Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter Twenty-One
Emery desperately wished what Miles said could be true. Her feelings had grown for this man during his absence from Wildwood. Though she knew she should reject him outright, her heart demanded that she give in.
At least for a little while.
They might never have an opportunity such as this again. She expected to hear from Mr. Fillmore any day now and when she did, she would leave the place that had been home for so long—and with it, leave Miles and her heart behind.
She gazed up at him, into those sky blue eyes that were as clear as a summer’s day. Her hand reached out, her thumb caressing the small scar on his cheek, a lasting, bitter memory for him of the day his father had disowned him. Deep inside this good man was still a lost little boy. One who deserved attention and affection. It would have to be another woman who gave that to him in marriage, healing his wounded heart.
For now, however, she could give him respite from his lonely world tonight.
“Emery,” he said, his voice low, sending shivers along her spine.
His lips touched hers. One hand came and cupped her nape. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. They had this moment. For her, it would be all she would ever have of him. She didn’t know how much she would give of herself. What was important was to give him comfort.
And make a memory for herself which would last her a lifetime.
She opened to him, welcoming the sweep of his tongue, tasting the wine they had sipped and even the sweetness of the cake he enjoyed indulging in so much. His scent, that familiar sandalwood along with something utterly male, engulfed her. Her fingers pushed into his thick hair, pulling him closer. He growled, deepening the kiss, causing her pulse to flutter wildly. A low thrum of desire pooled in her belly.
In that moment, Emery decided she wanted all of him. Whatever he would give, she would greedily take.
Their passionate kisses caused her body to heat, her blood flowing like liquid fire through her veins. He gathered her into his lap, the feel of him comforting and wildly exciting at the same time. His demanding kisses bruised her lips but she eagerly sought more, stroking his hard, muscular chest.
Miles broke the kiss, his lips trailing across her cheek, his breath warm. They moved to her ear, where his teeth toyed with her lobe, tugging and then nipping it. A jolt swept through her, desire hot and potent. She wrapped her arms about his neck and brought his mouth back to hers greedily, reveling in his taste and scent. They kissed endlessly, her breasts growing more sensitive as she pushed against him.
Once again, he broke the kiss, his lips going to her throat, nipping and licking, enflaming her. Then he eased her from his lap, pushing her back onto the hay, hovering over her, his beautiful face smiling down upon her.
“You are breathtaking,” he gasped before his mouth went to her throat again.
His hands covered her breasts, finally hearing her call, kneading and squeezing as they seemed to grow fuller. His fingers teased her nipples, tweaking them, lighting the fire within her until it blazed brightly. A deep longing filled her. She had this man for this one night and would make the most of it.
Her hands reached up to cradle his face, stroking it lovingly. Then she locked her hands behind his neck and brought him to her breast. Miles understood what she needed. He pulled her gown from her shoulders, lowering it to her elbows, and then pushed the front down. Only her chemise remained. His mouth took in her breast, licking her through the thin material, sucking and grazing his teeth along the nipple.
Emery cried out, her back arching. He continued worshiping her breast as his hands began roaming the rest of her body. She became dizzy with heat and need. His fingers danced beneath her hem, running up her calves and along the insides of her thighs. She craved his touch. His kiss.
Then his fingers reached their final destination. She had known all along that was the place she needed him to touch her. He stroked a finger along the seam of her sex, causing her to whimper.
“I am going to touch you, Emery. Touch you until you scream my name. I will be the last man who does this.”
“I know,” she murmured, knowing she would never allow any man to take such liberties.
Because she loved him. She, Emery Jenson, loved Miles Notley, the Duke of Winslow. And she would never love another.
He paused a moment, hiking her skirts up to her waist. Then he gazed at her intently as his fingers began working a spell upon her. They caressed her. Teased her. Filled her.
Her eyes never left his, even when the storm clouds gathered within her. A dam broke, her passion spilling over as she did cry out his name, bucking against his hand, riding a wave of incredible spasms that left her spent.
“Do you know how I loved seeing you come?” he asked softly. “How the amber of your eyes grew? I want to see that every night, Emery. Every day. I want to fill you. Bury myself within you. Leave my seed so that a child—many children—will grow within you. I want to raise that family with you, my darling. I want them to know the love I never did.
“Until now.”
As he gazed at her so tenderly, tears leaked from her eyes.
“Don’t cry, my love,” he said, kissing the tears away.
“Do it,” she said, determination in her voice. “Fill me.”
Surprise flickered across his face. “Now? We are not yet wed.”
They never would be—but he did not have to know that.
“All I know is that I want—need—you inside me,” she said honestly. If there were consequences of this rash action, she would deal with them. In fact, she hoped a child would result from their coming together. It would give her a piece of him.
Miles smiled. “I need you, too, my love. More than I could ever say.”
He kissed her deeply, a kiss of reverence and wonder. He unbuttoned his fall and Emery saw his manhood jut out, large and pulsing. She touched it lightly, hearing his groan, knowing she affected him as much as he did her. As she stroked it, his fingers found her again, teasing and caressing, driving her into a frenzy.
“This will hurt some the first time we couple,” he warned her. “It never does after that.”
“Go ahead,” she said, her breathing shallow and rapid.
He pushed into her. It was uncomfortable for a moment and then the stinging subsided. She had the urge to move and did so, her hips rising to meet him as he thrust into her. She reveled in each stroke, watching and memorizing his face. When he cried out and shuddered, she did the same.
