Her Mystery Duke (22 page)

“You may keep your ink stains and write in your bare hands.”

At his magnanimous tone, she glanced back at him. “How
gracious of you.”

He grinned.

Her heart fluttered. “So if writing in gloves is not a rule
then would your rules for me be?”

“You would live in the little house.”

“Little house?” She laughed with a catch in her voice. “You
told me it has five bedchambers, not counting the servant’s quarters in the
attic.”

“It is the smallest house I own.”

“Oh.”

“You must always treat me with respect and speak to me in
polite tones. I expect you to reserve your Wednesdays and Saturdays for me
alone. You are not to engage in any activities on those days that will distract
you or fatigue you. I shall visit you in the afternoons, between noon and four.
I will try to let you know more specifically each Wednesday and Saturday
morning. When you are expecting me, you will always bathe, you will use the
scented oils I prescribe.

He lifted the tresses off her shoulders and let them slide
through his fingers. “And you will leave your lovely hair loose. You will not
dress afterwards except for the blue silk wrapper I put in the wardrobe for
you. You will wait for me in that manner.”

Her mouth dropped open and she glanced over her shoulder at
him. “You would expect me to wait around all day for your arrival?”

He returned her stare evenly. “It will be your pleasure to
do so.”

She could imagine that. Bathing herself. Preparing for him.
Waiting for him. Longing for his arrival. A whole day set aside for sensual
decadence. A whole day set aside for his pleasure. And hers.

She’d be dripping wet by the time he arrived.

She was becoming soaked now.

 
Her breath was
coming harder and faster. She felt a bit lightheaded. “Don’t think I haven’t
noticed your change in tense. You are speaking as though we were already
negotiating the matter.”

“Aren’t we?” His voice sounded a bit hoarser now.

Increased wetness trickled onto her intimate folds. Her nub
began to tingle. It would be so very easy to say yes. Just right at this
moment. God, she was about ready to beg him to actually spank her. Now. Just to
see if it would be as thrilling as her rising anticipation indicated. She had
adored when he had spanked her the night they went to the opera. She had flown
so high with him. Now he wanted…more.

What if she accepted more and found it was too much?

She shook herself. “I thought we were just talking.”

He moved his hand under her body and cupped the underside of
her breast. His fingers splaying upwards to brush her nipple. It immediately
sharpened into a peak. “You wanted to know what my rules would be, remember?”

“‘Would be’ is the key phrase there.”

“No matter how much you find yourself aroused by the memory
of our talk today, you cannot touch yourself intimately tonight in your bed.”

“Now that’s just silly.”

“You shall save your carnality solely for me.” He put his
mouth to her neck, open, wet, and warm, kissing, suckling on her flesh for a
moment.

“And you?” The sparks of pleasure cascading down her spine
made it hard to speak.

“I do as I please,” he said.

“As you please?”

“Yes, and for now it pleases me to save my carnality for
you.”

Her nub became rigid. Aching. The trickle of wetness over
her folds became more of a flow. Illogical, yes. But she couldn’t deny her
arousal. A moan of pure longing arose in her throat. It took all her effort to
keep it swallowed back.

“Tomorrow is Wednesday.”

“So it is.” Her voice had become shaky, for his hand was now
sliding upwards along her thigh.

“Let’s say I shall visit you. Probably between two and three.”
He reached her cunt, his breath caught, telling Jeanne that he felt her
wetness.

Unable to stop herself, she arched into his touch. His two
fingers entered her. He thrust them with deft, sure movements. Sparks of
delight shot through her. A moan tore from her throat. He quickened his pace.
Heavens, she was peaking so fast—

“I definitely shall visit.” He withdrew his fingers.

She gasped. “David!”

He leaned away from her and stuffed his shirttails into his
pantaloons and then refastened his fall. “What do you say, Jeanne? Yes or no?”

Dressed again, he knelt in front of her, took her hand.
“It’s just a game, Jeanne, something to heighten our pleasure.”

“Yes, a game.” She shifted to her back and crossed her legs
to ease the dull ache in her loins.

