Page 7 of Two Nights with the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #3)

J ocelyn stared at the bed she was about to share with Camborne for a second night.

The two of them had just come up from the common room after a late supper and a little dancing that she had quite enjoyed despite his still not having answered her question. In truth, it seemed he was purposely avoiding it.

Could he ever grow to love her? It hung between them once again as thick as a morning mist.

She had shaken off her disappointment earlier and accepted his reluctance to respond as merely a sign of his natural caution. Was it so surprising that he would be the last person in all of Scotland who would fall in love at first sight? Would it be so terrible if he took it slowly and fell in love with her day by day?

Having accepted that he was not going to answer her question had allowed her to enjoy their evening, which had turned into an unexpected and most pleasant surprise. The inn had brought in a couple of musicians, something they did with regularity, for a bit of midweek entertainment. It was a popular treat for the local patrons.

She had never danced with Camborne before, but one would never know it by the skillful way he led her about the makeshift dance floor. The mere touch of his hand to the small of her back had set her body tingling. Then he’d taken her in his arms and made her feel as though he wished to hold her forever.

Goodness, she enjoyed being in his embrace. Would he take her in his arms with similar warmth as they lay in bed tonight?

As she watched him begin to undress, her thoughts shifted back to the present and the one bed they would share. She understood his allure, for there was something quite masculine and exciting about the way he removed his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat, and then tossed them over a chair with casual precision.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, growing frenzied when he drew off his shirt to reveal his broad shoulders and honed, lean torso.

She watched the wondrous, undulating ripple of muscles along his arms as he sat upon the mattress to tug at his boots and remove them. “Lass, we have a big day ahead of us. Ye ought to ready yerself for bed.”

His taut stomach muscles rippled, too.

“Lass?” he repeated with a knowing grin. “Should ye not ready yerself for bed?”

Instead of stand here gawping at him?

She nodded, but could not draw her gaze from the arms that she found so fascinating. Most men in their forties had turned soft, but not Camborne. There was a hardness to him imbued in his body and in his soul. The wall of protection he had built over the years was not only meant to guard his heart, but it surrounded his entire being and controlled his every action. What other reason could there be for his never getting close to a woman other than to bed her? He chose the ones he could safely bed, and kept a distance from those suitable for marriage.

And yet he was determined to marry her.

He had joked that he might have proposed to her even if not forced to. Sadly, she did not think so. They would have parted ways, perhaps each regretful of what might have been. Well, she would have been regretful. He would have resumed his Silver Duke entertainments and eventually forgotten about her.

For her part, she would remember him to her dying breath.

Tingles shot through her as he returned to her side, his big, shirtless body achingly close as he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Jocelyn, are ye all right?”

She glanced at their bed, and then smiled up at him. “I enjoyed our dances.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned her smile with a tender one of his own. “So did I, lass.”

The air between them felt as intense as a bolt of lightning about to strike.

It had sizzled between them all night. She had felt spark after exciting spark as he twirled her around the dance floor, his hands confident as they slipped around her waist, or her shoulders, or entwined with her slender fingers as he guided her through the intricate steps.

All these years, she’d believed there was something wrong with her because she had never responded to any of the men who came forward to court her. Not a flutter. Not a tingle. Not a single butterfly flitting in her stomach.

Nothing at all.

It was not from lack of trying to like these men who had once wooed her. In those first years out, she had wanted to make a love match. As her family grew more impatient, she’d resolved to settle for something less than love. Kindness. Caring.

By year three, her standards had fallen to merely “tolerable.”

But how much less could she accept? As one Season turned into another, and everyone began to believe there was something wrong with her, her standards had lowered to the point of her accepting the next suitor who asked.

This was exactly what she had done to escape her situation. Unmarried. A spinster. The disappointment on the faces of her parents had become unbearable. But after halfheartedly accepting Ballantry’s proposal, she realized he was unbearable, too.

Hence the whispers confirming that she was a cold-hearted harpy. She had started to believe them, too.

Then it had all changed in the blink of an eye. This big Scot with his deep, growling brogue and those lovely threads of silver in his hair had startled her awake last night.

After all these years, she felt vindicated. She wasn’t cold and she wasn’t heartless. Was it not obvious that her heart had merely been waiting for Camborne to find her?

How different things would have been had she met him during her first Season. He might have offered for her. She would have accepted him with breathless anticipation. Mission accomplished. Married in her first year out. A love match, no less. Happily dreaming of building a life and a family with him in the ensuing years.

But fate had not been kind to her or Camborne, making them wait until now to find each other.

