Only a Lady Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 23
Later that afternoon, Iris stepped into Gunter's Tea Shop on Berkeley Square and joined Lady Elizabeth Worthingham, Countess Muir for afternoon tea.
She sat midway in the shop and waved to Lady Muir when she entered the store. The countess started for her. Bussing both her cheeks in welcome, she said, "Miss Cooper, I'm sorry I'm running a little late. The traffic today was unmentionable."
Iris waved her concerns aside, happy to get to know Josh's sister and his family a little more. "Thank you for inviting me here. I have not been in Gunter's for some years. Not since my first Season, I believe."
"Really?" Her ladyship glanced about the room, catching the eye of an employee who started their way to serve them. "I come here all the time. The ices and sorbets are to die for."
Iris chuckled. "I will be sure to order them then."
"You should," Lady Muir said, studying her a moment. "I must say how happy I am that our darling little brother has finally found his heart. We were starting to worry he would never marry and forever be about our skirts."
Iris ignored her belief that Josh was marrying her because of love. No matter how much she longed that was the case, it was not. He did like her very much, and for now, that would have to do. Especially considering they had been caught in the throes of passion by his mother, and marriage was not negotiable.
Her mind conjured up this morning in the parlor and the exquisite pleasure he had wrought upon her body. She could only imagine and dream of what it would be like when they were together in the truest sense. What he would feel like within her, pushing her toward the type of release she already experienced in his hands, by his mouth and manhood.
Heat kissed her cheeks, and she sipped the lemonade placed before her.
"I am very happy," she admitted, and she was. More than she ever hoped to be, considering their betrothal was not the usual kind. Not that others needed to know such things. "The wedding plans are coming along well, and I believe the dowager duchess has everything in hand."
Lady Muir chuckled. "I have little doubt that Mama does." Her ladyship smiled. "Will you allow me to call you Iris? You may call me Elizabeth in return. We're to be family, after all. No need to stand on ceremony."
The hand of friendship, the kindness this family bestowed on Iris. She could not believe her fortune. "I would love it if you called me Iris. Thank you."
Elizabeth shook her head, spooning pink sorbet into her mouth. "I will admit I was concerned when Mama said she was sponsoring her friend's daughter, but after meeting you, I think it has been the loveliest gift to my mother all year. She misses us all now that we're married and settled elsewhere. I'm glad that you will be with Josh and Mama not too far away in the dowager house. When you have children, she will be kept younger still by having a purpose again. Helping you to raise your children. The ducal line."
"I hope we are able to have children, a son especially." The idea of a little Josh running about her skirts, rolling down green embankments of grass before the great Dunsleigh estate, made her long for things to come.
"Is it difficult having been in love before? I have only been blessed once with the emotion. I'm happy for you that you were able to find it a second time with my brother."
Elizabeth asked the question with no malice in her tone, and Iris thought about how to answer her. Her life now was so different from how it had been when engaged to Redgrove. She was younger, without any injuries impacting her life then. All her thoughts had been on marrying her first Season and not her second. No one wanted to be a wallflower. Redgrove had offered, he was polite and handsome, and she had said yes. She was no longer so agreeable. With the duke, everything was so different, but in a better way. More delicious and intense kind of way.
"While I cared for Redgrove, to my shame, I did not love him. We were friends and went along well enough together, but it was not a love match."
"Not like it is with my brother. How happy I am for you, dear," Elizabeth said, reaching out and patting her hand.
Love match?The statement startled her. Her union with the duke wasn't a love match either. Well, on the duke's behalf, it was not. Iris thought about the emotion, the kaleidoscope of feelings that bombarded her each time she was around His Grace.
Was she in love?
Had she fallen in love with her betrothed?
Surely not, and yet… Panic assailed her that Lady Muir may be correct. No, not maybe correct, was correct.
She loved him.
