Awakening His Duchess (34 page)

She hated the uncertainty that plagued her. “It has been a
long time.”

His mouth worked as if he were trying to hide a smile. “Only
four nights ago but feels like an eternity.”

She let him misunderstand as he skimmed her nightgown up her
thighs. Her muscles tensed and the tightening around his eyes showed he was
aware of the change in her. He slid his hand under the material as he pressed
his lips to hers. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her thighs, dancing
dangerously close to her nether curls but switching directions each time he got
near.

“Trust me.” He moved to kiss her neck, finding the spot that
made her tense and go liquid at the same time. “I just want to feel your skin
against mine.”

Impatient with her nervousness she sat up and tossed off the
nightgown. The air was cool against her heated skin.

Beau reached behind her and slipped the half fallen ribbon
from her hair. As her curls brushed across her sensitized skin she shivered.
His hand lingered in her hair. “You are incredibly beautiful.”

Unable to stand the intensity of his gaze she looked down
and was caught watching as his manhood throbbed back to full staff.

He slid his hands over her curves, lifted the weight of her
breast in his hand, and kissed down the slope until his lips circled her
nipple. Lightning flared in her as he teased the tightened bud and then left it
standing at attention while he moved to offer the same succor to the other. Her
body thrummed with need, yet Beau was being slow and methodical—a far cry from
his earlier frantic urgency, but it was no less powerful as his fingers skimmed
over her and his lips followed.

He bent his head and nuzzled her breast. Then he traced a
silvery stretch mark. “These are from your pregnancies?”

She tensed, the pleasure folding under the certainty that he
was now seeing her flaws. She grabbed his wrist.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue along one of the lines.
She closed her eyes feeling exposed.

“I am glad of a path to follow.”

“It is not amusing, Beau.”

“Yvette, you are still beautiful, more beautiful than you
were as a girl. These lines do not detract but only show that you have lived
life and given much. Do you touch my scars and think how ugly they are?”

She popped her eyes open. She could hardly fault him for
doing to her what she had done to him. To survive lashings like he had took
more than good health. The mental fortitude and determination it had taken to
keep from letting his spirit be broken were enormous. More than most men
possessed. “I see how strong you were to withstand the whippings.”

“Do you think my thoughts are so different? Some of these
were from Etienne, were they not?”

“Most.”

He winced. “Truly you are too beautiful for a man like me.”

His words squeezed tight in her chest releasing something
she kept tight inside her. “Beau.”

He looked up at her and for a second she stared into his
blue eyes and lost her thoughts.

She needed him as she’d never needed before. His touch, his
long looks, and every press of his lips felt reverent.

He took her to places she’d never been without him. It was
if he knew her, knew her body, knew her fears, knew her heart and could lead
her and coax her back to experiencing life with all her being. For so long she
had been nothing but a drone living through each day, avoiding pain but
avoiding pleasure, too.

 
He kissed her
breasts, the valley between, across her stomach with special attention to the
dip of her naval. He pushed open her legs and kissed the inside of her thigh
until she was quivering with need and anticipation.

Sliding against her, he returned to kiss her mouth. And
there was something in feeling his hot skin against hers. She opened to him,
but he only rocked against her before following a different path down her neck,
across a shoulder and down her arm, until he licked the inside of her hip.

She shuddered from her head to her toes, and Beau chuckled
as he moved closer to her center. She’d call him on it later but not now as he
blew across her damp lower curls. Her hips twisted as anticipation built to a
mountain of need.

He touched his tongue to her most sensitive spot and she
thought she’d come off the bed. Then he did it again until her legs quivered
with each touch. The pleasure built and eased and built until she didn’t think
she could stand it anymore. She strained toward her climax, barely able to
tolerate the pleasure, so intense had it become. Then finally when she could
stand no more, her orgasm broke over her in powerful surges.