Well, she had found him . She was not certain what he thought of her.

Oh, he liked her. He even appeared inclined toward their having a more permanent arrangement after they married. But would he change his mind as he got to know her better? What if she disappointed him? There were no assurances he would commit to longer than a month in her company, or ever want to spend a lifetime with her, or sire children.

Still, she held out hope that he would make the effort to be a good husband.

“Jocelyn, shall I help ye out of yer gown?”

“What?” It took her a moment to shake out of her thoughts. “Oh, yes. Please.”

He moved to stand behind her to get at the tapes and lacings that ran along her spine.

Was this not a perfect ritual to experience every night? She felt the gentle strength in his touch as he intimately worked the fastenings, and then sighed as his warm breath blew against her neck when he leaned closer to access the last of them.

Was this what love felt like? This wonderful ache to have him touch her, hold her, and be near her? Yes, it had to be so.

Was there a doubt she was falling in love with this big, handsome Scot?

“There ye go. I’ll turn my back while ye slip it off.”

“Don’t.” She blushed and turned to look up at him. “I mean…you needn’t turn away. It isn’t necessary.”

Her voice was shaking and so were her hands.

He noticed and took them in his. “I noticed ye staring at the bed. I’ll no’ take ye before ye are my lawful wife, if that is what has ye trembling.”

Tingles shot through her as Camborne smiled at her.

Yes, she felt everything with him. Weakness in the legs. Tingles. Shivers of pleasure. Her heart fluttering. Butterflies flapping about in her stomach.

All this after only one night, about to become two nights, in his bed.

“You mistake my meaning. I do not need to wait until tomorrow to give myself to you. I can hardly manage waiting another minute.” She gasped. “Oh, I just said that aloud, didn’t I?”

He chuckled. “Aye.”

She gave a determined nod. “I meant it. I’ve never felt safer with anyone than I have with you. Nor have I ever felt anything in the way of passion or desire until I met you. This attraction is something I’ve only read about in those books with wicked titles that unmarried ladies are warned never to read. Of course, I could not wait to get my hands on them and devour them. The naughtier the hero, the better. These books are like eating grapes, popping them into my mouth, one after the other, until the entire bunch is consumed.”

He chuckled again.

“Have you ever taken a woman against a wall, Camborne?”

He choked on his laughter. “Lass! That is not a proper question to ask me.”

“You have done it! I knew it!” Her heart melted a little more because he was blushing and genuinely seemed appalled. But this intrigued her all the more. So, it was a naughty thing to do, and he had done it. She wanted to try it, too. Only with him, of course. “I wasn’t certain how it would work. How are we each positioned? Would it be awkward? Oh, you are laughing at me now. Do not laugh at me, Camborne.”

“I’m not laughing, lass,” he said with a broad grin and a rakish gleam in his eyes as he drew her closer. “Ye’re serious?”

She nodded.

“I dinna think ye understand what ye are getting into, especially untried as ye are.” He gave her a featherlight kiss on the forehead that felt like a dismissal of her request.

She held him back when he started to draw away, and then led him to the wall. “Do I lean against it like this?” she asked, staring up at him.

He groaned. “Och, lass. Ye’re torturing me.”

“Camborne, you are torturing yourself. I am right here, curious and willing. Show me what is so special about it, because I do not see what all the fuss is about. It is just a wall, and I’m merely leaning against it.”

But her heart fluttered as he suddenly placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her between his arms. “All right, but ye’ll tell me if ye change yer mind.”

She was not going to change her mind.

He was standing close, leaning into her so that she could feel his body heat. Her own smoldering body caught fire. Absolute, torches-blazing heat.

“I love the shape of your mouth,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as he ran his hands along her body and ignited more of those lightning sparks she had been feeling all evening. There was a confidence in his touch and a promise of thrills that had her heart pounding rapidly.

The look in his eyes was exciting and dangerous. Did he mean to claim her tonight?

Please. Yes.

She could not wait for it to happen. Not merely a few kisses against the wall. She wanted everything .

He eyed her as though he were a ravenous lion about to subdue his tender prey. She was so ready to surrender to his soft touches and tender kisses. He even moved with a predatory grace. She felt his feral desire.

“I love the shape of yers, too.” He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. He had the most seductive eyes, turned slightly downward at the corners and holding the promise of pleasure. “Such lovely lips, lass.”

“Will you kiss me, Camborne?”

