Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

She reached into her pocket, retrieved a fresh handkerchief, and blew her nose. So why had she reacted so angrily when he had suggested a perfectly viable alternative given her supposed choice of profession? She stilled and allowed her true feelings to consume her. Despite all of his warnings, she believed Gervase had come to care for her. She had foolishly begun to imagine a future for them together.

There was also the matter of her desire to experience to its fullest extent the pleasure the duke had shown her. She stared at the embroidered pink roses on her satin counterpane. If she was truly honest with herself, and she must be, she wanted the duke to finish what he had started. If her financial circumstances dictated that she had to leave him, she wanted to experience his lovemaking just once before she embarked on her new career. And it was still the only viable alternative. Breaking code for the government didn't pay half as well.

She traced the intertwining silk yarn, which climbed the stems and thorns of the roses, and made up her mind. She would not ask the duke for money again, but she would ask him to take her to his bed and break their bargain. When she had experienced the best he could offer her, she was sure she could move on to her next rich protector and reap the financial rewards she needed to support Michael.

With her eminently practical decision made, and a small sick feeling in the region of her stomach, Elizabeth slid off the bed and rang the bell. She was anxious to repair the ravages of her crying and eager to put her new plan into action.

She stared into the mirror and wondered why she had the curious sensation that someone was squeezing her heart until she could scarcely breathe.

"I've finished the translation, Your Grace."

Elizabeth waited by the door until the duke looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk and removed his spectacles. His dark hair sparked blue in the sunlight that poured through the high arched window.

"Come in, Mrs. Waterstone and allow me to fetch you a brandy. You don't look at all the thing."

With a sigh of thanks, Elizabeth sank into the chair Sir John pulled out for her and accepted a glass of brandy from the duke. She held out the original scrap of parchment and her translation of it and the duke took them from her.

Gervase cursed under his breath. "It tells us virtually nothing. The attempt to assassinate the Prince Regent will be in London in the summer." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "At least that leaves Brighton out of the puzzle. The Prince Regent might be wiser to spend his entire summer down there. It is far easier to guard."

Elizabeth frowned. "But don't you see, Your Grace? It is well known that the prince prefers to spend his summer in Brighton. Why would he come up to London unless he had to?"

"The Prince Regent will return to London if Parliament requires his presence at any official ceremonies." Sir John answered. "I assume, Your Grace, that a victory parade is planned to celebrate the defeat of Napoleon? Surely that would take place in the summer?"

"That is an excellent point, Sir John." The duke strode to the door and shouted for Standish. "I will contact the Foreign Office and see if they can forewarn me of any such plans. At least it would give us something to go on."

Sir John took charge of the coded message and went to find Nicholas to accompany him to the Foreign Office. Elizabeth remained in her seat, sipping slowly at her brandy until the bustle of their departure subsided. She smiled as the duke came down on his haunches and clinked his brandy glass against hers.

"Congratulations, my dear. I've not forgotten how hard you have worked and I cannot tell you how grateful I am."

Elizabeth drew in her breath and whispered, "You could kiss me, Your Grace. I would like that."

The duke set his glass down on the rug and brought his hands up to frame her face. He studied her for a long while before smoothing a lock of her unruly hair behind her ear. Elizabeth closed her eyes as his mouth hovered over hers and she breathed in his unforgettable scent.

His lips were gentle as he coaxed her to open her mouth and she responded eagerly, amazed at how quickly her body had learned to react to his. He deepened the kiss and then settled into a sensual dance of advance and retreat that brought her arms around his neck and her fingers into his thick hair. She moaned as one of his hands drifted down from her face and settled over her breast.

His fingers slipped inside her bodice and found her taut nipple and rubbed it in the same rhythm as his tongue. She arched her back in a desperate effort to draw him closer and he fitted himself between her legs, hampered only by her skirts. She could feel the heat of his hard cock pressing against her and drew her foot up the back of his buckskin-clad thigh to pull him inwards.

He groaned into her mouth and slid his hand up inside her skirts, past her garter, and toward the juncture of her thighs.

Elizabeth tore her mouth away. "Yes, oh please..."

The duke went still, his hand frozen on her thigh, his mouth a fraction away from hers. He removed his fingers and gently pushed her back into the seat.

"No...I will not oblige you." He held out his hand and grimaced at his shaking fingers. "Perhaps you don't understand what you are doing to me, Elizabeth. I haven't had a woman since you moved into my house."

Elizabeth tried to hold him but he got to his feet. She glanced at the hard bulge of his cock and then into the cool hauteur of his face.

"Don't play games with me, my dear. If you touch me again you will be on your back and I won't stop making love to you even if the Prince Regent and his whole damned cabinet waltz in."

Elizabeth opened her mouth but the duke silenced her with an abrupt gesture. "Please allow me to know what is best for you in this situation, Miss Waterstone. I, at least, have the experience to know that what we do is unwise if we wish to keep to our bargain."

"And if we don't?"

Elizabeth came out of the chair and stood in front of him, her breasts grazing his gray waistcoat, her nose practically touching his chin. She reached up and traced his narrowed lips with her fingertips. A muscle flicked in his cheek but he didn't step away.

The gong sounded in the hall, announcing luncheon, and Elizabeth heard Standish admonishing his staff to hurry. She deliberately moved closer until her whole body pressed against the duke's, from knee to shoulder. She stood on tiptoe, placed her hands on his broad shoulders, and planted a kiss on his lips before sliding back down his aroused body.

"I apologize, Your Grace I was just practicing my skills. I promise to behave for the rest of the day."

The duke was the first to step out of the embrace, which encouraged Elizabeth mightily. She watched his hasty retreat and smiled to herself. He was very close to bedding her. But she suspected that if she didn't act soon he would forgo his promise and disappear into the nearest brothel to gain some relief. Even with her inexperience she had felt the urgency behind his caresses.

All she needed to do was to continue to hound him and be available when he finally broke. She smiled as she thought of the sweetness, which lay ahead, and prayed that her oh-so-experienced suitor would soon become the victim of his own restraint.

The clock in the hallway struck one as Elizabeth gathered her courage and crossed the hall to the duke's suite of rooms. She waited outside the heavy door with its gilded panels, listening for the sound of conversation that might indicate Jacques was still with the duke. Hearing nothing, she opened the door a crack and saw the duke standing in front of the fire, a glass in his hand and a frown on his face.