Rules for Heiresses by Amalie Howard

Seventeen

Courtland glared at his wife as they stood toe-to-toe in her dressing room, her face resolute, and his wreathed in anger and frustration. The argument about her involvement had not waned from the study earlier that evening, all through dinner, and it now threatened to go well into retiring hours. He dismissed Colleen, who had just finished brushing her mistress’s shining curls into some semblance of submission, and stared at his wife through the mirror above her dresser.

“Ravenna, Sommers is much too dangerous.”

“I agree,” she replied mildly. “Which is why you need my help to speed things along and get him out of our hair as quickly as possible. I’m the last person Sommers will suspect of being involved. And he…desires me.”

Courtland’s fingers clenched at his sides. Oh, he’d seen the gluttonous looks Sommers had sent his wife. He’d had to remind himself to focus on the greater goal of incarcerating Sommers, but having that brute get anywhere near Ravenna made Courtland’s blood boil.

“No. This is absurd. You’re a civilian, a woman.”

His wife sent him a cool stare. “Lady Waterstone is a female.”

“She’s a trained operative. You are—”

“A useless heiress?” Ravenna interjected. “A vapid henwit who should only worry about her soirees, her needlepoint, and her pianoforte? Yes, yes, I know exactly what society expects me to be, Courtland, but that’s not me. I cannot stand by while a disgusting excuse for a man treats human beings like they’re nothing. If I don’t act when I have the power to do so, then that makes me complicit.”

He shook his head, frustrated and unable to refute her admirable argument. It was one of the things he loved about her—how fiercely devoted she was, from befriending an islander on the streets of Antigua to going after a dangerous blackguard who threatened her family. She was passionate about everything she touched. “That’s not what I mean. If the countess is in danger, she can get herself out of it. She signed up for that. You did not.”

“I’m signing up now. I can shoot a pistol, wield a sword, and defend myself, if need be. I can handle Sommers.”

The name was a fan to his fury. Ravenna had no idea what Sommers was capable of, and it wasn’t just murder. He had a perverse enjoyment for cruelty, especially toward women. Courtland could not—would not—expose his wife to that, no matter how capable or daring she was. The thought of her in danger left him cold. If anything happened to her…

“I forbid you to do this.”

A pair of sparking eyes drilled into his. “You forbid me?”

“I am your husband, damn you, and it’s my right. You vowed to obey, remember?”

She lifted a brow. “I’ll obey a reasonable man, Courtland, and right now, you’re not being reasonable.”

Ravenna rose and turned to face him, her body draped in nearly transparent lawn and lace. He was too agitated to appreciate how perfectly her body was limned by the low light of the candelabra on her bedside table. Normally, the sight of her long legs, trim waist, and the luscious curves of her breasts would send him into instant arousal, but Courtland tried to keep a firm hold on his libido. She wasn’t getting out of their spat so easily.

“And besides,” she went on, closing the distance between them and making the embers of lust spark in his veins, “you’ve insisted time and time again that this marriage is doomed, so I don’t think we have to worry about the vows, do we?”

“I’m in no mood for games, Ravenna,” he grunted, her nearness and heady scent serving to distract him—the king of reason and good sense himself—from even forming a logical reply. “You’re not doing this and that’s final.”

“Our safety is not a game.”

“I mean it. The answer is no.”

“Very well, Duke,” she replied and then turned toward her bed, affording him a wonderful view of her rounded buttocks before she blew out her candle, and then they were shrouded in darkness.

Courtland barely registered the creaking noise of the bed and the rustle of her blankets as she situated herself. Wait, did his headstrong, unruly wife just capitulate to his demands? Frowning, he blinked. And also, did she get into bed while he was still standing there?

He approached the side of the bed, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, to make out her female shape right in the middle of the bedclothes. “What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep.”

“We were talking,” he said.

“You were talking,” she replied, the slight rasp in her voice adding to the sexual desire flooding his body at the tantalizing sight of her body in the middle of the mattress. “I was finished. And unless you intend to join me here in bed and do things while not talking, I’d rather discuss this tomorrow.”

