A Duke in the Night(79)

“Oh God, Clara, yes,” August managed through clenched teeth.

She rocked her hips, feeling him slide deep within. A hunger slammed through her, so intense it stole her breath. This was what she wanted. Him. Here, just like this, deep within her where he was hers.

He was hers.

His hips thrust up and back. Clara grasped his arms, feeling his biceps flex through the thin fabric of his shirt. Beneath her touch, his body trembled, shaking with restraint.

“Don’t,” she whispered hoarsely, finding his lips with hers in the darkness. “Don’t hold back.”

He caught her lower lip, his teeth tugging as he thrust again, and she rocked her hips in time. His strokes became faster and harder, and Clara bore down on that pressure, feeling the beginnings of her release building within her.

“Harder,” she begged.

He tore his mouth from hers, his head buried in her neck, his body straining as he pumped into her. “Clara,” he gasped, “we have to stop. I can’t—”

“You can,” she said hoarsely. “I want you to come inside me, August.”

He faltered, though she could feel him still hard and throbbing deep within her. “Clara—”

“Trust me,” she said against his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck again. “Take me.”

He made a tortured noise and surged up and into her, thrusting with hard, deliberate strokes. She hung on to him, closing her eyes, letting the waves of unrelenting pleasure build. They came, more quickly now, until they crested with a sudden explosion, sending fiery sparks ripping through her as she bore down on the tidal wave of ecstasy. Brilliant spots of white light danced behind her lids, and she might have cried out.

August was panting, and she felt his cock pulse within her, and then he drove up into her with a shout, holding her tight against him as he jerked in the throes of his own pleasure. She collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, her own breath coming in heaving gasps. She made no effort to move, wanting to keep him with her just a moment longer.

It was long minutes before she felt him stir under her, his hand coming to stroke her hair where it had tumbled over her back. “You were quite extraordinary after dinner too,” he said, his voice low against her ear.

Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt. “We were extraordinary.”

“I can’t— You are— This is…” He stalled.

“Yes,” she agreed. If she’d had to put the last moments into words, she wouldn’t have done any better. If she’d had to put their entire time together into words, she wouldn’t have done any better.

“I’ve never come inside a woman,” he said after a moment of silence. “I don’t—”

“There is more than one way to be responsible,” she said, “if that’s what you were worried about.”

He stilled. “Yes,” he said after a beat of hesitation.

“A pessary, soaked in an infusion and placed before—”

August pulled back to stare at her. “You came down here to seduce me.”

“I did.” Clara ran a finger over the shape of his lips. “I hope you are not—”

“Don’t you dare ask me if I am shocked. Or if I disapprove. Or if I found any of this to be unexpected.”

“Very well.” Clara grinned. “How did I do?”

August’s head fell back on the chair, and he chuckled, the sound rumbling through him. “You almost killed me. And no, I don’t disapprove. I’m hoping you’ll try it again.”

Clara leaned forward and kissed him, a slow, languid kiss. “I hope so too.” She rested her head on his shoulder, silent for a moment. “Will you stay?” she asked.

“I’d prefer to take this somewhere with a real bed, but if you insist, I won’t move. Not sure if I can, anyway.” His hand was stroking her hair again.

“No.” She listened to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear. “Will you stay in Dover? For the time left before we return to London?”

August’s hand paused, and she felt his fingers slide against her scalp. His other arm wrapped around her back, and he pulled her even more tightly against him.

“Yes,” he whispered.





Chapter 19



The ships are missing.”

As the weeks had passed, Clara had known she had to be prepared for the very real possibility, but that hadn’t made it easier to hear. Her brother was sitting in one of the embroidered library chairs, his head in his hands and utter exhaustion etched into his face. The rays from the setting sun were slanting through the windows and spilling across the fine rugs, their golden color seemingly mocking in its splendor.

Rose got up from where she had been sitting and went to a tall window to run her hand down the edge of the velvet curtain, staring out onto the sun-washed grounds. “How do you know that?”

Harland reached into his coat and pulled out a crinkled, folded paper. He read it again, as though he hoped to discover something different within, before he tossed it on the small table beside him. It missed and fluttered to the floor, and he made no effort to pick it up. “There are reports from other vessels that have come in of unusually stormy weather. Our ships could be a thousand miles off course or at the bottom of the Atlantic for all we know. We need to make a decision.”