She cried out with the power and Beau covered her mouth with
his, muffling her shrieks. He thrust and his manhood filled her as she
throbbed. The moment was so perfect as if he were part of her yet the anchor
she needed to keep from flying away. She sucked on his tongue and marveled at
the power in that one little organ. He rocked into her as the sensations
returned and she shuddered to a second orgasm almost before the first had ebbed
away.

Beau jerked back and pressed his face into her breasts. He
groaned as he spilled his seed into the sheets.

Their heavy pants filled the room. When her breathing
lightened, she demanded, “Beau, why would you do that?”

He lifted his face off her chest and gave a little shrug.
“You said you don’t want more children.”

With that she was undone. The back of her nose tickled and
she could feel her eyes growing moist. “Do you not” —she swallowed past an
obstruction that came from nowhere— “want more?”

He tilted his head and squinted at her. “I want more, but
I’m not going to force you to bear more children. Etienne is enough.”

“You need not pull out. Next time.” For a second she
wondered if she was assuming too much, that there would be a next time.

“Be sure, Yvette. I don’t wish to be accused of forcing you
into bearing children who might bring you pain.”

His words stung. She seemed like a fishing boat caught in
the rising swells of a hurricane, her emotions twisted so haphazardly. One
minute rising up, the next plunging down into the trough. She reached for the
sheet to cover herself with. “You are not forcing me.”

That was it, he didn’t force her to any path. But when they
were younger she would have blamed him.

His brow furrowed and he glanced behind him where only half
of the bed was curtained. “I have to go or I’m going to be late for his
riding—are you crying?”

She shook her head, but at that moment the moisture spilled
over and a tear tracked down her temple into her hair.

He moved up beside her and cradled her to him. “Did I hurt
you?”

She shook her head again, turning her face into his shoulder
as she tried to halt her wayward emotions.

“What then?” he demanded, his voice tight.

“You make me believe I could be happy,” she whispered,
afraid to say it out loud for fear lightning would strike—not her—but Beau or
Etienne.

“Why couldn’t you be?” He stroked her hair back from her
face.

“I don’t believe it will last. Someone will be taken from
me.” Her words sounded pathetic. She tried to frame it better. “I do not trust
it will be so.”

He lifted her chin a little and stared into her eyes. “We
have both had some rough years. Don’t you think we deserve a year or two of
happiness?”

Perhaps he was warning her not to count on forever, but for
now, for a year or until his lungs gave out. She forced a lightness into her
voice that she didn’t feel. “Only a year or two?”

“Yes, because I shall likely get tired of you getting angry
with me for my occasional inconsideration. And you will be mad at me for
laughing at some inappropriate moment.” He winked as he talked, letting her
know he hadn’t missed her choler when he chuckled.

Her mouth twitched. It was like they’d stepped back in time
to when she couldn’t stay angry at him for long.

“Better now?” He brushed his lips across hers.

She nodded.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “We’ll be all right,
sugar.”

She nodded, afraid to agree out loud. They hadn’t exchanged
words of love, but perhaps they would in time. Perhaps now that he didn’t hate
her, he could love her again. And if she could remember how to open herself up
to the risk of being hurt, she could love him again.

His fingers closed around her breast, and the fires she
thought banked flared again. Beau pushed her down to the bed and smoothed his
hand across her stomach. “I don’t think I can ever have enough of you.”

She sucked in her breath, trying to flatten her belly.
“Beau, Etienne will be waiting.”

“You’re right. I am already late.” His eyes narrowed a bit
and he pressed a hard kiss on her lips. “We will continue this
discussion
tonight.
But for now, I should go to Etienne. Will you sleep longer?”

She shook her head. “I promised I would return to the
Fowlers.”

He nodded and moved off the bed. “I’ll ring for your maid.”

And just like that she regretted that she pushed him away
when she could have had him in her arms for another few minutes at least. But
there would be tonight and, God willing, the next night and the next.

In the process of pulling her nightgown over her head, she
paused. Neither the duke nor Henri had ever approved of her healing practices.
Did Beau? “You do not mind that I treat the tenants?”

