The Doxy and the Duke by Caroline Lee

Chapter 5

Once a week,on Sunday mornings, Countess Fangfoss herded as many of her guests as she could into a group, and they all walked to the Cathedral in York. Raina had gone a few times on Phin’s arm, but after a while, the whispers and pointed looks got to be a bit much, so she avoided that activity as much as she avoided the Friday evening dancing.

Unfortunately, the countess had told her explicitly, unequivocally, she was expected to attend tonight’s entertainment. Raina had seriously considered faking a bout of the plague—it had worked to get out of that geography test when she’d been fourteen—or something equally dire, but had eventually dismissed it.

After all, Miss Julia had made it clear each and every one of her “ladies” was expected to entertain the blasted duke by dancing with him, and Raina had put it off as long as she possibly could. All she had to do was attend the one event, dance the one dance with him, and make her escape before the tongues began to wag.

The countess had it in her head that the duke, as the resident nobility, needed a wife, and she was just the woman to supply one. From what Raina had heard from her friends, the man was cold, aloof, cold, and far too haughty. Oh, and cold.

He sounds delightful.

But that was tonight, and Raina didn’t want to dwell on the evening’s entertainment, not when the afternoon’s entertainment was bound to be far more interesting.

Interesting? Try invigorating, arousing, titillating, fulfilling—

She could likely continue, but her mind would eventually become taxed trying to come up with the more polite ways of saying, “I’ll be making love to the most arousing man I’ve ever met,” so she ought to just leave it at that.

Raina could walk to York, but she didn’t particularly want to. Besides, she fully intended to be exhausted by this evening, and would appreciate not having to walk back to Fangfoss Manor. So she’d commandeered a barouche and driver for the afternoon, promising a generous tip if he returned for her at the appointed time.

And she was right on time now, as well. Her driver handed her down from the vehicle, and as she turned to enter the front door of The Sword and Sheath, there stood Cash. If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were twinkling with excitement.

“You’re early,” he stated blandly, extending a hand as propriety demanded, his expression carefully blank.

Pretending to be a proper lady, she rested her hand atop his, feeling his warmth even through their proper gloves. “So are ye,” she pointed out, deciding being proper could go hang. “I suppose each of us are…hungry.”

His lips twitched as he escorted her inside. “Yes, indeed. I find myself quite… dot-dot-dot-hungry. I’ve been dot-dot-dot-hungry since I met you, Raina.”

Raina. Not Miss Prince. Not ma’am. Not even milady. She was able to be herself around this man, and she loved that.

But not him. She couldn’t love him, because of who she was.

Still, with a grin, she winked up at him, even knowing he likely couldn’t see if under the veil she was wearing. “Then shall we find someplace private we could possibly dot-dot-dot-eat?”

He was already leading her toward the steps. “I agree entirely, my dear. I’ve had the liberty of ordering our luncheon delivered to my private room. I hope you don’t mind?”

It was indeed a liberty, and if Raina were here for anything other than a thorough ravishing, she’d be shocked, positively shocked, to her core.

But instead, her grin turned impish. “I thought ye’d never ask. Lead the way, Cash.”

So he did. She’d expected a private sitting room with a dining table, but instead, he led her to a bedchamber, likely the best in the inn. She stood in the doorway and lifted her veil to look around.

There was a dining table in front of the window, with a light repast already set up on it, but it was eclipsed by the large four-poster bed, with a number of fringed pillows, which took up most of the room.

Raina went breathless as soon as her eyes landed on it.

Behind her, she heard the door close, then the lock engage, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t turn when she felt, more than heard, him step up behind her, and she didn’t turn when his breath tickled the sensitive skin under her ear.

“Raina,” he whispered, “I’ve been waiting to have you for weeks. Are you certain?”

She closed her eyes on a quiet moan. “Cash, please—”

She couldn’t manage anything else because her throat had suddenly gone dry.

Then he was in front of her, reaching for her hands. He took his time removing her gloves, pulling each fingertip gently to release them, and she shivered at the exquisite torture.

Intent on his task, he spoke without looking up. “I had planned to feed you first, Raina. Oysters and asparagus and chocolate, and all the other foods a menu might employ to help a man intent on seduction.”