“You enjoyed the game the times we’ve played.”

“But you’re pushing me now.”

“I am, but if you truly do not want this, then we can simply
be a duke and his lovely mistress.” He bent and kissed her hands.

She felt a less pressured and allowed a small smile. “If I did
want to play, what about the times when I didn’t feel like playing?”

“Then you would simply tell me that you want a ‘sea change’
as I told you before.”

“A sea change?”

“Yes, exactly like that.”

“You make it all sound so simple.”

“It is very simple.”

“I want a sea change.” She opened her legs. “Right now.”

His gaze dropped to her apex.

“Be kind to me, David.”

He slipped his hand upward along her thigh. “I fear it’s all
too easy to be kind to you.”

He brushed his fingers over her erect nub. Just the right
amount of pressure. She moaned. She wanted to close her eyes but he was gazing
at her, tenderness making his eyes burn bright emerald. He leaned closer and
put his lips to her ear. “I could love you, Jeanne, I think I could love you so
easily.”

Such a frightening statement that should be, yet with his
lips against her ear and his fingers taking her to heavenly heights, it all
just seemed part of some lovely dream.

A game, as he had said. A game he was willing to end the
instant she no longer wanted to play. He was proving that to her right now.

Moments passed and she cried out as swift, sweet pleasure
claimed her.

He sat beside her and stroked her back. “Were you ever
spanked as punishment by your father when a child?”

“David, please.”

“I must know what kinds of memories it would bring up for
you. If it were too traumatic, we can’t play like this. I don’t think so.”

“My father was gentlest of fathers until he went completely
insane.”

“What happened when he went completely insane?”

“He would rant and rave at me. Screaming at me sometimes. He
accused me of all sorts of terrible betrayals. He…he would say that I had hurt
his feelings and that he couldn’t bear the pain of it. He would attempt to harm
himself then and I would have to stop him. I had to sleep with practically one
eye open. Then one day he completely broke down. He accused me of planning to
murder him and he came at me with a knife.”

He tightened his hands on her. “My darling, don’t dwell on
it now.”

But once started, she couldn’t stop the flow of words. “Oh,
he didn’t mean it. But then he had to be committed. And then it was a very,
very long time before I could sleep at night.”

“You still sleep lightly.” He caressed her back. “It is one
reason I want to take care of you. I want to protect you and make you feel safe
again.” He paused. “Having experienced such a trauma at the hands of your
father, it didn’t bother you to be bound by me? To be helpless to my will?”

A thrill raced through her, chasing away the sadness of
their topic. It brought a smile to her lips. “It was the most exhilarating
thing I have ever experienced. You knew that.”

“You must always be open and let me know your desires.”

She felt the dichotomy of feeling perfectly safe with him
yet able to breathtaking fear that he might actually spank her. “I don’t
understand it completely myself. I simply trusted you.”

He kissed her nape. “You trusted me because we were meant to
meet. I was meant to be your protector.”

Her heart swelled within her chest. Something twisted and
melted within her. She became so full of warmth and affection that she pressed
her face into the crook where his neck met his shoulder. She wanted to please
him, in all ways. “I’ll play your games, David. For now.”

She whispered the words into his shoulder, so low she wasn’t
sure he’d heard.

Until he pressed his lips to the top of her head. And called
her
my love
.

Chapter Ten

Jeanne ran upstairs, down the corridor and into the nearest
chamber. Mid-morning sun reflected on yellow and cream striped walls. A mellow,
cheerful effect. Jeanne felt anything but mellow. She’d thought this would be
another bedchamber but it wasn’t. The walls were lined with empty bookshelves
and a piano stood off to the left. A dark green rug covered the center of the
chamber. A large window dominated the south-facing wall and had a window seat
with a dark velvet green cushion. On shaking legs, she hurried over to it and
sank into its softness. She bent her head and covered her face with her hands.

She was overcome.

Simply overcome.

David generosity…

Burning pressure in her throat threatened to choke her and
her vision grew a bit blurry. She swallowed, hard.