Elizabeth's mouth twisted into a knowing smile. "You did not realize, did you, Iris?" She picked up her tea, taking a sip. "It is obvious to those who share the emotion to recognize it in those about us, just as it is easy to spy a marriage that is not a happy union. I believe, and even if my brother has not spoken the words, he is in love with you also. It is as plain as day."
Elizabeth's words sent a thrill through her. Did Josh love her also? She clasped her stomach, her tummy roiling in glee. "Do you truly believe that?"
"Of course," Elizabeth said without hesitation. "He hangs about your skirts more than he used to hang around Mama’s when he was a boy."
Iris chuckled at the visualization the words brought forth before Elizabeth continued. "I've never known him to be at home so often during the Season, and as for when you are at balls and parties, he does not like you dancing with others and takes every opportunity to be at your side."
But was that love? Iris knew they certainly lusted after each other but had they fallen for each other somehow in the middle of their hasty engagement?
"How do you know he does not like me dancing with other men?" Iris queried.
"I suggest you glance at your betrothed when you are next in the arms of another gentleman, and you shall see for yourself how put out he is when you leave him for another."
Iris nodded, determined to do that the next time they were out. How wonderful it would be that her husband did indeed love her. She had not thought to make a love match, and so to hear that the possibility that Josh loved her soothed any trepidations she had at marrying a duke.
"I will take notice, but he has not said anything to me. Do gentlemen usually state such a thing to their wives before or after marriage? Would it be unfashionable and crass to say it first?"
"Bless your sweet heart," Elizabeth stated, smiling. "If you feel what I suspect you do for my brother, there is no reason why a woman cannot take control of her life and speak the truth. Whatever will come of that declaration. But," she added, pushing away her now empty cup of sorbet, "I think you shall find the duke receptive of your words and will find they are returned in all haste."
Later that night, Iris lay in bed, having fibbed to the duchess that she had a headache, using the excuse of too much sugar from Gunter's Tea Shop that afternoon. She had been put to bed, and Iris made sure she had dismissed her maid for the night, just in case Josh did do as he said he would and sneak into her suite of rooms.
She dozed on and off, the idea that she loved the duke not quite real to her. She had not seen him all day, and she had certainly missed his company, but that did not mean she loved him.
Light footsteps sounded in the passage before the handle on her door turned, and a dark figure entered her room, snipping the lock behind them.
"Miss me, my darling?"
The deep, recognizable baritone rolled over her like a wave, and she knew the truth of her situation. She loved him. She loved the Duke of Penworth.
"Of course," she whispered back as he came into view. He kneeled on the bed, crawling up over her. She chuckled, reaching for him. He was so warm, masculine, and hers—all hers to do with as she pleased for the rest of her life.
She could not be so fortunate. How had she been so blessed?
"I missed you too," he admitted, taking her lips and pulling her into a dance of desire. Iris kissed him back with all that she felt for the man in her arms. The love, the pride, his sweetness, and care. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer still, wanting him with a need that surpassed all considerations.
They would be married soon, in under three weeks. It could not hurt if she gave herself to him, body and soul.
She pushed off his jacket, baring him to his shirt. Josh kneeled, ripping it out of his breeches and throwing it into a darkened corner of the room.
Iris untied the small ribbons at her bust, wanting her shift off, to be skin on skin, completely naked with him. His eyes darkened with understanding, and he paused, his breaths coming in short, fast spurts.
"We should not do this, Iris. It is wrong, and I promised myself I would not ruin you."
Iris sat up, wiggling on the bed to release the shift from under her before she pulled it from her body, throwing it in the direction Josh's shirt had flown. The night air kissed her skin, her nipples beaded, and she shivered at the hunger burning in Josh's eyes.
A muscle worked at his jaw, his hands fisted at his sides. She reached for him, taking one fist and opening it, laying it against the sensitive flesh of her breast. "You will not ruin me. We're to be married. There is no shame in what we are doing. Two consenting adults who are promised to each other and who want the same."
His hand kneaded her breast, his thumb and finger rolling her nipple between their pads. She closed her eyes, sensation spiking between her legs.
