The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables Book 2) (22 page)

“Not much. But I guess we have that in common.” She licked at his nipple. “
Duke of Daring
.” She closed her mouth over him, and he groaned. He twisted his hands in her glorious hair.

“Lucy, I’m ready.” He was more than ready.

“Not yet.” She inched back and skimmed her hand down the plane of his stomach until she found his shaft. “I haven’t done
anything
to this yet. What do you call it? My friend Ivy says that men have names for them.”

Good God, they discussed this sort of thing? “It’s just my, uh, cock.”

“Right. Cock.” The word tumbling from her mouth elicited another groan from him. Or maybe it was that her hand had closed around the base and was squeezing him gently. “Am I doing this right?”

“God, yes. You can…move your hand. If you like.” He prayed that she would like.

“Show me.”

His hand closed over hers, and he demonstrated how to stroke him. She picked up the motion easily and applied a natural pressure that made his balls tighten. “Lucy, you are a bloody gift.”

“Hmm. There’s liquid. Can I taste it? Never mind, I’m fairly certain that falls in the category of things I can do.”

“It’s probably at the top, actually.”

“I see.” She dropped her head and put her mouth on him, and he was quite hopelessly lost.

She suckled him gently, her hand still wrapped around him, but then she moved her mouth as she’d moved her hand, and within seconds, he feared he might come.

“Lucy, I don’t think I’m going to be able to put myself inside you. Not now. I’m going to…”
Hell
. She drew him deep into her mouth and sucked while her fingers squeezed him.

His hips moved then; he couldn’t help himself. He pulsed into her, his orgasm building. She released him and pulled him deep again, and he was done. He pumped into her mouth, his seed exploding forth. “Lucy!”

She didn’t let him go but kept him inside of her until he was finished.

He shouted and yelled and made an absolute bloody racket until he was completely spent. He wanted nothing more than to collapse beside her and take her into his arms.

She sat back, releasing him and wiping her hand over her mouth. She looked uncertain, but also…satisfied. A sheen of pleasure glazed her eyes. “Was that…all right? I don’t know if that was normal…” She looked away.

“Lucy, that
wasn’t
normal. It was spectacular. I can’t imagine how you knew to do that, but I don’t like to question such gifts.”

She blushed as she returned her gaze to his. “Well, then I shall take that as a compliment.”

“Please do.” He kissed her hard and deep and long, holding her tight against him and then falling onto the bed with her clutched to his chest.

When they pulled apart, she laughed. “What about the other . . . act?”

“Not tonight,” he said. “We haven’t even had dinner. I asked Tindall to bring it up later.” He looked at the clock on the mantel and realized it was probably nearing that time. “We should get dressed.”

She made a face. “I don’t want to go through all that just yet. Can’t I wear something of yours if we’re eating in here?”

The thought of her donning one of his dressing gowns as her dinner costume was an alluring image. “Absolutely.” Common sense, which had been in rather short supply, battered at the back of his mind. “You need to get back to London before you’re missed.”

“I can send a note to Aquilla. She’ll make an excuse for me with my grandmother.” She traced her finger along his forehead, gently touching his cut. “Anyway, I’d rather stay here and look after you, if that’s all right.”

The idea of having her here was tempting, yet also frightening. He hadn’t had a visitor here ever. After his family had died, he’d lived here alone with the staff. He’d spent a good deal of his time at school and then in London. This was his home, but it didn’t feel like home. Because he didn’t want it to. Home was his family, and they were gone.

He closed his eyes briefly as despair pulled at the edges of his mind. He opened his eyes to see her watching him.

“What is it?” she asked. “You look upset.”

He didn’t want to talk about it. “You can stay.” His answer surprised him.

“What about your retainers?”

“I don’t have many, and they’ll keep your presence a secret.”

She studied him, her brows dipped over her eyes with concern. She smoothed her fingertips along his forehead and drew her hand down the side of his face before kissing him softly. “All right.”

“We’ll dispatch your note shortly and see to your coach and driver, after I get you something to wear.” He started to pull away, but she clasped his shoulders.
 

She looked into his eyes. “Kiss me again first.”

“You’re a demanding woman.”

She arched a brow as if to silently ask if this was a problem. It was absolutely not. His lips curved up before they met hers.
 

This was an unprecedented day, and he was going to do his best not to think about why.

Chapter Twelve

L
ucy finished the last of her dinner, surprised at the quantity of food she’d eaten, but then she’d been ravenous. It had been a long day full of astonishing events. She looked over the table at Andrew. He’d donned his shirt and a pair of trousers, but she could barely call him “dressed,” with his bare feet and a goodly expanse of his magnificent chest exposed. She had no intention of complaining.

“How’s your head?” she asked.

“It aches, but the tonic seemed to help a great deal. I should take another dose.” He fetched the bottle from near the bed and returned to where Tindall had set up their meal on a small table in front of the hearth. Andrew brushed a kiss against her temple as he passed her. “Or mayhap it’s all due to you and your healing powers.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “If anything, I’ll cause you more harm than good.”

He sat down opposite her and grinned. “Never.”

She thought about what they’d done earlier—it weighed heavy on her mind for so many reasons—and wasn’t sure if he wanted to repeat the activity. Or take it further. “You truly wish me to stay?” She’d already written a note to Aquilla, and it was at least halfway to London by now.

