Page 39 of Disciplined by the Duke
Chapter Twelve
Sweet. God, she was sweet. And soft. He sucked at the juice at the corner of her mouth, licked the curve of her full bottom lip. She sighed, and he took advantage of the opportunity.
His blood rushed through his ears, blocking out any sound but their heated breaths, her soft moan. She was hesitant, as still as a cornered stag at the first slide of his tongue against hers. When she tentatively met his thrust with one of her own, he growled his approval. Curving one hand around the nape of her neck, he deepened the kiss, pressing his other hand into the small of her back. He wanted to feel her body, the one she kept buttoned up in her neat maid’s uniform. He drew her close, her chest pressed flush to his, her heart in a race with his own.
No kiss had ever been so exciting. His other women had been pleasing, but practiced. When he paid doxies, they gave the appropriate responses. Smiled and sighed in skillful measure. The widows he bedded were glad to renew their remembered intimacies, and receive the odd bit of jewelry he methodically doled out. Marcus had no illusions. Those women liked him more for his title and purse than for his company. There were no surprises, and he preferred it that way.
Or so he’d believed. The woman in his arms was a surprise. He didn’t know how she’d react nor could he predict how this would end. The thought opened a yawning pit in his stomach at the same time as it sent fire racing through his veins. Dragging his mouth from hers, he sucked in deep breaths. He needed to regain control, for both their sakes.
“Liz.” He rubbed his nose against hers.
She opened her eyes, looking dazed, her mouth swollen from his attentions. “Yes, Your Grace?”
He stiffened. “When I’m holding you in my arms, don’t use my title.” He swore. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
She clasped the lapels of his coat. “I shouldn’t do many things, but that doesn’t mean I wish to stop. Please, Montague.” She shifted, her leg brushing against his. Her hand fell to his thigh. He needed it a couple inches higher.
The itch in his fingers eased when he stroked the soft skin of her neck. This close to her, he couldn’t not touch her. “There is so much you don’t know, about your body, about what you’re feeling. You don’t know what you’re asking.” He rubbed his thumb into the wrinkle that appeared above her nose. “I don’t think you can truly consent to what you don’t understand.”
She struggled against him, and he forced his hands to relax their grip. Rising to her feet, she paced in front of him, shooting him dark looks. “So I can never find out what it is I don’t know because I don’t know it? That makes no sense.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Yes. I mean no. Wait, repeat the question?”
She ignored him. “I was coddled all my life, the bitter realities of the world hidden from me, and it left me completely ill prepared for what came my way. I am tired of not understanding what others do.” Her pacing increased in speed, each pivot a sharp about-face even Wellington would be proud of. “Ignorance can have unintended consequences and people get hurt. My sister . . .” Biting her lip, she darted a glance at him from the corner of her eye.
He crossed his legs and settled more deeply into the settee. “Your sister?”
“No matter.” Her shoulders slumped. “None of this matters. You’re right; we shouldn’t be doing”—her hand flapped between the two of them—“this. I just wanted to know why, when I’m with you, I feel . . .” She stopped, at an apparent loss for words.
Rising to his feet, he stalked towards her. “What do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m unsure.” She shook her head, more ebony strands falling loose around her shoulders. “It feels . . . wonderful, as exhilarating as galloping across a meadow, but at the same time I want nothing more to do with it.”
“Do you feel like you did in the servants’ passage, watching your friend with Mr. Todd? Is that how I make you feel?”
Her head snapped up, and she sucked in a breath. “I . . . yes.” She pressed both hands to her stomach. “This is all wrong. I apologize, Your Grace; I should go.” She dropped a hasty curtsy.
He grabbed her shoulders when she straightened, stopping any attempt at flight. His gut burned. He clenched and relaxed his hands, his mind telling his fingers to release her, to let her go, another organ begging him to draw her close. His heart gave a painful squeeze. “No.”
Her brows drew down. “No?”
Stepping around her, he turned the lock on the study’s door. He leaned against the exit, crossed his arms, forcing his breaths in and out in a slow and even tempo instead of the ragged gulps his lungs demanded.
Liz lacked the same control, her chest heaving like she’d raced up three sets of stairs. Her eyes darted from him to the door latch and back. Her face lacked expression, but she couldn’t hide the heat in her eyes, or her nerves as she shifted from one foot to the other. She was hungry and fearful and curious, and had no idea what to do about it.
He pushed off the door. He could show her what her body needed. Not everything. Nothing that would ruin her or break his own rules. After tonight, those rules would be severely bent, but there was no way he was letting her out of this room as aching with need as he’d been since the moment he first saw her. He was strong enough to make this night about her wants and ignore his own. He set his shoulders. He’d make sure of that.
She turned like a top as he circled her, keeping her wary gaze on him. “Montague? What are you doing?”
“Giving you a lesson. About your body.” He trailed a finger down the side of her neck. She tilted her head, exposing more skin to his caress. “About your desires. About how to ease the ache inside you.” He stepped away from her, and smiled at the small mewl of protest she made at their separation. “I can show you much tonight. But you have to choose it.”
A flicker of candlelight drew his attention to a small, round plate of glass displayed on the mantel. Picking it up, he examined the finely detailed landscape painted upon it. His father had purchased it on one of his trips to Venice, one more trinket to fill a house empty of his wife and youngest son. It would serve Marcus’s purpose well.
When he held it out to Liz, she was slow to reach out her hand to take the memento. He trailed his fingertips over her palm as he released it to her, and a surge of satisfaction pumped through his veins at her shiver. “You can return to your chambers with no consequences. Or you can stay. Put yourself into my hands for the night. Learn what it is you desire. Understand why your friend sought out Mr. Todd’s attentions. The choice is yours.”
His body stilled as he waited for her decision. He wanted nothing more than to use his lips, his fingers, to convince her to take the chance. To let him mold her. His cock pressed against his trousers at the thought of taking this woman under his command.
“Montague . . .” She looked down at the plate and back up at him. Her forehead smoothed as understanding struck her. “All actions have consequences,” she whispered.
