Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 16
Iris felt willing and warm under his touch, and he wanted to touch her. Everywhere he could and before he made her his legally before God. His body burned to eliminate her words that had spiked so much guilt within him only minutes ago on the ballroom floor. His only thought had been removing them from the room and having her in his arms where no past regrets rose to haunt him.
It had been too long since he'd held her. Their last kiss, as short and sweet as it had been, had left him wanting more, and he'd not been able to distract himself. Not with riding, walking, visiting his club—nothing cured his need to be around her.
His response and mood had been odd and vexing.
But now, with Iris back in his grip, he understood why he'd been feeling so off. He lusted after his future bride. The next weeks would be arduous indeed, but then, once they were married, he could enjoy her, bring her to such heights that she would lust after him every minute of every day too.
Her tongue swept against his, her kiss as frantic and commanding as his own. His hands were everywhere, the silk of her gown no impediment to his need.
He wanted to feel all of her, tease and love her as she deserved.
"We should not be in here. What if someone catches us again?"
Josh reached back, snipping the lock on the door. "That will keep anyone at bay."
She threw him a dubious look. "What makes you think they will not simply wait outside until we leave, and then we shall have to answer for our actions."
He shrugged, reaching for her again. She did not shy away from his touch. If anything, she melted into it. Her breasts pushed against his silk waistcoat, the tight pebbles of her nipples teasing him to lathe them with his mouth.
Not yet. Not here,his mind warned.
Josh dipped his head, kissing the whorl of her ear, the sensitive skin beneath her lobe. Her hands tightened about his hips, and he breathed deep her delicious scent. Now his favorite.
What was happening to him?
"You smell so good," he spoke, unable to think of anything more delicate and pretty to say what he meant. He doubted he could speak with a poetic verse, for she had his mind blown. "When we're married, I'm going to taste every part of you, Iris," he promised her, moving to the fleshy mounds of her breasts at her bodice.
When he'd seen her this evening, his heart had stopped at the sight of her. So beautiful, he had physically ached at the vision she made. He'd wanted to strip her of her gown and have her for himself, not escort her to another ball where others would enjoy what was his.
He'd found his bride. He wanted to have her all to himself.
Her fingers spiked through his hair. She lay her head against the wall, giving him leave to do as he pleased, without a word spoken.
He could not let her leave him without having one taste of her. Josh slipped her gown down over one breast, exposing her.
Her breasts were ample, a lovely handful and then some. He ran the pad of his finger about her nipple, transfixed as it pebbled harder still. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and he glanced up to see her biting her lip, watching his every move.
"Do you like what you see, Your Grace?" she boldly asked him.
His cock hardened at her sultry words, and he took a calming breath, fighting the urge to take more of her tonight. "Fuck yes, I like what I see, and it is mine to do with as I please."
She made a half moan, half gasp before his mouth was on her again, suckling her sweet nipple into his mouth. He teased her with his tongue, relished every squirm, and thrust into his mouth.
His mind thought of all the things he wanted to do to her. How he had to wait what seemed like forever before he could have her alone, all night, without the fear of interruption.
He wanted her with a need that both scared and fascinated him. She wasn't what he thought he wanted. Unsuitable in so many ways, but with her in his arms, her touch that drove his senses wild, her gasps and breathy sighs against his ear drove him mad. She may not have been what he thought he wanted, but he certainly wanted her now. Iris would be his wife and soon.
Just not soon enough.
In the early hours of the morning, the duke escorted Iris and his mother back to the London townhouse. The servants already going about their workday, lighting fires, and preparing breakfast.
"I am for bed, my dears. I shall see you later this afternoon," the duchess said, not bothering to ask what they were about.
Iris turned to the duke. Sure he, too, would leave and gain some sleep. Her feet ached, but surprisingly, her leg did not, a nice change to her normal routine. Maybe with all the extra exercise she'd been partaking in of late, the dancing, walking, and riding, her leg agreed with the action. Maybe being idle in Cornwall was not what was best for her.
"Come, breakfast with me," he whispered against her neck, sending a shiver of delight down her spine. She met his gaze, wanting to lean back into his body behind her.
"I would like that," she replied, reaching back and taking his hand, pulling him toward the dining room. He kissed the top of her gloved fingers, and her heart did a little flip in her chest. How was it that the man walking beside her was hers? She could not quite believe the truth of it all.
The table was set with the finest silverware, flowers, and a large fruit platter adorned the center. Four footmen stood at the corners of the room, ready to serve.
Iris sat beside the duke, who seated himself at the head of the table, catching the eye of one of the servants. "You may serve," he commanded the staff.
Iris's stomach rumbled at the sight and smell of bacon, ham, eggs, and freshly cooked bread.
The duke chuckled, reaching around and tipping her face toward him. "Had I known you were that hungry, Iris, I would have brought you home sooner."
Iris bit her lip, not so much hungry for the food on her plate but the man at her side. How delicious it was to be the center of his notice. "I enjoyed the ball. Parts of it were very pleasant indeed. I would not want to have left," she admitted, liking the wicked grin he bestowed on her.
"I did not want to leave either," he admitted, letting her go and putting a respectable distance between them again. "Not the closet, at least."
She chuckled as the servants finished attending them, pouring Iris a cup of tea and the duke a coffee.
"You may leave." The duke dismissed them, and they left without a word, closing the door behind them.
The duke picked up his coffee, sipping it. Iris could feel his eyes on her, watching her. She wondered what he saw. Was he pleased with whom he was marrying? Did he really mean what he said about enjoying her kisses?
After what they had done in the closet at the ball, she could not imagine that he did not. No man kissed a woman with such passion and did not care for her. Even if that care was innocuous right now, it could grow, bloom into so much more if she were blessed a second time in her life.
"We will be married in only a few weeks. I want to use that time to get to know you more. I believe we are not expected at any entertainment this evening, so I was hoping tomorrow morning you would be up for a ride in Hyde Park without Mother. I will bring a groom as chaperone, of course."
Iris swallowed the slice of bacon she was nibbling on. A morning at the park with the duke, when there would be few ladies present and a groom, no dowager duchess. "What would you like to know about me, Your Grace? I could answer any questions that you like if you wanted to start now."
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw in thought. "What is your favorite pastime?"
"Well, I once would have said reading, but after last evening, I would have to say kissing you."
Shock registered on the duke's handsome face. His eyes burned with a need that she had also to her very soul. Her body did not feel like itself. It was all fidgety and eager.
She wanted more kisses, more of his touch.
The memory of his tongue laving her nipple almost made her groan. He clasped her hand, pulling her from her chair and wrenching her onto his lap. Iris gasped, feeling the hardness of his member jutting through the evening breeches he still wore. She pressed against it, a delicious warmth settling between her legs.
"There are going to be more kisses, Iris," he growled, his mouth taking hers in a punishing embrace. Iris threw herself into kissing him, having wanted to do nothing but kiss the man since his mouth left hers several hours ago.
What was this madness that thrummed through her veins and would not be sated?
To know that she would have her whole life in his arms thrilled her. How had her fortune changed so much in the last few weeks? She had not dreamed of coming to London and becoming betrothed to a duke.
A kind and passionate one as hers was turning out to be.
The start to their courtship may not have been conventional, but she was determined to make him happy. Make them both so, and give him lots of children.
She broke the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I do hope so," she replied, kissing the duke this time, reveling in his taste, his heat, and ardent response. Because now that she had a taste of His Grace, she would be loath to lose it.