“Aye, I’ll kiss ye, my sweet lass. I’ll kiss ye hard and I’ll kiss ye breathless, and then I’ll kiss ye some more.” He crushed his mouth to hers and soon had her wrapped in scorching heat, an inferno that melted her bones and had her heart beating wildly through her ears, beating just for him.

He must have known this would happen.

Of course he had. He had all this knowledge and so much confidence from his years of experience.

Yet he made her feel desired, as though this moment was as new and exquisite for him as it was for her.

He had earlier loosened her gown and now gave it a light tug to slide it down her body. The delicate fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her wearing only her chemise. While the thrifty part of her meant to carefully set the gown aside, the hungry part of her tossed all logical thought aside while Camborne plundered her mouth and skillfully set her ablaze.

Would he fully undress her now?

She felt the heat of his hands as he stroked along the bare skin of her shoulders, waiting for him to remove this final garment. Aching for it to happen. But she realized he would not do it all at once. No doubt, he thought she needed to be slowly introduced to intimacy.

She wriggled against him, thinking to take it off herself, but he stopped her. “No, lass. Let me show ye,” he said, then suddenly lifted her up against him so that her thinly draped bosom met the hard wall of his bare chest.

She gasped. Her fire intensified.

“Ye’re so soft and glorious,” he whispered raggedly, pressing up against her so that she was shockingly caught between him and the wall.

Deliciously trapped, for their bodies were intimately positioned, and nothing of their responses to each other could be overlooked. His skin felt hot and his eyes were fiery embers.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“Hush, lass. Be patient. This is for yer pleasure.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her more securely to the wall with the weight of his muscled body pressed against her. It was a light crush, meant to make her feel him but not inhibit her movements in response.

Oh, this was so exciting. To actually have this lovely ravishment happening to her, to no longer wonder what all the fuss was about… Oh, the delicious delight.

She gasped as his roughened fingers slid up her thigh. Camborne knew just how to inflame her senses.

Her brain was in a frenzy of new sensations. She took in every detail of his magnificent form, the tenderness of his touch, and the sensuality of his voice.

His skin held the scent of musk, an irresistible essence that had her mindless and wanting to lick her tongue along his neck because she needed to taste him as well as breathe him in.

But now he was licking hers, starting with a light suckle…and now untying the sweet little bow at the front of her chemise to loosen it and—

She almost shot up the wall as his mouth closed over the bud of her breast and he began to suckle it. “Camborne!” She grabbed his hair and twisted its soft waves within her fingers. “Camborne,” she repeated, straining to manage a complete sentence because he had her panting. Actually panting . How long had it taken him to get her into this aroused state? A minute? Even less?

“Is this not better done in bed?”

He gave her breast a soft lick before easing away to glance up at her. “No, lass. I’ll take ye completely if we’re in bed.”

Was that a bad thing?

Please, please, please.

“I am not afraid of your touching me.” She sighed. “In fact, I thought I made it clear that I would not mind, um…”

He grinned. “Mind what, lass?”

“Do not be cruel and tease me. You know…doing that . All of that . Because I’ve never done any of that before, and you already have me half naked. And we will be married tomorrow, so it really should not count as sinful, should it?”

“We’ll see, lass.”

“We’ll see?”

“Aye, Jocelyn.”

“Oh, I understand. You first want to give me a sample of what I read in my book, of having your way with me against the wall. I am most grateful. And then are we to move on to doing more? But first, the wall…since I mentioned it…and I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t curious.”

“Do ye want me to carry ye to the bed, lass?”

“No, I’m content right here. I just do not want it to be the only thing you teach me tonight. But wanting to… you know . Is it too brazen of me? Do you disapprove? After all, I’ve only known you for two days.”

“I dinna disapprove. I am ever yer servant.”

“Ready to attend to my every need?”

His gaze turned steamy. “Aye, lass. Even the needs ye never knew ye had.”

Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Such as?”

“I’ll show ye. Will ye let me get back to what I was doing before ye distracted me with yer comments?”

She nodded.

He lifted her so that she was once again pinned against the wall but now had her arms gripping his shoulders and her legs positioned around his hips. She felt him against her and wasn’t certain whether to move as he took the tip of her breast into his mouth once more and slid his hand up her thigh to seek her most intimate spot.

She shot up the wall again, but he took no mercy on her this time, holding her about the waist and bracing her against the wall in such a recklessly erotic fashion that she could never, ever look at another wall again without blushing. His fingers delved inside her in gentle strokes and she was soon liquid, all of her awash in sensation.

She did not know how he managed to hold her up while at the same time arousing her with the magical strokes of his fingers and soft licks of his tongue, but he had her braced securely as he completely engulfed her in fiery passion.

