Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(57)

North planted one hand on the bed and thrust forward again.

Diana arched and cried out. Her body felt fluid, like water, like fire, rising to meet his, wringing grunts from his chest every time he pumped into her. He was relentless, savage with hunger and lust. She gritted her teeth, almost surrendered, caught herself, because . . .

“I love the way this feels,” she gasped, her voice raw. Her fingers curled around his arms, holding him as tightly as she could.

“Hell, Diana.” Something rasped in his voice. “You’re unmanning me.”

“You don’t feel unmanned.” She rubbed against him like a wanton woman, shameless because it felt so good. The delight of it spread to her fingertips, reminding her that he was still there, connected to her. And if she tightened—

This time his curse was a good deal harsher.

“You can feel that?”

His lips curled back from his teeth and he grunted. Diana smiled to herself and tightened again. He pulled back and buried himself to the hilt, again, again . . .

The sensation wasn’t as terrifying this time. She kept her eyes on North’s face. He was braced on his elbows now, only his hips pumping slowly. It began building again, and she couldn’t stop herself from rising greedily to meet him, her fingernails clutching his forearms, their ragged breath interlocking.

He was ravishing her and she loved it. It was worth every exhausting moment as a governess. “Do you know why this is so good?” she whispered.

“Because it’s you,” North growled, not looking away from her eyes. “Because I’m making love to you.”

“Because I’m not giving you this in order to lure you into marriage. Because we both—” She broke off with a sharp gasp.

He lifted her hips again and drove into her. She couldn’t . . .

The ripples she felt encompassed the two of them. She saw in his eyes, felt it in the sharp jerk of his body, the way he thrust faster, harder, making the feelings racking her body last longer, until her body spasmed and milked his over and over.

When Diana let go, a shudder of relief, joy, plain damned lust, went through North like a bolt of lightning. When she finally quieted, head back, gasping, he carefully rolled the two of them so that she was on top. His expert was so tired that she didn’t sit up—in fact, he had the idea that she’d never imagined such a thing.

She could ride him some other time. What he wanted was to be skin to skin, the weight of her trembling, sweet body anchoring him to the bed.

When she raised her head, eyes hooded and satisfied, he rolled his hips up and watched her eyes widen. Her throaty giggle was heaven.

He grabbed her head, winding his fingers into her hair, holding her still so he could slide his tongue into her mouth. “Next time we’re in the punt in the lake I’m going to lick all your honey until you scream into the open air,” he told her, his cock pumping up, filling her again and again. “Then I’m going to roll over on my back and you’re going to ease down on me, greedy for what I can give you.”

“I’m greedy now,” she whispered.

He filled his hands with her round ass and pumped, holding her tight so she couldn’t move, watching to make sure she didn’t wince.

Her eyes fell to half mast.

“Frightened?” he whispered.

“No.”

She clenched around him again, holding him in every way there was. Pure need cascaded through him.

He flipped her at the last second so that he could pin her down with his solid bulk, own her, keep her, take her mouth. His lusty, independent girl. Not his duchess.

His Diana.

He let it all go, giving himself, spilled himself, heart and soul, deep inside her.

“Hell’s bells,” she whispered, an eternity later. There was awe in her tone, exhausted pleasure.

Love.

He took care of the French letter, cleaned them both with a cool cloth . . . went to sleep.





Chapter Fourteen




The next morning, Diana found Mabel unenthusiastically dusting the nursery. “Her Grace took both children to see the peacock.”

The nursemaid’s eyes skated down Diana’s black dress and she shook her head. “You need to wear something different.” Mabel straightened, tucking the duster under her arm. “At breakfast this morning, we decided you still have a chance.”

“‘A chance,’” Diana echoed. “What do you mean?”

“A chance at being duchess,” Mabel said. “A chance at him, at Lord Roland.”

Diana’s mouth fell open.

“I know, it seems barmy, doesn’t it, after all that happened? But listen to me,” Mabel said, lifting a finger. “First thing, he’s a gentleman. More than others are, if you know what I mean. Not as wild as most of the Wildes. Right?”

Diana nodded.

A second finger. “He’s not angry. We thought as how he might get nasty about the fact you ran away, and about the boy, but he didn’t. He knows it all, and he doesn’t even care.”

“Lord Roland is a remarkable man,” Diana said, nodding.

“Third, and this is the important one, the man went unhinged over there in the colonies. You may not have seen it,” she said, in response to Diana’s frown, “but it’s the truth. You know Daisy, the upstairs maid? She says that he doesn’t ever sleep. And he doesn’t eat, either.”