Page 78 of To Dare a Duke

Robert snorted and laid her on the bed, keeping his arms about her. “How about this?” he asked, leaning down and kissing her.

Prue sighed, sliding her arms about his neck once more as he pressed his mouth to hers, teasing and coaxing and caressing, his tongue sliding against hers in slow sweeps that made her shiver with longing and impatience.

He drew back and she tightened her hold on his neck. “Tomorrow is too long to wait,” she grumbled, pulling him back.

“I know,” he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress beside her. His hand slid up from her waist in a slow, teasing glide. “Far, far too long.”

Prue gasped as his large hand cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing casual circles around the peak which grew taut, aching for more under his touch.

“You like that?” he murmured against her ear, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes,” she replied, sounding breathless for real now, no acting required.

Prue felt his chuckle rumble through her and watched as he lifted his head, gazing down at the place where his thumb tormented the tender flesh through the fine gauzy cotton. She mentally spared a moment to thank his sister for the loan of it, as her own rather more serviceable version wouldn’t have been half so erotic. As it was, she could see the darker outline of her nipple, feel the touch of his fingers on her almost as if there was nothing between them. When he ducked his head and suckled her through the cloth, the heat of his mouth enveloped her, and she arched off the bed with a cry of surprise.

Robert sat back, surveying her with a look of deep satisfaction. He was a little flushed, his hair mussed, his shirt gaping open to his navel, giving a tantalising glimpse of a hard chest. Prue sat up, reaching for him and Robert jerked, stumbling away from her, getting to his feet.

“Oh, no,” he said, sounding just as breathless as she was. “No, I can’t. Stop trying to tempt me. I mustn’t. I—I have to go or all my good intentions….” He trailed off, staring down at her, his chest rising and falling as though he’d just run for miles.

“Are you quite sure?” Prue said, understanding and not disagreeing with the sentiment, but feeling rather bereft all the same.

“No!” he said emphatically, and then turned on his heel and stalked from the room, closing the door behind him.

Prue fell back against the pillows and gave a huff of disappointment but could not stop the slow smile that curved over her mouth and remained there until she fell asleep.

***

13th June. Beverwyck. London. 1814

They were married the next afternoon in an intimate ceremony in a hastily arranged room at Beverwyck. The staff, thrown into crisis, moved heaven and earth, and somehow the room was filled with flowers, a wedding breakfast supplied fit, if not for a king, then most certainly for a duke and his new duchess.

That morning, Prue was introduced to Helena’s dresser, Mrs Marigold, who was as impressive as Sally feared, but far kinder and more welcoming than either of them expected. One of Helena’s dresses was expertly fitted to Prue’s slenderer, shorter figure, whilst Sally took pains over dressing her hair.

“Oh, you look lovely,” Helena said, gesturing for Prue to turn in a circle.

She did as Helena asked her, returning to her own reflection in the full-length mirror a moment later with as much surprise as she had the first time. She looked rather fine, she thought with a grin.

The dress was a pale green satin, trimmed with Mechlin lace and tiny glass beads that caught the light. It was simple, cut a little off the shoulder with short, capped sleeves and without too many frills and fancy touches, for which Prue was grateful.

Prue was still admiring herself—a rather novel experience—when there came a soft knock at the door. Sally hurried to open it and Prue turned to find Minerva at the threshold.

“Minerva!” she exclaimed, holding her hands out towards her cousin.

“I just wanted to say congratulations, before you came downstairs,” Minerva said, looking a little awkward as she took Prue’s hands. “I’m so pleased it worked out. Poor Bedwin was bereft when you disappeared. I’m happy for you, Prue, I really am.”

Prue looked into her pretty blue eyes and smiled, seeing the truth of her words there. “You really never wanted to marry him, did you?” she said, realising she was right as Minerva returned a rather rueful expression.

“Not really. I mean, the idea of it was tantalising, I suppose, like a daydream of being a princess, but I just played along as I knew how much Mama wanted it. It’s not what I want, though, not really.”

“What do you want?” Prue asked her, curious now.

Minerva shrugged, laughing a little. “I’ve no idea.” She grew serious for a moment and then added. “Someone kind.” She looked back at Prue and then blushed like fury. “Oh! Not that… I didn’t mean….”

Prue chuckled and shook her head. “I know what you meant, and I will speak to Robert about getting you some introductions to some nice young men, but far more importantly, after the wedding I will introduce you to some friends of mine. I think it’s time you joined my book club.”

***

After the ceremony, Prue looked around at the ladies clustered about her and felt a swell of happiness. She had never felt so content, and such a sense of belonging. Glancing across the room, she saw Robert deep in conversation with the Earl of St Clair. The Earl’s younger brother, Jerome, stood with them, laughing at something Robert had said. He looked up then, her husband, pausing in his conversation to smile at her, and blow her a kiss.