Yes, she’d lived in a house during the years her mother
lived. And this house was so much larger. But it wasn’t just a house. It was a
carefully decorated and furnished jewel of a home.

The other night, she hadn’t appreciated what he’d been
offering her. He was offering her a whole way of living. If she spent much time
here, how would she ever return to her dank, depressing garret?

A knock sounded.

The housekeeper must have followed her.

“Yes, Mrs. Wilson?” She tried to clear the lingering lump in
her throat. “Enter.”

The door opened and a short, plump woman came in carrying a
tray with a decanter and a wine glass. “I thought maybe you could use a
refreshment.”

Despite her state of agitation, a smile twitched at Jeanne’s
lips. A refreshment? Was that how having a strong drink before noon was
described in David’s world? Apparently the housekeeper of a wealthy man’s
mistress was trained to always be polite, discreet.

Mrs. Wilson sat the tray down on the cushion beside Jeanne.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. It looks lovely.”

“Very good, Miss.” The housekeeper hurried from the chamber.

Jeanne poured herself half a glass of wine. She took a sip.
It wasn’t just any wine. Of course. It was rich, fine claret, very much like
the wine she’d had at David’s house. She put the glass down on the tray and
then ran a caressing hand over the velvet nap of the cushion. Goodness, she’d
wager no one else had ever sat here. That was how crisp and new it felt.

She began to breathe very quickly. So quickly that she began
to feel she couldn’t draw a good, deep breath. She put her hand to her throat.

Take control over
yourself.

Yes, the air was very heady in this whole house. She had to
get out of here. Just for a while. She turned and glanced out the window.
Sunlight glared off snow, yet she could see the built-up area where perhaps a
vegetable or flower garden existed in the spring and the rose trestles that
stood nearby.

A garden.

Yes, she’d go out and spend time in the—
her
garden!

She jumped to her feet and went to the wardrobe in the
bedchamber. Her trunk sat open and empty. But when she went to look for her
clothes, they were nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Wilson must have already…what?
Thrown then out? Burned them as rubbish?

A deep sense of loss hit her. A feeling of being alone here
with no familiar things. However, hanging in the wardrobe were many day dresses,
much like the one David had provided her at his home. On a hook hung a dark
blue silk robe.

She caught her breath. A thrill of sudden, swift desire
tingled all along her nerves.

She had to leave here. Just for a while.

There were two wraps. One was the elegant dark blue velvet
cloak from their night at the Opera House. And one was a lighter blue pelisse,
lined and trimmed in white fur.

She would have rather had her old, friendly, plain gray
pelisse, just for now. Did that seem ungrateful? Well, she only meant until she
became a little more used to such luxury. But her old pelisse had been left
behind at David’s grand house in Mayfair. Likely Mrs. Alligood had burned the
threadbare, well-mended garment for fear of vermin. Jeanne pulled on the blue
pelisse, grabbed the first book she came across in her trunk, and went
downstairs.

The cold air in the yard was refreshing and she found a
stone bench. She sat and let herself escape into one of her favorite stories,
one she’d read many times.

* * * *

“Good afternoon, Jeanne.”

Jeanne startled and let the wind close the door behind her
with a slam. David sat in the kitchen, sitting at the large oak worktable,
drinking from a steaming mug.

It was three already. Goodness, how she’d lost track of
time! She put her hand to her wind-mussed hair and tried to smooth it. “I’ll
just need a few moments to tidy myself.”

He smiled slightly. “Jeanne, we had an agreement, an
understanding.”

“So we did. It is the first day. I simply lost track of
time. I shall only take a moment.”

He stood and walked over to her. As he approached, her palms
slicked and her mouth dried. He took her hand and caressed the suede on her
gloves. “I see you found the new gloves and the pelisse.”

“Yes.” She could barely speak, so dry was her throat.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes, very much. But why did Mrs. Wilson throw out my old
things?”

“I instructed her to put them away. They are in the attic. I
didn’t want you to have any excuse to deny yourself the pleasure of wearing the
new items.”