The first glove slipped from her hand, and he tossed it aside as he moved to the other.

“That sounds delicious,” she managed.

“I’m sure it will be. But I’ve discovered I’m too impatient. Please, Raina…” The second glove joined the first, and he twined his fingers through hers and finally met her eyes. “Let me make love to you. Here. Now.”

She grinned. “And save luncheon for later?”

“We’ll need to recuperate our energy, I’m sure.”

Pulling her hands from his, she reached for her buttons, pleased she’d worn a simple gown. “I find your proposition acceptable.”

His grin flashed, and he shrugged out of his jacket.

Their clothing flew in various directions, along with barks of laughter as they realized how ridiculous they were being. But if anything, that only served to fuel their desire. After all, forget oysters…knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him was a much more powerful aphrodisiac.

They fell into bed together, already tangled in one another’s limbs, and Raina realized she was nearly frantic. Over the last weeks, she’d seen and felt his body—not necessarily naked, although yesterday’s adventure in the river, wearing only their underclothing, had been close enough.

There would be time later to explore his body, to marvel at the smooth muscles and taut skin and that glorious vee which led downward from his abdomen, but for now, there was only one thing she wanted to explore.

When her hand closed around his stiff shaft, Cash sucked in a breath, then exhaled on a groan.

“Lord in Heaven, Raina,” he murmured as he dropped his head back against the pillows. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No’ yet,” she whispered, lowering her head so she could brush a kiss against his chest, then lower across his navel.

His hand, holding her hair, curled into a fist.

“Not yet,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “I’m close enough already.” As he spoke, his free hand reached between her legs. “And so are you.”

It was crude. It was rushed. It wasn’t the seduction Ewan’s father had taught her to expect, but the hurried desperation of two people who’d been teased to the brink of bursting. Gasping, Raina shifted her hips forward, thrusting her wet core against his fingers, even as he used his hold on her to bring her breast closer to his mouth.

What was that about being close enough already?

She moaned as he teased first one finger, then a second, inside her, his tongue circling her nipple in an erotic mimicry. And then—St. Columbine help me!—Cash flicked his thumb across her clitoris, and Raina jerked in need.

“Please, Cash!” she panted. “Please!”

He didn’t need any further urging apparently. They both knew this wasn’t a seduction, but a culmination of something they’d both needed for so long. He rolled her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs, and took his long length in his hand. Her hands cupped her breasts, trying to recreate the sensations his tongue had caused.

With one hand braced beside her shoulder, he met her eyes. “Are you sure, Raina?”

In response, she reached up and draped her arms around his neck. “Now, Cash. Please!”

And then he slid home.

They both moaned at the perfection of the sensation, and she felt him exhale in harmony with her. They were still for a moment, and Raina basked in the feeling of being filled by such a remarkable man. It had been so long, and she couldn’t recall the act ever feeling so perfect before.

And then he began to move.

Had she thought it incredible before? Each time he slid out—not quite free, but enough to make her miss him—he’d thrust back into her, and her inner muscles contracted around him in the most glorious way.

She planted her heels against the counterpane and allowed her knees to fall open. From this position, she was able to meet his thrusts, to undulate with him, and judging by his grunts, she knew he appreciated this new position as well.

In fact, it wasn’t long before his breathing became harsher, and she knew he was close. She closed her eyes, willing him to find the pleasure he needed with her body, but he shifted above her, bracing himself on one arm again, even as he continued to thrust. Before she could open her eyes, she felt his hand between their joined bodies, felt his thumb against her clitoris once more. And when he teased it, her muscles contracted, and her orgasm burst over her in a surprising rush of delight.

She heard the moan emerge from her own lips, heard his echo, then felt him withdraw, leaving her empty and still pulsating. She didn’t have time to mourn him, however, because he grasped himself in one fist, his knuckles brushing against her and providing the pressure she still craved, as he spilled his seed into the curls at the junction of her thighs.

Then he collapsed half-beside her, his legs still entwined with hers, the sticky results of their lovemaking binding their skin together. Raina’s body was singing, humming, and she knew she needed more. More of this, more of him.

