body. “Ye’ve nothing to prove to me, Jocelyn. I know ye are sincere.”

Did this mean he trusted her?

“Out of curiosity,” she said, “what makes you so certain about me?”

He put his mouth to her neck and kissed her lightly. His breath was warm and the touch of his lips made her tingle. “Ye still haven’t asked me for anything.”

She frowned. “What did I need to ask you for when you’ve given me everything without my ever having to say a word? You’ve also insisted on paying for my parents, their room and meals at the inn, the doctor visits, and a carriage to take them back home once my mother is fit to travel. This is more than generous of you. I would not protest if you chose to take the expense out of my dowry. It is quite substantial, you know. Did my father tell you how much I bring to the marriage?”

He tensed. “Jocelyn, I dinna care. I dinna marry ye for yer dower fortune.”

“But not even to ask about it? It is fifty thousand pounds.”

An odd look came upon his face. “It does no’ matter. I dinna care if it is nothing.”

“But it matters to me. I did not come to you penniless,” she insisted, wondering at his expression. It did not make sense for him to dismiss this bounty. He had just accused her of having no interest in his wealth. But was he not doing the same?

Why should she be asking for an accounting of his assets when he cared nothing for hers? How was her attitude any different from his?

Bringing something to the marriage was a source of pride for her, especially since she had trapped him into marrying her. Not on purpose, of course. And he did not seem to mind being caught or feel that he’d been tricked.

But he seemed determined to avoid this dowry conversation altogether.

Well, they would sort it out later. Why talk when his naked body was atop her and making her feel amorous again?

There was much to be said for men in their forties. Camborne’s body was exquisite, a manly body—fully developed muscles and gloriously broad shoulders. Yet he was trim in the waist and firm in the legs.

His face was manly, as well. Solid jaw, well-defined angles, lips that had the power to possess her with their warmth and seductive strength.

He did not behave like a child, as many young bucks in their twenties did. Some behaved like spoiled children even into their thirties. But everything about Camborne spoke of honor and valor, intelligence and duty. He was experienced. No one was ever going to make a fool of him.

When she told him her thoughts, he rolled off her and fell onto his back laughing. “Lass, I am an idjit in so many ways, especially when it comes to women. Is it not obvious?”

“You’ve been wonderful to me,” she insisted.

He turned serious. “Ye’re going to hear a lot of scandalous things about me where women are involved, and they’re probably all true. But ye’re my wife, and the only one who will have to put up with me from now on. As for business affairs, I was never fleeced, and no one has ever made a fool of me. But I have made a fool of myself by purposely surrounding myself with the commoner element of Society. I consorted with ladies I knew would try to take advantage of me. I threw them bones—sometimes very nice bones. But no one ever got anything out of me that I dinna want to give.”

She wanted examples.

He resisted, at first. Finally, he told her a story or two about stupid things he had done recently. One misguided affair that concerned an actress and another that concerned an unhappily married countess. He refused to name either of the ladies involved. “This is in my past, Jocelyn.”

She understood this. She was not going to admonish him for actions taken when he was unattached.

In truth, she had stopped really listening the moment he said she was his wife and the only one who would have to put up with him.

Did this mean he was thinking of her as the only woman he would bed? Was he thinking of permanence?

She snuggled against him, embarrassed that she had yet to don her clothes. But she liked the warmth of his skin against hers, and loved the gentle way he touched her with his roughened hands.

He stopped talking and began to kiss his way down her body, her breasts, her stomach, and made his way lower.

This night was turning into something quite decadent. But there was something wonderful in the way he held her, as though he wanted her in his arms forever.

Yes, it was this feeling of forever that had her smiling. He made her feel safe and adored.

He also seemed to like her breasts very much. She liked the way he touched them and suckled them.

“Och, lass. Ye’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered after they had coupled again and both of them were tangled in each other’s arms.

The air around them was hot and filled with the scent of their coupling. It was a scent unique to them as husband and wife.

Well, she hoped it was. She did not like to think Camborne had shared this experience with other women. But he had, of course. This was his reputation.

She tried not to dwell on this fact. This was her wedding night.

“It is no’ the same, love,” he said, cutting through the silence.

She looked up at him, meeting his sharp, assessing gaze. “What isn’t the same? And how do you know what I am thinking?”