"Are you sure?" he asked again, coming over her and settling between her legs. His manhood jutted against her sensitive skin, and she gasped, wrapping her legs about his hips.
How she wanted him, ached for him to fill her, to take her. She undulated against his cock, and he gasped, clasping her hands and pinning them above her head.
"You're a minx. Do you know what you do to me?"
She tried to place him near her core a second time, teasing herself as much as she taunted him. "I presume it is similar to what I feel now."
"And what do you feel?" he asked, pushing himself the smallest amount into her.
Iris gasped, clasping his hands tight as he continued to hold her down. Oddly, the position did not scare her. It merely made her want him all the more. See what else he had in store for her.
"Need. I need you, Josh," she admitted.
He took her lips quickly before letting go of one of her hands to guide himself into her. The sensation of his manhood stretching her for the first time was odd but not painful. Certainly nothing like she had been led to believe by her mama.
Oh no, there was no pain from the need that thrummed through her and drove her to distraction. Impatient, Iris pulled him closer with her legs. He groaned as he settled himself fully against her, holding her down.
She bit her lip, wondering when he would move. She would expire if he did not do something!
And then he did shift, rocked into her, slow, delicious thrusts that allowed her body to adjust to this new intrusion. He needn't be so innocent. She wanted him, all of him, to feel and revel in the lovemaking of her future husband.
He kissed her hard, taking her with a relentlessness that left her gasping for breath. He let go of her hands, and she clasped his back, fighting for footing. Each time he took her, her body, hungry with need, wanted more. Her body did not feel like itself. Every nerve tingled, her core wet and aching. Iris moaned, whimpered his name, and still, it was not enough. She doubted it would ever be so.
Josh rolled onto his back, taking Iris with him. He fought for breath to stem the need to spend in her tight, wet heat too soon. She would come, shatter upon him, or he would die trying.
She sat atop him, her eyes wide at the new position, but she did not move. "Your turn to fuck me, Iris darling," he said crudely.
She adjusted herself on him, and he groaned. The action made his balls tighten. "How? What am I to do up here?" she asked him.
He clasped her hips, urging her up and down. She followed his lead, doing as he showed her.
"Oh yes, I see now," she breathed, taking over from his instruction and seeking pleasure for herself. She was magnificent above him, rocking on his cock, taking him deep and hard. He breathed deep, stemming his release. So beautiful. He reached up, cupping her breast, teasing her beaded nipple.
She threw her head back, his name a chant on her lips. Holy fuck, he had not thought making love with her would be so utterly satisfying. It was better than a benign ideal. She was beyond his expectations, his hopes, in all ways.
And she was his.
Forever. Not just this night, but for a lifetime.
How had he been so lucky? So fortunate.
She tightened about him, and he knew she was close, and then she shattered. She threw back her head, her long, dark locks a waterfall down her back and over her shoulders. Her beauty took his breath away, and he came, hard and long in her cunny.
He remembered to breathe, watched her with a fascination he'd never had before as she rocked atop him, slowly returning to him and away from her climax. Milking him of his seed and every ounce of pleasure he gave her.
Her hands ran over his chest, a lopsided, satisfied grin on her lips.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself, my darling wife-to-be."
She sighed, coming to rest in the crook of his arm. She lay one leg over his, holding him close. "So, will it always be like that between us? I should think married couples never venture outside their homes if that is the case."
He laughed, reaching down and pulling the bedding over them both, not wanting her to catch a chill. "I will endeavor for it to be so. I want nothing but the best for you, my darling. Not just here when we're alone, but in all things in life. I never want to see you disappointed."
"You could never disappoint me," she said, clasping his jaw.
Josh fought down the guilt that rose at her words. He had never disappointed her yet, but should she find out the truth, or he told her the truth of her past that involved him, she would never look at him the same again.
And he needed to tell her what happened before whoever it was that had sent him the missive of the Whites bet beat him to it.
"I hope I do not," he admitted, holding her closer still. Or if I do, that you will forgive me my sins.