Luckily, they had all afternoon.

* * *

Cash couldn’t ever remember feeling so…sated.He hadn’t even eaten luncheon, by God, and he didn’t care. He did rather care he’d gone after Raina with no more control or care than a randy lad, but she’d been willing to match him thrust-for-thrust.

Still, it hadn’t been well-done, and he vowed, as soon as he had the energy, he’d make love to her slowly and perfectly, building up her anticipation until she cried out his name.

He grinned lazily against her skin, imagining that.

“I ken I should thank ye.”

Her comment, coming out of the blue like that, surprised him enough to lift his head. “What?”

She was resting against the pillows, looking as boneless as he felt. Languidly, she gestured down her body. “For no’—ye ken. In me.”

He blinked in surprise, glancing down at her curls—a deep red he hadn’t taken nearly enough time to admire earlier—and seeing the evidence of his pleasure. It was a reminder.

As he rolled to the side of the bed and stood, he shrugged. “I know you already had one child out of wedlock and likely don’t need another,” he said as he reached the basin of warm water. He was wringing out a cloth and turning back to her when he saw a flicker of a grimace cross her face. “What?”

She sighed as he joined her on the bed once more, but didn’t object when he began to clean her. He liked how unabashed she was with her body.

It was why he’d suggested this liaison, and why he had further plans.

“I would never trade Ewan, ye understand,” she finally said quietly.

It was the sadness in her tone which jerked Cash’s attention away from his lewd thoughts about future liaisons. He tossed the cloth toward the washstand and crawled up the bed until he could stretch out beside her.

“He’s a fine lad, Raina.”

Her soft smile had a hint of sorrow to it. “I ken it well. And ye have nae idea how happy I’ve been the last few weeks to see him playing with yer boy. Matthew is a brilliant lad and so good with Ewan. He genuinely cares for him, and Ewan craves that attention.”

Before Cash could form a reply, Raina had rolled onto her side to face him, her expression intent. “And seeing ye with him?” She scoffed slightly. “Cash, ye are such a good father. Thank ye for sharing some of yerself with my Ewan.”

To his surprise, Cash found his throat closing with emotion at the intensity of her appreciation. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much it might mean to have someone else—someone besides Matthew—consider him a “good father.” His own sire had spent little time with him, and while his mother had done her best, she’d been focused on attempting to force refinement on his sister in the years since Cash’s first marriage.

But Raina… Raina had noticed, and approved, of how he parented Matthew. And it meant so much to him.

Cash had to clear his throat twice before he could form the words.

“You are welcome,” he said hoarsely. “It’s meant a lot to me to be able to spend time with him, and to see you with Matthew as well.”

Solemnly, she nodded, then dropped her head back to the pillow. “I have three brothers, and they’re all good men, in their own ways. My father too. Ewan is named after him. But none of them have quite made up for the lad no’ having a father and brother. Phin thinks I let him run too wild.”

“Who is Phin?”

She hummed. “Oh, my next-oldest brother. He’s with me here at—in York.”

Cash noticed her stumble, and wondered what she’d been about to reveal.

“And do you? Let Ewan run too wild?”

Her eyes were closed, her fingers idly tracing circles on her bare stomach, but she smiled softly. “Perhaps. Aye. But then, I allow myself too much freedom as well.”

With a teasing growl, Cash rolled atop her, gathering her in his arms. “I like your freedoms!”

Chuckling, she wriggled beneath him until he managed to pull the counterpane over both of them and settled down with his arm around her. “What kinds of freedom do you think are too much, Raina?”

She was still smiling as her eyes closed once more. “I bore a child without the benefit of marriage, Cash,” she reminded him. “My reputation—which was already battered because of my outspoken nature—was ruined after that. I suspect that, were it kenned I took my son and snuck out to cavort by the river with two friends, I would be chastised for that freedom as well. What else?” She hummed. “Oh, and in a recent production where I dressed as a lad, I paired a red waistcoat with a set of blue breeches.”

Because he knew she was teasing, he chuckled, pulling her closer. “An outrageous freedom indeed.”