He cocked his head. “It would be hypocritical of me to mind
if I expect the benefit of your knowledge when my lungs seize.”

Then he disappeared into his dressing room, and she wasn’t
quite certain if his acceptance harbored a bit of repugnance for what she did.

He popped his head out. “By the by, you need to have your
maid send for a modiste. You can’t keep dressing like a widow.”

Then he ducked away again, leaving her more unsettled.

 
*~*~*

Etienne kicked the post outside the stable block. Daisy was
saddled and his papa’s horse was saddled, but he’d been waiting forever.
Danvers said it was rude to keep one waiting. And neither Maman nor Papa had
showed up to tuck him in last night.

The big dark-skinned man had said they were with Thomas
who’d been badly hurt. Etienne knew who Thomas was, but he’d never been allowed
to play with the boys around the estate because they might play too rough.

The big black man strode toward them. Etienne felt as if a
stone had dropped down his throat and landed in his gullet. He didn’t entirely
trust Mazi. He’d seen so few men of dark skin in England, and the man reminded
him of the slaves back home. And he couldn’t think of the slaves without
remembering the night of the fires and the killings.

“You are not here to give me my riding lesson, are you?”
demanded Etienne.

Mazi gave him a surprised look. “Your papa is not here?” His
words hung in a puff of white in the air.

Soon it would be too cold and they would all shut themselves
in the castle for the wintertime. Etienne shook his head.

Mazi dropped to a crouch in front of him. “He must have been
very tired last night if he has overslept. But you do not want me to give you
riding lessons. Your papa says I ride like a sack of stones. You are likely a
better horseman than me. There aren’t any horses where I’m from.”

“Where are you from?”

“Africa,” answered Mazi.

“How do you get anywhere without horses?” Suspicion coursed
through Etienne.

“We walk.” Mazi’s voice was mild. “Would you like me to see
what is taking your papa so long?”

Etienne pressed his lips together then gave a short nod of
his head.

Mazi stood up and smiled. Behind them the grass crunched.
“Ah, here he comes now.”

Etienne twisted around and saw his papa—his English
papa—walking toward them. He thought maybe he should ask his papa if he should
tell his mother about seeing his father from Saint-Domingue.

He didn’t really understand how his maman could have two
husbands. Only he thought one of the slave women back home had had two husbands
too. Or maybe more. It was a grownup thing he didn’t care about, but not
telling his maman his other father was still alive when she was always so sad
everyone was dead seemed wrong.

His papa walked up to them with a big smile on his face.
“Sorry I kept you waiting, Etienne.”

He didn’t seem very sorry. Etienne narrowed his eyes, but
Papa didn’t notice.

Papa’s hand patted his head as if he were a kennel dog.
“Mazi.”

The dark man nodded. “Thought I’d go back out and work on
that trunk some more.”

“Feels good to work hard again.”

Mazi’s laugh rumbled in his chest.

It was a nice sound, as nice as a cat purring, but this was
supposed to be his time. He tugged on his father’s sleeve. “Papa.”

Papa’s hand dropped to his shoulder and he pulled him to his
side. “Or we might see if Donald and some of the others need help in the fields
to make up for the time they lost yesterday. With this weather, the harvest must
come in now. If you want to wait, I shall drive my wife over after I finish
with Etienne.”

“Can we go?” asked Etienne. “It’s cold.”

“I wonder if I was this impatient when I was his age,” said
Papa.

“All boys are impatient,” said Mazi.

“I am sorry, my friend. I have done nothing to arrange a
trip home for you.”

Mazi patted Papa on the shoulder. “It will wait. I have many
books yet to read.”

“Pa-pa.”

“Hush until I am done speaking with Mazi or there will be no
riding today.”

Etienne shifted from one foot to the other. It wasn’t fair.
They didn’t have lessons they had to go to. They could do as they pleased, but
he had to sit in a musty old school room and study dusty old books that no one
would read if they had a choice. And he wouldn’t get better enough to ride one
of the sleek fast horses on his own if he never got to ride slow, stupid Daisy.