A powerful surge built up inside of her, a storm of emotion about to unleash, but her thoughts were of him and how he was pleasuring her and not taking this same pleasure for himself.

Did he mean to wait until they were married to fully claim her? That was the honorable sort of thing this big Scot would do. She hardly knew him, and yet she understood him and adored him.

But she thought no more about it, for his touch was exquisitely scorching and she felt an inferno surround her, swallow her whole. She cried out softly, unable to stop herself from coming undone.

He sensed it and knew it, too. “Och, love. Dinna hold back.”

She cried out again as he intensified his onslaught, his tongue and fingers working her body without mercy.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice ragged as he sought to control his own body’s response to their intimacy. “Let yerself go, Jocelyn. Dinna fight the feeling, my sweet, sweet lass.”

She tried to assure him that she wasn’t holding back a thing, but her breaths were coming too quickly now and she could not speak a word as stars exploded all around her and she felt herself soaring among them.

He covered her mouth with his as she yielded completely, his kiss fiercely tender while he absorbed her soft purrs and shudders of ecstasy. She understood it now, this power of intimacy when coupled with caring…and perhaps the incipient seeds of love.

He kissed her until her breathless moans subsided.

And then kissed her some more.

Only once she had recovered did he carry her over to the bed and collapse half atop her with a grunt. Laughing, he rolled onto his back beside her. “That was spectacular, lass. I think I threw my back out.”

“Oh, no!” She propped herself on one elbow to study him. “You should have told me.”

“Och, never. I’m only jesting, sweetheart. Even if I weren’t, it would no’ have stopped me. Men are idjits that way. How do ye feel?”

She glanced at the wall as though there ought to be a mark to commemorate the historic event, but there was nothing but a lovely floral wallpaper adorning it. However, the encounter would live on in her memory, his every touch vivid in its sensuality and seared into her heart. “I feel wonderful. Thank you for the experience. But you made it all about me and nothing for you.”

“Ye gave me plenty, lass. Believe me when I say the pleasure was all mine.” He arched an eyebrow and cast her a rakish smile. “Was it better than in yer books?”

She returned his conquering smile with a gentle one of her own. “Much, much better. I had no idea this wantonness was inside me all along. But I do not think anyone else could have brought it out in me,” she said in all seriousness.

He took her hand and drew it to his lips to press a kiss upon her palm. “Ye know it was meaningful for me, too.”

“Truly? Even with all your experience?”

“Aye, lass. There’s a difference between satisfying one’s needs and satisfying one’s heart.”

She sat up and rolled to her knees on the mattress so that she now sat beside him and could look upon him as he lay contentedly stretched crosswise atop the bed. “Then it wasn’t merely a need for you?”

He gave a hearty chortle. “If I was only thinking of my needs, I would have taken ye here on the soft mattress and not heaved ye up against the wall. I’m sure I pulled a tendon or two while attempting to satisfy ye.”

“Oh, you really did hurt yourself,” she said, now distressed that her pleasure had caused him this discomfort.

“Och, no. Jocelyn, I would no’ have traded this moment for the world.”

“Nor I,” she admitted. “The passages in those books I read did not do the act justice. I was not certain what to expect and was obviously unprepared for the thrill you provided.”

“Words are important and have their place in learning, but nothing teaches better than life experience. Ye are obviously book smart, but lacking in any real experiences.”

She nodded. “Woefully lacking, it seems. But I am eager to learn, if you will teach me.”

“Aye, once we are married I’ll teach ye all I know. Not only about the bedchamber, for I think ye’ve been a bit sheltered about many things. Not yer fault, lass. Yer parents wanted to protect ye from the difficulties of life. Ye need to be more aware, but I’m not going to tell ye everything.”

“Why not?”

“Because ye’re compassionate and some of what exists out there will break yer heart. Ye’re to be my wife. Will I not be taking a vow to love and protect ye? I’ll no’ do anything disrespectful to ye or to ever cause ye pain.”

Her eyes widened. “Such as what?”

“It does no’ matter. My point is, ye’re in good hands with me. Ye’re in safe hands with me. I’ll teach ye whatever ye wish, but for one exception. I’ll never teach ye anything that might hurt ye.”

Her heart beat faster. “Does this refer to general knowledge of the world or knowledge of the bedchamber?”

He drew her down atop him and wrapped his arms around her. “Both, lass.”

“Will you kiss me again, Camborne? Or are you too sore now?”

