The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(66)

He rose off the settee, driving into her with fierce abandon. She kept his hands captive, and the sensation was incredibly erotic. He felt her muscles contract as her orgasm claimed her. She let him go and clasped his neck, gripping him tightly with her hands and her sex.

Blood pulsed to his cock, and his own orgasm came with a blinding white light. He grabbed her waist again, holding her while he thrust deep and let loose his seed.

She collapsed on him, her breathing ragged but so sensual. He could scarcely believe what she’d just done. In all the nights they’d lain together, she’d never taken command like that. He liked it.

He caressed her jaw and kissed her, his lips moving softly over hers. She kissed him back, her tongue teasing his before she gathered her skirts and pushed herself off him. He watched as she used her petticoat to dab between her legs, then let the garments fall. With the exception of her rosy cheeks and still elevated heart rate, she didn’t look as if she’d just seduced him.

He, on the other hand, was sprawled nude and likely looked as if he’d been well and truly shagged. He couldn’t help but smile.

She picked up his smallclothes and handed them to him. “You may want to dress.” She picked up the letter, which had fallen to the floor amidst their exertions. “What’s this?”

He pulled on his undergarment. “A letter from my father. You’re welcome to read it.”

She arched a brow in question before opening the parchment and scanning the missive.

Locating his breeches, he pulled them on while she read. He gathered the rest of his clothing, but merely piled it onto the settee.

She looked up from the letter. “He sounds like a proud father.”

“He wasn’t always. While he wasn’t like my mother or brothers, he didn’t put a stop to their cruelty. I never understood his complicity, but then I never understood why any of them despised me so.”

“Your father didn’t despise you.”

“No, he gave up on me. Which is worse, really.” He watched her face, afraid she would pity him. He didn’t want that. “Still, I’m glad he wrote it.”

She nodded once. “That he came to have such faith in you must be gratifying.”

“Yes. And, surprisingly, a bit inspiring.” He scratched at his jaw, feeling the slight growth of his beard. “I resented coming here, having to be the earl. I never expected it and sure as hell didn’t want it. My brothers’ death forcing me to come back here felt like their final taunt, as if they’d orchestrated the entire thing just to torture me from the grave.”

“They didn’t, of course, but if they had, you think they expected you to fail.”

“Most certainly. But I’ve decided to succeed in spite of them. I find I’m quite eager all of a sudden. It feels…good.”

She gave him back the letter. “I’m glad. Well, I need to get back upstairs.”

The energy in the room had shifted during their conversation. The welcome languor of their postsex haze had dissipated far too quickly. But then he supposed that was to be expected given that it was the middle of the afternoon and they were in the sitting room.

She went to the door.

“Jo.”

She turned, her hand on the latch.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her gaze was enigmatic as she unlocked the door and left the room, closing it again behind her.

He frowned, thinking he ought to feel completely relaxed. Instead, a bead of discord had tunneled into his brain, unsettling him. He looked down at the letter in his hand, hearing that word—duty—like a relentless chime.

Doing his duty could mean a future without Jo. He wasn’t sure he wanted to contemplate such a thing, but acknowledged that, as the earl, he might have to.





Chapter 16





Jo counted the days again, sure she’d made a mistake. When she came up with the same number, she tried a third time, and a fourth. Her menses were never this late. Maybe a day or two, but this was several days. Almost a week.

She stared into nothing while her mind tried to make sense of this. Nora had always tried to tell her that it was possible she wasn’t barren, but Matthias had convinced her so completely. If she was with child…

Happiness exploded in her chest, forcing a strangled sound from her that was part sob and part exclamation of joy. She covered her mouth, her lips spreading in a smile.

Ever since she’d read the letter from Bran’s father several days ago, a feeling of dread had lingered within her. She knew their time was temporary, but she had no idea when the dream would end.

And it was a dream. Days with Evie and often Bran, feeling like a family. Nights with Bran in which she felt more treasured than she ever imagined was possible. For the first time, her life was full and she was terrified it would vanish into nothing.

Now she had hope. Her first inclination was to tell someone—Nora, of course—but she was instantly afraid. What if this was nothing? What if there was no child, and her body was simply playing a cruel joke?

Surely fate wouldn’t be that unkind to her. Didn’t she deserve some happiness?

Her gaze settled on the clock sitting on the mantel in her room. Oh dear, she was late getting upstairs. Becky was likely already here.

A few minutes later, Jo entered in the nursery to find that Becky had indeed already arrived. She ran to hug Jo. “Aunt Jo! We’re drawing, come see.” She started to pull Jo toward the table where Evie was seated.