Miles collapsed atop her and she clung to him, savoring his weight and scent. Then he rolled to his side, bringing her along, and they looked into one another’s eyes. Emery knew she was changed forever. She would never forget this man. This moment. This feeling of utter contentment.
He kissed her softly and then pulled her head to his chest, his hand stroking her back. They lay together for a long time, the sweet scent of hay surrounding them.
Emery finally pushed up. “We must see to Athena.”
She saw the foal was still nursing. The placenta seemed to have expelled itself. She lowered her skirts and went to the mare, who seemed to be blanketed in contentment.
Stroking the horse’s neck, she said, “You have much to be proud of, Athena. You have birthed your foal tonight.”
By now, Miles had repaired his fall. Using hay which he gathered in his hands, he scooped up the placenta.
“I’ll be back,” he said, exiting the stall with it.
Emery went to the foal and checked it carefully. Its limbs seemed to be strong and, overall, the newborn appeared healthy. She found it was a female and told Miles this when he returned.
“Then we need a good Greek name for her. What do you suggest?”
She thought a moment. “Most of the major goddesses are already represented in your stables. How about Tyche? She was the goddess of prosperity and fortune.”
“What do you think, Tyche?” he asked, petting the foal who now stood more firmly than an hour ago. “Do you like that name? I think it suits you.” He smiled at Emery. “For tonight was a night of good fortune.”
Sadness filled her but she smiled brightly at him. There would time for sorrow later.
“Since mother and daughter are doing well, I suppose I should return home,” she said.
“I will walk you to your parents’ cottage.”
She nodded, knowing she couldn’t refuse him anything. Saying goodnight to the pair of horses, they left the stables. Though it had grown dark, the strong light of the moon allowed them to find their way easily.
They reached the cottage, where a light glowed from within. Her mother must have left a lamp burning for her. Miles took her hands in his. He brought them to his lips, kissing them tenderly.
“I will see you in the morning,” he promised and then gave her a sweet, slow kiss.
The last she would receive from him.
“Goodnight, Emery.”
“Goodnight,” she echoed and entered the cottage, closing the door behind her and going to douse the lantern.
Her mother sat at the table.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me, Mama,” she said.
“I didn’t mind. How is Athena?”
Emery smiled. “She did very well. She is now the proud dam of Tyche.”
“You named the foal?”
She heard the unspoken question in her mother’s voice.
“His Grace was present at the birth,” she said. “He approved the choice of name.”
Her mother shook her head sadly. “My Emery.”
She went to her mother, who rose and enfolded Emery in her arms. The tears came and she clung to her mother.
“Do you love him?”
“He makes me feel things I shouldn’t feel and want things I can never have,” she replied.
“Has he compromised you?”
“No.” She couldn’t tell her mother the truth. That she had wanted Miles so much that she had been the one to beg him to take her virginity.
“You will need to go soon,” Mama urged. “I know you have been waiting to hear from Mr. Fillmore. The stage only comes twice a week through Woodmorrow. The next one leaves the day after tomorrow.” Mama’s gaze penetrated her. “I think you should be on it.”
“But what about Papa? How can I leave when he is taking a turn for the worse?”
“You do what you must to keep your body and heart intact,” Mama replied. “I have been saving for this day. You know that the Hamilton cottage has been empty for some time. I will speak with His Grace tomorrow and ask if we can rent it. Give this one up for the new steward. We cannot hide your father’s condition from His Grace any longer, Emery. I am surprised we have gotten away with it this long. His Grace is a very astute man.”
Emery’s heart whispered to her that Mama was right.
“Very well. I will be on Friday’s stage. I will go into Woodmorrow tomorrow and purchase my ticket so that I will already have it. Hopefully, I will hear from Mr. Fillmore before I leave. If not, I will find an employment agency on my own. What about references, Mama?”
“In many cases, the household’s butler or housekeeper write them and the employer merely signs the reference.” She studied Emery. “I am not certain His Grace will do so. He will think you too valuable to release from service.”
“It wouldn’t look right if you wrote one for me, Mama. Perhaps Mr. Trottmann could do so?”
“I will see that he does. A reference from the Duke of Winslow’s butler would almost be as good as one from the duke himself.” Mama hugged her. “Oh, I am sorry it has come to this, my sweet girl. It is for the best, though.”
She nodded. “I am tired, Mama.”
Her mother kissed her brow. “It is late. Go to sleep. Don’t go to the main house in the morning. I plan to speak to His Grace about your father. In fact, I will have you go into town. After you purchase your ticket, you may stop at Jernigan’s for some supplies. I will leave a list on the table for you.”
“I don’t know if I can avoid him, Mama.”
“I won’t tell him you are planning to leave. I will concentrate on discussing your father’s condition and our future at Wildwood. If His Grace approves and allows me to lease the Hamilton cottage, I can say you are supervising our move there. That could buy us some time until you leave for good.”
Emery embraced her mother. “I love you, Mama. I hate that I have to go.”
“We thought it was a possibility because of the previous duke. Although I believe His Grace is a much better man than his brother, he still might push you to do things you shouldn’t do. Men in power and position often do that to women. I want to protect you.”
Her mother kissed her again and bid Emery goodnight. She went to her room and changed from her wrinkled gown, washing the small bit of blood from her thighs, the sign her maidenhead had been breached.
Climbing into bed, she allowed the tears to flow freely, determined it would be the final time she would cry over walking away from the man she would forever love.