When her convulsions stopped, he withdrew and flipped his startled wife onto her hands and knees. Grasping her by her hips, he entered her from behind. He felt her jolt of surprise, followed by the hot, sucking acceptance of her body. The lewd delight of watching his shaft sink into her pink slit almost finished him off. Shuddering, he dug his fingers into her hips and hilted himself to the root. He did it again and again, egged on by her mewling sounds, by his own need to be as deeply inside her as possible.
He felt his bollocks tighten, his seed rising. He reached under, finding her pearl, working it as he slammed his cock inside her. She gasped, her fingers bunching the sheets.
“Spend with me,” he bit out.
His command came out strangled, but she did it anyway. The squeeze of her pussy demolished the rest of his control. Heat shot from his stones with mind-melting intensity. He drove in, then held, shuddering, filling her with his pleasure.
Panting, he placed a soft kiss on her nape before pulling her down to lay with him. He had sufficient energy left to tuck the coverlet over them. She snuggled against him, her contented sigh an echo of his own sentiments. Stroking her hair, his legs tangled with hers, he fell into a deep sleep.
When Fancy awoke the next morning, it took a moment for her to recognize her surroundings. She was in Knight’s bed. He was gone, but his scent still lingered. Smiling dreamily, she rubbed her cheek against his pillow, reliving last night. The steamy passion they’d shared…and more.
I appreciate you. Having you by my side.
Happiness trembled through her. Along with trepidation.
Was she falling in love with Knight?
She admired him so. For the way he had survived a dark past and yet took care of others without expecting anything return. For the way he made her feel special and wanted. For the way he was a fighter and protector and yet had vulnerabilities of his own.
Vulnerabilities that she wanted to help him with, the way he was giving her pieces of her dream. But was she setting herself up for pain? The devastation of a broken heart?
From the start, Knight had told her that he would not love her. He was nothing if not honest. Even though they’d grown closer since that time, she had no right to expect that his view on love would change. Knowing that, she ought to be wise and guard her heart.
Alas, when am I wise?she thought with a sigh.
She had never been one to give up on her dreams. But maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe if she succeeded in fixing herself up into a perfect duchess, then he might fall in love with her.
He liked her already, she thought with burgeoning hope. And hedefinitelydesired her. Each time they made love, she felt closer to him, felt him letting down his guard more and more. Last night, he’d shown a raw side of him she’d never seen before; just thinking of the way he’d rutted her, like a barnyard animal, made her cheeks—and other parts—warm.
With friendship and passion checked off the list, all she needed was to win Knight’s admiration, the sort he obviously had for Imogen. If Fancy dazzled thetonas the Duchess of Knighton, hostess and sister-in-law extraordinaire, then he would see her in the same way, wouldn’t he? Shecouldwin his love after all.
Brimming with optimism over her new plan, Fancy returned to her room. Winning Knight’s love wasn’t the only important item on her agenda: she was going to see Bea. Because they’d arrived too late last night, Knight had promised to take her first thing.
Returning to her own chamber, she rang for help, and the maid Mrs. Treadwell had assigned her arrived with a cheery smile and a breakfast tray. After Fancy ate every bite of the coddled eggs and crisp buttered toast (last night had worked up her appetite), she dressed, completed her morning ablutions, and hurried downstairs to find her husband.
He wasn’t in the breakfast parlor, and one of the footmen said His Grace was with a visitor in the drawing room. Fancy ventured over and heard voices coming from within. Putting on a bright smile—she wanted to make a good first impression on Knight’s guests—she walked through the door and froze.
Knight was standing by the fire with the most beautiful creature Fancy had ever seen.
The woman had hair of reddish gold, bound up in swirls and curls that showed off the swan-like perfection of her neck. She was tall, just a few inches shorter than Knight. Her slender, willowy build was draped in an elegant carriage dress of cerulean blue. Her matching pelisse was cinched at her waist with a gold belt, and her slim fingers were encased in pristine white gloves. She was standing close to Knight, clutching a handkerchief, looking up at him with a longing expression that twisted Fancy’s heart.
When Knight’s gaze jerked to Fancy, the woman also turned, and her azure eyes widened in her sculpted face. The single tear rolling down her cheek enhanced her angelic beauty.
In a sickening, heart-crushing flash, Fancy knew who the woman was.
“Fancy, you’re up early.” Knight took a hasty step back from the woman. “This is an old friend, Lady Imogen Cardiff. She, er, had something caught in her eye, and I was just lending her my handkerchief.”
Fancy’s heart pounded at his gruff explanation, which rang false to her ears.
“I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace, and wish to offer my sincere felicitations on your marriage.” Imogen’s voice was as musical as bells, her curtsy a masterpiece of grace. “And I must apologize for calling at this unfashionable hour. I was running an errand in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by for a quick visit. Knighton being an old family friend, he and I do not usually stand on formality.”
“You are welcome to visit whene’er you wish, my lady.” Fancy forced the words out. “And it’s a pleasure to meet any friend o’ my ’usband.”
“You are too kind.” Imogen smiled as if Fancy had done her the greatest favor. “I understand that this is your first trip to London?”
Fancy looked at Knight, wondering how much information he’d shared about their marriage with his former love. His expression was impassive, but the tense line of his shoulders betrayed his discomfort. In her heart, she trusted him not to betray her: he’d promised to be true, and he was a man of his word. Yet now that he was seeing her and Imogen together, was he comparing them…and finding Fancy lacking? Despair and hot humiliation welled in Fancy’s breast. Why couldn’t she have had some warning, maybe a week or two to prepare?
What difference would it make? You’ll ne’er match the perfection o’ Lady Imogen Cardiff.
