Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

She paused before struggling out of her corset. Was she willing to be snubbed again? And when had it become so important for her to break through the duke's reserve? As was often the case, the duke's barbed comments held an element of truth. She had never intended to stay with him forever.

By the time she managed to rouse herself to get into bed, it was past midnight. She pulled out the pins from her upswept hair and arched her spine as her hair rippled down her back. How could Gervase make love to her with such passion and then cut her dead when she ventured to inquire about his future?

She had to decide whether to follow his unspoken command and retreat or risk all in an advance that might prove fatal to her very soul.

As she contemplated her options, the door to the duke's suite opened and the duke appeared, clothed only in his black silk dressing gown. She'd known he wouldn't leave her to sulk, had even anticipated it.

Suddenly afraid of what he might see on her face, she turned away and walked to the window. He came up behind her on silent feet and placed his hands on her shoulders.

After a long, slow, deliberate breath, Elizabeth turned to face him. She parted his robe and stroked his muscled chest. His stomach tightened as she traced a subtle weaving path around his navel and then up to his tangled black chest hair. She found his nipples and touched them with her tongue, then angled her fingers downwards.

"No harsh words for me then?" he murmured.

"No, Gervase. Only this."

His hand clenched on her shoulder as though he would draw her back up but she shrugged away his demand and sank to her knees. Only then did she venture a glance up at him as her hands came to rest on his thighs. His eyes were closed and his face held a wary blend of anticipation and apprehension that delighted her.

Gervase stared down at Elizabeth's bent head as her fingers trailed up his inner thighs and gently cupped his balls and cock. Her low murmur of pleasure as his shaft thickened made his throat dry. Words became impossible when she took him into her mouth, her tongue skimming his heated flesh, drawing him into the welcoming warmth. He hadn't allowed her to service him in that fashion before.

His hand clenched in her hair, not sure if he could stand it.

He struggled to breathe as her untutored mouth brought him to a peak of pleasure he had never experienced before. Why hadn't he felt like this with any of the other women who had sexually satisfied him and been so easily discarded in his past? Growling low in his throat, he forced Elizabeth to release his cock.

"Enough..." he grated. "Come to bed."

She took his proffered hand and rose gracefully to her feet. With infinite slowness, she untied her robe and stepped closer until her whole body pressed against his. Her hands slid up his chest and pushed his robe from his shoulders. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. He almost rocked back on his heels as her kiss intensified, offering him everything he hadn't asked for, drawing his body into an ever-tightening spiral of need.

She pushed him toward the bed and he fell on his back, allowing her to crawl on top of him. His instincts roared to roll her beneath him and possess her but something held him back.

She reached down, framed his face with her hands, and kissed him again. He lay back, ruthlessly harnessing his desires, eager to see where Elizabeth's would take them as he smoothed his hands over her silk-clad back.

He couldn't fault the view. She was naked under her robe and fully exposed to his lustful gaze at the front and yet her back was still covered by the luscious silk of her dressing gown.

He tried to capture her hips and bring her down over his aching cock but the thin silk of her robe slid through his fingers and she slithered away from him. He spread his legs in a wordless command as she moved down the bed and then groaned as she licked the bottom of his feet. His hands clenched on the linen sheets as she continued her slow exploration of his anklebone and gently bit down.

She caressed his toes and murmured his name, luxuriating in the very sound of it, as if she was drowning in her own sense of power. For once, he let her hold him in thrall. For this night and in this bed, he was hers, hers to torment and love to her heart's content.

With a sigh of pure wantonness, she knelt between his outstretched legs and allowed her hair to cascade over his groin. He shuddered and moved restlessly against the sheets as she laid her cheek against the curve of his naked hip. She trailed her fingers up his thigh until they met the magnificence of his thickening cock.

He was close to begging by the time she rose over him and lowered herself, inch by careful inch, down onto his aching shaft. He planted his feet flat on the mattress and surged upwards as wild and unfettered as an unbroken horse. She met him and matched him, drawing him into the cauldron of her body, melting into his bones, melding with him into one flesh, one body, and one aching desire.

He had to roll her beneath him as he started to climax in a gesture that eluded his reasoning but seemed blatantly obvious to his newly woken dominant, possessive side, not the worrying echoes, lies, and deceits that surely awaited him in London.

As the carriage drew closer to the outskirts of London, the duke's face lost its lazy amiability and become hard and shuttered. Although they still occupied the same small space, it was if he had completely withdrawn himself from Elizabeth. She had hoped, after their night of passion, that he would be able to relax with her, but it seemed as if her sacrifice had been in vain.

He hadn't stayed in her bed and had faced her over the breakfast table with barely a word, his chilly demeanor soon reducing her to silence. Fearing his biting wit, she hadn't attempted to converse with him since the start of their journey. She sighed and leaned her cheek against the window as the carriage slowed to negotiate the cobbled streets and the swarming crowds of people who spilled onto the road.

She'd played her hand and now her path was clear. She had to solve the code and be on her way. It was obvious that the duke was never going to allow her to get under his guard again. She sensed it in his gaze and in every indefinable, subtle, gesture that pushed her away from him.

The coachman drew up outside the imposing entrance to Delamere house. A liveried footman sprang to open the door, allowing Elizabeth to descend. She thanked him and, without waiting for the duke, walked into the marbled hallway and bade Standish a quiet good morning.

An hour later she was back at her desk, her spectacles perched on the end of her nose, her hair tightly braided to her head. When Sir John appeared and settled behind his desk after a great deal of fussing on his part, she was able to greet him with calm complacency.

"Mrs. Waterstone , how delightful it is to see you. Did you enjoy your weekend away with the duke?" He winked and she sat up straighter in her chair. "I'm sure you found plenty there to amuse you."

Elizabeth repressed an urge to blush as the edge of Sir John's contempt bit into her. She busied herself unlocking her desk drawer and retrieving the code.

"Thank you, Sir John. Indeed, it was most agreeable to leave London behind and enjoy the beneficial effects of the country air."

"I've a place in the countryside, Mrs. Waterstone." His laughter contained an undertone of bitterness. "Of course it is less luxurious than the duke's and it is heavily mortgaged. Would you care to spend a weekend with me?"

His blatantly intimate offer made her pause. She hadn't thought how the other members of the household would view her abrupt departure from London with the duke. She quailed at the prospect of Nicholas sidling up to her and propositioning her next.