She was short of breath when he lifted his head, when his fingers moved against her in a slow caress, when he blazed a line of kisses to her ear. His warm breath made her shiver as he whispered. “There must appear to be a liaison,” he murmured and Esmeralda’s eyes flew open. “But there will not be one.” He pulled back slightly, his gaze boring into hers with intensity. “I give you my word of honor.”
Esmeralda frowned and shook her head, uncertain of his meaning, but he kissed her again before she could speak. He braced her against the wall, trapping her between the bricks and his hard strength, his hands moving to her waist.
“No one will see clearly in this pose,” he whispered against her throat. “You must convince them of the truth of our supposed union.”
Esmeralda looked toward the door with its small window and realized that the duke was aware they had an audience. Her objections to him began to melt that he would hide her from view and preserve what modicum of privacy she yet possessed.
He had some purpose and it required her assistance to succeed.
Esmeralda chose to trust him.
She gasped and let her head fall back, her lips parting in apparent ecstasy as she pushed a hand through his hair. She framed his face in her hands and kissed him hungrily, holding him as captive to her demands as he had held her to his own. She felt his smile and was not surprised by the glimmer in his eyes when she broke their kiss.
“Even I might be convinced,” he murmured with satisfaction.
She nipped at his mouth. He had a marvelous mouth, ideal for kissing, both firm and responsive. She kissed him again, glad of the opportunity. “Why?” she whispered.
His jaw set. “I led them to you, but was deceived. This matter must be set to rights.”
“So, justice can prevail?” she murmured. “There are those who would say it has been done by my incarceration here.” She might have expected him to be amongst their number but the duke’s eyes flashed green fire.
“And they would be wrong. Esmeralda.” He said her name like a caress, vehement and yet with an admiration that only fed her desire for him. She wanted him in her own bed, in her house, on smooth clean sheets when she was fresh from a bath, her skin scented with rose petals, the taste of brandy on his mouth. “I will repair my error,” he whispered fiercely and she could only regret that his apparent seduction was for the sake of principles alone.
What would it be like to have such a man desire her for herself?
Esmeralda was certain she would never know.
His grip tightened on her waist, his fingers flexing. “Have you lost weight?”
“The rations are not generous,” she whispered, sparing him a slightly smile. “And the fare seldom to my taste.”
“I will see that amended as well,” he vowed and continued before she could thank him for that. “Lift your skirts. It has been too long.”
Esmeralda thought at first he referred to his own satisfaction, then realized he referred to the jailor watching them, a man who would surely expect a quick union. She lifted the front of her skirt, glad again that the duke’s figure hid details from view, then wrapped her legs around his hips. Even feigning intimacy with him was thrilling, even in this circumstance. His thighs were powerful and his buttocks tight.
She held fast to his shoulders, winding herself around him, and he crushed her into the wall. He was so large and hard that Esmeralda caught her breath with yearning. He smiled and ground his hips against her, the sensation so satisfying that she wondered whether she truly would have to pretend to find her release. Even with the layers of cloth between them, there was something utterly satisfying about the feel of the duke against her.
He claimed her mouth in another kiss, one more passionate than the last, driving her to distraction with his tongue. She writhed against him, wanting more than she was likely to have, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. “More,” she commanded, aware of their audience and he chuckled darkly, moving against her with a wondrous resolve.
She gasped, not feigning her pleasure in the least, and wonder of wonders, the Duke of Haynesdale smiled. He watched her as he rocked against her and their gazes held, some undeniable force taut between them. She saw resolve in his eyes and an increment of wonder that could only feed her confidence.
She rolled her hips, imagining that they were together in a finer circumstance, that he had come to her for more earthy reasons than his noble justification. Just the notion fed her desire and she felt the quickening muster within her. She watched his gaze sharpen as the tide rose, then her pulse leapt as he claimed her mouth again, kissing her with such fervor that she could only savor the ride. And when the crescendo broke, she cried out in pleasure, well aware that he only pretended to have found his as well.
He leaned his forehead against her shoulder, tension emanating from him in waves, and she could only admire his struggle for control. “Where do I find him?” he whispered, both his words and his urgency unexpected.
“Who?” she asked, although she thought she knew.
The duke looked up, his face close to hers, his gaze fairly burning. “Jacques Desjardins.” He mouthed the name but her heart skipped all the same.
She shook her head, refusing his aid even though the offer touched her heart.
“What does he hold over you?” he whispered, nuzzling her ear as if they cuddled in the aftermath.
Esmeralda blinked back her tears and shook her head minutely.
“You cannot resolve this alone,” Haynesdale whispered. “I will see this matter concluded in your favor. Do not be such a proud fool that you decline.” She looked up, then touched her fingertips to his face, shaken by his fierce expression.
But Esmeralda had never had a champion and she could not believe in her heart that she had one now. She knew without doubt that the price of Haynesdale’s assistance would prove too high for her to pay.