But inside, his mind was whirling. Was she an actress then? She’d mentioned a production, and actresses enjoyed a certain amount of liberty when it came to their personal actions. He knew many gentlemen back in London who kept actresses as a mistress.

He’d had this suspicion, for a while now, that she was a member of the minor gentry, perhaps a gentleman’s daughter—or even a lord’s by-blow—who’d been led astray by a man who’d abandoned her after she’d become pregnant. But that didn’t match the actress narrative, and the more he thought of it, the more he doubted that scenario as well; Raina wasn’t a woman who would allow a man to hurt her like that.

When she stretched, her toes brushed against his, and he smiled instinctively.

“There are some who might say this is a freedom,” she hummed appreciatively.

“It is indeed.” He rolled so he could throw his free arm across her belly and found he liked the way her fingers rose to touch his forearm. “The freedom to do what we want, when we want. The freedom to be who we want,” he added, thinking of the mound of ducal responsibilities he’d abandoned that afternoon.

Her fingers stroked from his elbow to his wrist, then back again, causing little frissons of delight to climb his arm and settle in his chest.

“And if ye could be anyone, Cash? Who would ye be?”

He answered without hesitation. “Your lover.”

He felt her grin.

But something compelled him to elaborate. “I’d like to be…just Cash. Just here, with you. None of the responsibility, just the chance to be like this.”

She was silent a long moment, her strokes even and gentle, bringing him peace.

“We all have responsibilities. I dinnae need to ken yers to ken ye’ve allowed them to take over yer life. Even Matthew feels it.”

It was true. Before this summer, he’d allowed himself only one afternoon a week with his son and heir.

As if understanding his thoughts, Raina continued, “Maybe all ye need is someone to remind ye to compartmentalize that part of yer life. Ye have responsibilities, but ye can also have fun. Ye can also be just Cash.”

The way he was when he was with her. When he was with her and Ewan and Matthew, all four of them together.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her shoulder. Her lips grazed the top of his head.

“I’d like to stay like this,” he admitted quietly. “Being just Cash.”

Raina didn’t know his full name or his rank or his responsibilities. She saw him as just a man.

“I’d like that as well. But remember, I have an engagement tonight.”

Was engagement another word for a liaison? Or a theatrical performance?

And was Cash…jealous?

“I do as well,” he sighed. “I’ve promised Matthew I’ll find another wife.”

She chuckled, which wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting, if he’d thought about it at all before stupidly blurting out the words.

“Nay, ye dinnae want another wife.”

He lifted his head to frown at her. “I don’t?”

“Nay,” she repeated, moving her soft strokes to his knuckles now, and smiling gently at him. “Because then I cannae do this with ye again.”

His brow twitched. If he married, he would have to end his liaison with her until he could convince her to become his doxy. “Good point. It is more fun to be informal.”

She lifted her hand and pressed his head back against her shoulder, and he didn’t resist. It was delightfully comfortable here, in this bed, in her arms. Instead of inflaming him, as he’d expected, her touch was soothing and exactly what he needed at that moment.

Of course, the bed wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his bed at Cashingham. Could he convince her to join him there someday?

“Informality is essential sometimes.”

Her statement confused him, and he shifted against her as he considered it. “In what way?” he murmured.

“Formality grants power,” she explained, moving her gentle strokes up his arm once more. “A power over one another, but most usually, a power over the female.”

Ah.

“Even with all the laws being discussed lately, allowing for a woman to own her own property?”

She pinched him lightly. “I should’ve kenned ye’d be involved in one of the Houses. Nay, dinnae tell me which one, we’ve kept our relationship informal up until now.” In other words, she didn’t want to know if he was a titled lord. “But aye, even with those laws in place. A woman is a reflection of her husband, and her husband’s moods.”

He was silent for a long while as he digested her words…and their meaning. Finally, he tightened his hold on her. “Is that what happened with Ewan’s father?”

Her only response was a slight hum, and he decided to push her further.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

When she shrugged a bit too nonchalantly, he was almost dislodged. “What is there to tell? I thought I was in love with him, and he was verra handsome. But by the time I realized I was pregnant, I’d also realized what kind of man he was.”

