Dukes By the Dozen

He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth. When he began to suckle lightly, she pressed herself harder against him, and her fingers clutched at his hair to keep his mouth tightly against her. He swirled the tip of his tongue over her, then lapped at her between greedy suckles, the combination of licks and sucks and nips of his teeth making her writhe on his lap. If she kept that up, she’d discover exactly what having his mouth on her did to him.

If fondling her breast brought her this much pleasure, then he could only imagine her reaction if he took a more intimate touch.

“I want to caress you,” he murmured against her hot flesh. “Right where you’re aching to be touched.”

She tensed with surprise, and when he looked up into her eyes, he saw her bewilderment that he could know what sensations bloomed inside her. But of course he knew. Through her letters and the night of the masquerade, he knew all of her desires. Just as he knew that no other man had ever touched her before.

He slipped his hand beneath her skirt and brushed it up her leg, pausing when he reached the top of her stocking. When she didn’t tell him to stop, he dared to let it drift higher, until he teased his fingers at the feminine curls guarding her sex. Each of her breaths came labored with nervous anticipation, and he could feel the damp heat of her just below his fingertips.

“Yes.” Her lips formed the silent word, but it was all the permission he needed. He stroked his hand over her feminine folds. Sweet heavens…she felt like liquid silk, so soft and smooth beneath his fingertips.

“John,” she whispered achingly.

He smiled against her shoulder. He loved to hear her say his name, when she knew exactly who the man was who was bringing her such pleasure. Almost. She didn’t know that the Duke of Monmouth and the John from her letters was the same man. Guilt pricked at him that he couldn’t tell her and reveal all, but it couldn’t be helped. Not just yet.

“Soon, my love,” he promised with a kiss to her temple, and meant every word. “I’ll make love to you soon.”

Her hand clamped down on his wrist, stilling his hand. “No.” Her eyes flared with a haunted look. “We cannot—I cannot…”

“Because we’re not married.” He knew why she would keep herself from him and respected her even more because of it, yet that didn’t stop the disappointment from pouring through him.

“No,” she whispered. “Because you want to destroy the mill.”

They stared at each other, silent and still except for the pounding of his pulse in his ears and her gradually steadying breaths. Both of them were flush with desire and arousal, both aching and yearning for more. But there was more than just layers of clothing between them, and those problems couldn’t be solved with a few loose buttons and lifted skirts.

“Because I’m still the man you think is your enemy,” he murmured.

At that blatant truth, she lowered her face away, but not before he saw the glistening in her eyes. His chest clenched as he slowly drew his hand away from her and smoothed down her skirts.

She slipped off his lap to return to her place beside him, putting even more distance between them than before. Except for lips swollen from kisses and cheeks flushed pink from desire, anyone looking at her would never realize how close he’d been to making love to her.

“If things were different between us, if I wasn’t the man who wanted to put through a canal and you weren’t the miller’s daughter”—He couldn’t resist reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear—“would you let me love you?”

“But things aren’t different,” she dodged softly, her shoulders falling.

“Oh, I think things are very different now.” And if he had his way, they’d be even more different in the coming weeks.

“You’re a duke and I’m a villager. I could never be anything more to you than a mistress.”

No, you could be my entire world.

“I’m just a man. One you know so much better than you think.”

She lifted her face, and her watery eyes held his, in silent challenge to his assertion. “Do you still want to put through your canal?”

“I want to bring jobs to the area, good jobs that will make certain that all families have enough food to eat and candles to chase away the darkness, rather than just those tenants who happen to have a kind lord of the manor. Why is that wrong?”

“At what cost to my family and to our village?” She shook her head in frustration. “What good is being able to buy grain if there’s no one who can grind it into flour for them?”

When a tear slipped free and fell down her cheek, he knew they were at an impasse. No amount of kisses or caresses—or letters pinned to trees—could soothe away her pain.

Silently, he pulled on his gloves, then reached for the ribbons to drive them back to the mill.

CHAPTER 6

THE BUTLER BOWED HIS HEAD. “His Grace will see—”

With a determined stride, Cora stormed out of the drawing room past him and through the house to the study. She clutched Monmouth’s latest proposal for the lock in her fist.