“Yer lips are puckered and yer brow is slightly furrowed. Yer expression is wistful and fretful, which means ye’re thinking too hard about what we’ve been doing and now wondering if I’ve felt the same with those others before ye. I haven’t. Ye canno’ keep comparing yerself to them. What we have is completely different, Jocelyn.”

“How is it different?”

She knew it was not the same thing because she was his wife. But was it different in a better way?

She was less experienced than his prior conquests. She had come to him as a stranger. He had been acquainted with those other ladies. Some of his casual liaisons had gone on over the course of years.

Did they perform the sexual act better than she did?

They must have, for she was a novice. Camborne had a lot to teach her.

“It is different in that none of them were mine to love and protect. Nor did I have any inclination to take them on as my responsibility. They belonged to others, and I preferred it that way. But ye…ye’re mine, Jocelyn. I mean to keep ye in my heart. I mean to keep ye safe and look after ye.”

“I do feel safe with you,” she said.

“I’m glad of it, lass.”

She fell asleep to the soothing strokes of his hand along her arm.

*

Jocelyn awoke in the morning to find herself alone in their bed.

Smothering her disappointment, she sat up and looked around. “There you are,” she said, smiling as she watched Camborne standing by the room’s small mirror hanging upon the wall, shaving. He must have quietly washed up, for his hair was wet and there were droplets of water on his arms.

She wanted to run her fingers through the thick chestnut curls that he’d brushed back to keep them off his face. He looked so handsome.

The air held the fresh scent of sandalwood and lather. He wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

He turned toward her, smiled, and then winked. “Morning, love. Did ye have a good sleep?”

She nodded, her heart already pounding because he looked so magnificent. “Yes. I slept quite soundly. What time is it?”

“Early still. Not quite seven o’clock. I dinna mean to wake ye.”

She yawned. “You didn’t. I’m usually an early riser too. But last night wore me out. Not that I am complaining, mind you. Last night was nice.”

He’d finished shaving and wiped the last of the lather off his chin, then strode to her side and sat beside her on the bed. “It was better than nice, sweetheart,” he said in a husky murmur, and kissed her softly on the lips. He smelled clean and male.

She had to wash up, too.

But he did not seem to care.

He gathered her in his arms and captured her mouth in a hungrier kiss. “Best ever,” he whispered, drawing away and proceeding to dress for the day.

She was disappointed that he did not return to their bed. Perhaps she was not all that enticing.

But he came to her side and kissed her again. “I canno’ get enough of ye, lass.”

“Mutual, Camborne.”

She had to be patient. They would enjoy each other again tonight.

“Lass, we’ll never get out of this bedchamber today if ye dinna stop looking at me that way.”

“How am I looking at you?” Which was a ridiculous question to ask, because they both knew she had been gawking at him, practically salivating as she watched him dress.

“The same way I’m feeling about ye, only I hide it better.” He sighed. “Ye’re the prettiest sight a man can look upon when he wakes for the day.”

She blushed.

“Gad,” he muttered. “I’m in danger of becoming a besotted husband. I had better head downstairs and have my coffee. Shall I order a bath for ye?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll have breakfast sent up for ye, too. Once ye’re ready, we can check on yer parents.”

Dear heaven.

She had been mooning over Camborne and not thinking about them at all this morning. What a dreadful daughter she was! But she had left her mother’s side yesterday knowing she was on the mend. Since her father had not come knocking at their door last night, she expected they had passed a quiet night and were likely still sleeping.

“Yes, that is a good plan,” she said.

Mercy. Mercy. Mercy. How could she forget all about her parents? In truth, Camborne had her so mindless with desire that she was in danger of forgetting her own name.

“Do you realize that in two hours we shall be married one full day?”

“Is that so?” He laughed. “Are ye going to give me a marriage report each morning, lass? Like a weather report? It is forecast to be raining and we have now been married three months and two days. I’m not likely ever to forget the day I married ye. Besides, it only happened yesterday. I’d have to be hopelessly foggy not to recall.”

Shaking his head and still laughing, he walked out and quietly shut the door behind him.

Jocelyn rubbed her hands along her face. “You are such a silly goose,” she chided herself.

Had he meant to make a jest of their marriage? Was she the only one who considered it significant? Waking up to each other this morning was something special, but he was going about his routine as though the day was like any other.

Jocelyn shook off the thought. She was fretting over nothing. Had he not held her in his arms last night and made her feel cherished?

Well, he probably made all his partners feel cherished. She was the latest in a long line of women.

No, not the latest. She was the last .

Or was she?