Bertrice Small - The Duchess

"Walk? Eight miles? Do you think that you can?" the duke wondered. "Surely we can find a cart."

"We probably should," Allegra considered upon reflection. "We will need to get away from the countess's home as quickly as possible, but as for walking, my darling, we are all country lasses, even if we are fancy ladies. We must not, however, draw attention to ourselves, Quinton. I shall have to think carefully upon it."

"Do not think now," he said, kissing her brow, his hand slipping beneath her robe to cup a breast. His thumb brushed lightly over the nipple as he bent to find her lips.

Her senses reeled. They always did when he touched her breasts which they had both discovered were very sensitive. "Mmmmmm," she murmured against his mouth, and then she pulled away. "Get out of your clothes, my lord. I do not want your dirty boots mucking my coverlet." She gave him a gentle shove.

With a chuckle he arose, and began to draw off his garments. Boots first. Then his shirt and neckcloth. His stockings, his breeches and his drawers. Allegra watched him. He had wonderfully firm buttocks. Her fingers itched to touch him. He turned about to reenter the bed, and she sighed with pleasure at the sight of his manhood, which stood at half-mast amid the tangle of his dark bush.

"Why you shameless wench," he teased her, noting the direction her eyes had taken.

"It's like an ivory pillar," she told him. "All blue-veined, and beautiful."

"If the French ever get out of Italy," he said, "I shall take you there one day to view the art, Allegra. The ancients sculpted a great many nudes of men and of women. I can see you have an appreciation of such things." He lay next to her, fingering her curls.

"There are statues of naked people: 1" she asked him, surprised.

"Oh, indeed there are," he said, unfastening the sash of her chamber robe, and pushing back fabric. "But none, my darling, are as fair as you are." He bent his head to kiss her breast.

"And these statues are displayed in public?" she continued.

"They are." His mouth closed over a nipple, and he began to suckle upon her.

"Oooo," she released her breath with an audible sigh. His mouth was warm, and the tugging upon her flesh was very exciting. Allegra knew she had more questions to ask him, but somehow they all fled from her mind as he filled her with pleasure. Her fingers found the nape of his neck, and she began to knead it with one hand. He had imprisoned her other hand with his as he feasted upon her breast.

She excited him. God in His heaven, she excited him! He could never get enough of her, but he was certainly going to try. He began to explore her body with his lips and his tongue. She made little noises indicating her pleasure as he caressed, and kissed, and licked at her. Her skin was petal soft, and just faintly fragrant with the scent of lilac. There seemed to be pulses wherever he touched her. It roused his senses even further.

"Do it!" her voice suddenly pleaded urgently, squirming against him in a suggestive and provocative manner. "Please!"

"Do what?" he teased her, almost cruelly. He was fairly certain of what it was she wanted.

"With your tongue. Please!" she cried to him.

"Where?" he taunted. Now he was positive of her need.

"There!" she almost screamed. She was going to kill him if he didn't put his tongue on her, and make her mindless.

"Here?" he questioned, his tongue probing her navel.

"I hate you!" she half sobbed.

"Or perhaps," he paused, positioning his big frame properly. "Here!" His tongue made contact with her little love button, and he heard her shriek softly. Slowly, slowly, he licked it, tasting the salt and the musk of her, watching as it grew swollen with her desire. Then the duke did something he had not done before. His palms lifted Allegra's bottom up, and he pushed his face against her hot sex, his tongue seeking, and then finding, her passage to push as deep as he could within, using it as he would his manhood.

It was then she screamed, feeling that digit thrusting inside her in an incredibly intimate and secret act. "Ohh, God!" she sobbed. "Ohh, I didn't know!" She dug her fingers into his shoulders. Her nails pressed deep. She clawed at him desperately. "Make it happen!" she begged him. She was so close, and yet she could not reach her heaven. His tongue continued to tease and torture her until she thought she would explode with her longing.

His manhood was hard. It was raging to plunder her sweet depths. He couldn't continue until he had ravaged her completely. His head lifted from the hot and marshy depths. He covered her body with his, his rod thrusting into her. Her cry of utter pleasure almost cost him his own. He leaned forward and kissed her hard, his hips pressing against hers in a rhythmic cadence of ancient lust that she met eagerly. He groaned, his head awash with his passion for her. For his beautiful and desirable wife. For Allegra!

Her own senses were reeling with her longing and the hot sweet delight that he offered her. She soared. She flew higher, and higher until her cravings all seemed to come together, and burst in a fiery balloon of lustful triumphant joy. And then she was falling, falling, falling, down into a dark and warm abyss where the pleasure slowly, slowly drained away. Then all was nothingness.

When her senses finally began to return she discovered that he was sprawled across her, still panting. Their bodies were wet with their efforts. "You… are… wonderful," she managed to say to him, and she caressed his dark hair.

He pulled himself off of her, and rolled onto his back. "You," he told her sincerely, "are incredible, my darling duchess."

"I love you," she replied, drawing the coverlet up over them.

"And I love you, Allegra," he responded, reaching for her hand. "Oh, my darling girl, how I love you!"

W hen the morning came they discovered that Madame Paul had already delivered the costumes that they would wear on their mission to rescue the Comtesse d'Aumont and her children. She had come herself, knocking on the door in the darkness of the predawn. Allegra opened the box, and was astounded by what she found. There were four ragged and grubby skirts, and an equal number of dirty tricolor sashes. Four patched white blouses, four pairs of wooden shoes, and four limp dingy mobcaps. In a second box were three grimy men's shirts, three pairs of baggy pantaloons, three short carmagnole peasant jackets, and three red felt Phrygian caps ornamented with the tricolor cockade. There were also wooden shoes for the gentlemen.

"It's wonderful," Allegra said. "Dressed up in this lot we will look just as we should."

"Why are there four sets of women's costumes?" the duke asked his wife quietly.

"Because Honor is going with us," Allegra said as quietly. "She speaks excellent French, Quinton, and she has very good common sense in matters of which we may not be familiar."

"How is it your maid speaks excellent French?" the duke demanded, curious.

"Because she sat with me in the schoolroom for years, my darling. One day when James Lucian and I were having difficulty conjugating a verb, Honor chimed right in with the correct conjugation, and in a rather good accent, according to our tutor. She had, it seems, been learning right along with my brother and me. She will be very helpful, Quinton. You will see."

He laughed. It would, he knew, be useless to argue with Allegra. Worse, she was probably perfectly correct. And it was rather amusing to boot. His wife's country girl of a servant spoke, to quote Allegra, "excellent French." "If you believe Honor can aid us, and if she is willing to risk the danger involved," the duke told his wife, "then I can have no objection, my darling duchess."