“For kisses? Never too sore for those.” His expression softened as he traced his thumb gently along her lower lip. “Kissing ye is a pleasure.”

He pressed his lips softly to hers as he rolled her under him and lifted onto his elbows so that he did not press the full weight of himself atop her. Not that she would have minded, for there was something wonderfully stirring about his big, muscled body, and the way the two of them fit perfectly to each other despite their obvious differences.

His shoulders were broad, while hers were small. He was lean and hard, while she was not very big at all, although she was amply bosomed and had typical womanly curves. His legs were long, muscled, and powerful. Hers were well proportioned and firm, since she was active and tended to do a lot of walking daily, but they were more slender than muscled.

Still, they were perfectly suited to each other.

“Camborne…”

“Aye, Jocelyn?” He gave her a whisper-soft kiss. “What is it, my lovely lass?”

Her heart pounded as she worked up the courage to reveal her aching wish. “Make me your wife tonight.”

He inhaled lightly and then his sharp, assessing gaze fixed upon her face. “Ye know I ache for it, but are ye certain?”

“Never more certain of anything in my life,” she said softly. “If things go horribly wrong tomorrow, then I will always have the recollection of us as we are tonight.”

He frowned. “I am marrying ye in the morning, Jocelyn. Nothing will stop me from protecting ye.”

“I know, and you will accuse me of needlessly fretting again. But I’m not… Well, I’m not fretting very much. I ask this because it is pointless to wait another night when my heart has already accepted you. It has, Camborne. I am not going to pretend otherwise.”

He appeared troubled by her admission.

Was it because he wanted to remain respectful of her innocence, since she was a lady? How could he still think of her as a lady after her brazen behavior against the wall? Not quite the gentle, coaxing way he intended to initiate her into intimacy, was it?

But she was well beyond any shyness now. She had wished for this day to arrive for years already. Perhaps gentleness and a slow approach were necessary when she had been a shy girl making her Society debut. But now that she was all of twenty-seven and still untried? She wanted it all with Camborne and had no intention of waiting another hour, much less an entire day.

Or had his own pleasure merely been a pretense? Did he not find her attractive?

She did not think he was feigning his own desire, but how was she to know? He had gained his reputation as a Silver Duke because he knew how to make love to a woman. By natural extension, he could easily make that woman feel adored by him, even if he did not feel all that passionately about her.

“Camborne, am I pleasing to look at?”

He laughed. “Are ye jesting? Ye’re so lovely, ye make my heart sing every time I look at ye. Why ask me that?”

“Because you seem reluctant to claim me. I thought you would leap at the chance, but it does not appear to delight you at all.”

Perhaps he was not ready to allow their hearts to be involved yet. He had told her that she was not like the other women he had seduced, for none of them had been virgins. To him, this meant he could not bed her and afterward walk away. Was this the reason for his reluctance? In his mind, he had committed to be her husband. But in his heart…he had not made that commitment yet.

The knowledge hurt, for her heart had accepted him already.

She began to fashion the ribbon at the front of her chemise in a bow, but he sat up and stopped her. “Leave it, lass,” he said, his voice a deep rumble and his brogue as thick as the air that surrounded them. “I’ll have the garment off ye in a minute anyway, so dinna bother to tie it.”

She had worried that she did not have any of his heart.

But she had never felt more loved than when he blew out the candle that softly illuminated the room in a golden glow and reached out for her in the darkness to take her in his arms. The gentleness of his touch had her almost in tears.

However, it was not long before all thought fled and he had her mindless and surrendering to passion as he made her body thrum and throb, as her insides melted and she turned boneless…as he entered her and claimed her for his own.

She came undone again, the stars exploding with even greater force than before.

Only then did he take his release.

It was thrilling, exciting beyond words, but also messier than she realized it would be. He had withdrawn just as he reached the heights of his arousal.

She understood what this meant…he would marry her, but he had not yet decided about having children with her.

She did not let this sadden her, for the moment was exquisite in every other way.

“Stay in my arms, my lovely lass,” he said with tenderness once they were both sated and he had cleaned her off with gentle care. He had even taken a moment to pick her gown up off the floor and carefully drape it over a chair before returning to their bed and drawing her close. “Sleep in my arms tonight, Jocelyn.”

He said this for her sake, somehow knowing she needed to hold on to the wonder of their connection this first night when she had given all of herself to him.

This was how she fell asleep, lost in the warmth and strength of his arms.

This was what she hoped her future would be.

How could anything be more perfect?

But would Camborne feel the same? Or would he tire of her before the month was out?