This was enough of a surprise that Cash lifted his head again to frown down at her. “What happened?”

Raina turned her head so she was staring at the window when she answered. “He did what he thought was the honorable thing and proposed marriage. I told him I had nae interest in yoking myself to a bully who used his power to hurt others. He gave me a black eye. I pointed out he was proving my point, and we parted.”

Her tone was far too nonchalant, and the way she told of his abuse had Cash sucking in a breath. But he considered his words before he spoke.

“All this time…I assumed you had been abandoned by Ewan’s father.”

A laugh burst out of her, and she sat up, dislodging him. The laugh hadn’t been entirely joyful, but it wasn’t hopeless either. At least she was meeting his eyes now as she patted his arm.

“Rather, let us say I abandoned him. I ken what I want out of my life, Cash, and I can imagine what it’s like to be married to a man who doesnae love me. Did ye love yer wife?”

The question struck him as surely as a blade, and he reared back. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. Did ye love Matthew’s mother?”

He blinked and shifted in the bed, resting his forearms across his legs, more for a chance to think than because he was uncomfortable. No, he was already missing her touch.

“I…cared for her. She was a local girl, and I thought we would suit.”

“Did ye?”

It had been almost ten years since Amanda’s death, but he tried to remember their time together. Shrugging, he admitted, “Well enough, I suppose. We were married only a year. As I recall, she seemed much more interested in being a—” He bit down on the word duchess. “Well, she seemed more interested in making use of my assets than in me.”

“And ye were interested in only her assets as a wife and mother, eh?” She nudged him. “She gave ye an heir.”

He hated to admit it, but she was right. He and Amanda had had a marriage like many others in Society: she had married him to become a duchess, and he had married her to beget the next Duke of Cashingham. There was nothing wrong with that, but he could suddenly see where it might, perhaps, be lacking.

He had a choice here. He could be affronted, or he could recognize Raina’s point—and therefore her life choices—had merit.

Slowly, he nodded. “We suited, but no, I didn’t love her. I like to think there were merits to being my wife, but I can see how you might not think so.”

“Nay!”

Suddenly, she was kneeling in front of him, her palms on his cheeks, holding him steady so she could look into his eyes. God in Heaven, but she was magnificent with those beautiful red curls falling down around her pale breasts.

“Nay, Cash,” she repeated, softer. “Whoever ye are, whatever role ye fulfill or title ye carry, remember this: as a man, ye are worth more. Ye are worth all the merit in the world.” Her serious expression softened as her thumbs gently caressed his cheeks. “If a woman ever found herself lucky enough to be loved by ye, she should insist on marrying ye.”

Slowly, she grinned and lowered her lips to his.

As he wrapped his arms around her and fell back against the pillows, half his mind was on the kiss, and the other on her words. Marry? When she’d just been speaking of informal liaisons? No, she’d only mentioned marriage in conjunction with love.

All he knew was, he needed this woman in his life. Doxy wasn’t the right word for her; she was a strong-minded woman who knew what she wanted—needed—from life, and wasn’t afraid to let Society’s rules get in her way. But could he convince her to become his mistress? To do this more often?

“Cash,” she murmured, her lips finding the skin of his neck. “I can tell when ye’re distracted.”

He was, wasn’t he? Chuckling, he tugged at her until she was mounted atop him, her glorious red hair falling like a curtain around them as she grinned down at him. Her hands were planted on either side of his shoulders, and her plump breasts were close enough to cup. He loved how she was all curves, her body softened by motherhood and enjoyment of life. She was no young debutante—like whichever virgin the blasted Lady Fangfoss was going to toss his way that evening—but a flesh-and-blood woman who wasn’t afraid to take her pleasure.

Just thinking of that pleasure had his cock stirring against the cleft of her arse.

His gaze on her breasts, Cash settled his hands on her thighs, his fingers inches from her curls. “I was just thinking of luncheon,” he murmured, lying.

She hummed speculatively, shifting backward so their bodies were more closely aligned. “Ye’re hungry, are ye?”

They had all afternoon.

He pulled her toward him. As their lips met, he growled, “For you? Always.”