“I do.” He sipped his wine. “Tell me why you’re a wallflower. I don’t understand it one bit.”

She blinked at him, thinking him mad, then laughed. “I’m not conventionally beautiful.” She held up her hand. “You can’t argue with me. I didn’t say I wasn’t beautiful—you’re entitled to your opinion. However, I am neither blond nor blue-eyed nor am I adorned with especially feminine curves.” She felt odd describing herself that way now. After being with him, she did indeed feel desirable. “Plus, I don’t like feminine things such as needlepoint or singing or tittering.”

He laughed. “Tittering? Were you taught that as part of your comportment?”

“No, which is probably why I fail.” She smiled at him, enjoying his wit and the frank and respectful way he spoke with her. He talked to her as no man ever had, as if he were truly interested and maybe even entranced.

“You’re the better for it,” he said. “Did you never have a suitor? Not even once?”

“I did in my first Season.”

“And what happened with this suitor?”

“He wasn’t
really
a suitor, just someone who paid me attention for a short time.” She didn’t like thinking about Caruthers, let alone discussing him. “That was five years ago. I scarcely remember.”

Andrew set his glass on the table and leaned forward, his gaze pensive. “I doubt that, but I’m in favor of forgetting things that trouble us. However, I’ve decided I don’t like this fellow, so if you’d give me his name, I’d be happy to trip him when next I see him, or fleece him over a game of whist.”

Now it was Lucy’s turn to laugh. Warmth and joy spread through her. She’d never had a champion. She could get used to this. Goodness, that was a sobering thought. She plucked up her wineglass and took a long drink.

“I’m quite serious,” he said. “He’s an imbecile.”

“He married an heiress, and I believe is a terrible spendthrift. I’m rather pleased he didn’t pursue me.”

“You are the most practical-minded woman I’ve ever encountered.”

She lifted her glass in a toast. “Thank you.”

He toasted her in response.

After taking another sip of wine, she broached the subject that had been hovering about her mind since he’d tumbled from the balloon. “Why don’t you want people coming to Darent Hall?”

He shrugged as he turned his head to look into the fire. “I don’t like to entertain.”

It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “You were rather angry,” she said quietly. “It seemed more important than a question of entertaining.”

He gave her a wry look. “I’d just fallen out of a descending balloon after bouncing off the ground several times. By tomorrow, I’ll be sporting bruises over half my body.”

She couldn’t argue his point. She couldn’t imagine she’d have her wits about her after going up into the sky, even if the balloon had landed perfectly. “Was it frightening?”

“The falling? Surprising, but I wasn’t scared, no.” He cocked his head to the side, sending a lock of his dark hair falling over his forehead. “Or did you mean the flight? That was
exhilarating
. Probably the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.” His lids dipped over his eyes as he raked her with a provocative stare. “Perhaps with the exception of disrobing you.”

She was growing accustomed to his compliments and his flirtation so that she didn’t blush. However, heat and appreciation still filled her every time he made her feel special. And he did that often. “I don’t think I would care for it.”

He sat forward in the chair, his features growing animated. “Indeed? While I was up there, I thought you’d enjoy it. I considered asking if you’d want to go with me—as Smitty, of course.”

He had? She didn’t know what to make of that. Were they friends now? She glanced toward the bed. They were rather more than
that
. But what, then, were they?

He continued, his eyes lighting with excitement. “You can see all of London laid out below you. It’s astonishing—the dome of St. Paul’s, the spires of Westminster Abbey, the masts on the ships in the Thames. You can’t imagine the view. Well, you can, but it wouldn’t do it justice.”

“I’d be too terrified of falling, especially now after seeing you fall.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think so. You’re not scared of that sort of thing, are you?”

“Not really,” she admitted. She was, however, becoming afraid of falling
in love
. With him. That realization sent prickles of unease along her skin, so she shoved the thought away.

“Anyway, the threat of falling isn’t anything compared with the ear pain and the cold.”

“What ear pain, and what cold?”

“The higher we rose, the more frigid it grew. Sadler warned me—it’s why I was wearing a heavy greatcoat—just as he did about the earache. The pain was minimal as we ascended, at least for me. Sadler says it’s a bit different for everyone. However, on the descent, it was excruciating. It’s due to the change in altitude. The air up high has less pressure, and you sometimes have to work at opening the ear canal to bring everything into alignment.”

“How on earth do you do that?”

“By swallowing and yawning, if you can believe that. Although, it didn’t work terribly well for me, I must admit.”

“You’re not encouraging me to try this.”

He laughed again. “I’d go again right now.”

She loved his enthusiasm. “Whatever gave you this idea to go up in a balloon?”

“My brother always wanted to fly. This is the closest I could come.”

“You’ve never mentioned your brother.” And he spoke of him as if he were deceased. “He died?” She realized she knew nothing about his family.

He turned his attention to the fire again. “Yes. A long time ago. When we were young.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. And your parents?” She knew his father had to have passed, since Andrew was the earl.

“They’re both gone too.” He picked up his wineglass and drained it. He didn’t look at her as he sat back in the chair.

She longed to ask more, but he didn’t seem inclined to talk about them. What was it he’d said earlier? He was in favor of forgetting things that troubled him? She’d wager what she’d lost today on the balloon contest that his family troubled him. Hopefully, she’d find out why. Because no matter what they were—friends, associates, something far more intimate—she cared for him a great deal.