He blinked. Did she just make an indecent proposition?

His swelling cock went fully hard, but instead of doing what his body so obviously wanted and accepting what she’d so casually offered, Courtland stepped back. And then back again until he was a safe enough distance away, at least to stop himself from diving groin-first into his wife’s body. Sex wouldn’t solve anything.

“There’ll be no discussion tonight or tomorrow,” he ground out.

And then he left. Because he could not take one more second of her alluring scent.

Or the sight of her in that goddamned bed.

Or the echo of her husky invitation.

Courtland stormed into his own chamber and slammed the connecting door, meeting the alarmed eyes of Peabody, who approached him as one would a skittish and very unpredictable horse. He said nothing as the valet removed the coat from his shoulders and then the rest of his upper layers of clothing, ending with yanking off his boots. Tearing his shirt over his head, Courtland sighed.

“Shall I run you a bath, Your Grace?”

“Yes,” he said, hoping it would do the trick.

But the only trick was the one played on him as he lay in the hot water and was plagued with erotic thoughts of his wife just beyond the door that led into her chamber. Despite his anger at her refusal to listen, his fevered imaginings tortured him. She tempted him to folly. Courtland had never met anyone who could slip under his ironclad control so easily.

He washed himself quickly, groaning when the cloth passed over his aching groin. Relieving himself wouldn’t hurt—at least then he’d be able to think. Discarding the cloth, he reached beneath the surface of the water and fisted his engorged length, hissing at the contact. He stroked from the root to crown in hard, purposeful strokes. A guttural sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes, imagining it was his wife’s delectable body that clasped him…her wet, silky depths that sheathed him, taking him deep.

“Fuck, Ravenna.”

A strangled gasp made his eyes fly open.

And there she stood in that indecent night rail, like a sprite come to tempt his sorry heart. Hooded copper eyes burned into him. They fell to his lap, where his hand gripped his staff. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as her stare lifted to entangle with his. Not a single word was exchanged, and yet, a thousand things were said in that single glance. Courtland watched with bated breath as one elegant hand lifted and went to the ribbons at her throat.

His cock swelled impossibly when the ties released and the neckline went slack, displaying the full curve of one breast. She did not stop there, however. No, his brazen bride stepped into the bathing chamber and shut the door behind her. Eyes bright, they held his, daring him to tell her to leave. But Courtland could barely breathe, much less speak as her fingers drifted to her hem, tugging the fabric up inch by torturous inch. With a deft movement, she dragged the night rail over her shoulders and discarded it to the floor.

He took in a clipped breath at the uncovered beauty that greeted him.

Heavens, she was exquisite.

Miles and miles of gorgeous blush-infused skin met his hungry gaze, from the tops of her graceful shoulders, past the plump curves of her breasts tipped with rosy, taut nipples, to her gently flaring hips and long, slender legs. His avid gaze fastened to the fiery patch of curls at the apex of her thighs and a smile tilted his lips. She was fire, his wife.

Fire and perfection and salvation.

Courtland held his breath as she closed the distance between them, until she stood right in front of him before sitting on the lip of the bath. A sultry, wicked smile curved her pink lips. “You summoned me, Duke?”

“You weren’t meant to hear that.”

Her hand slid through the water, her gaze dipping to where he held himself like his cock was his deliverance. “Do you wish me to leave?”

Whatever incoherent reply he’d been about to make was smothered by the feel of her slim fingers wrapping over his. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Teach me to please you.”

With a groan, Courtland gave in and slid his palm down, squeezing his stiff rod, and almost growling when she interlaced her fingers with his to mimic his movements. Before long, his own hand fell to the side as she worked him up and down. Her thumb slid over the head of him, and he could barely hold back the needy thrust of his hips.

“Do you like that?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Yes.”

She twisted her fingers on the downstroke, nearly making him growl and pump into her fist. “How about this?”

He let out a sighing snarl. “That too.”

When he felt his body starting to respond to her teasing strokes, he reached over to grasp her around the waist, dragging her into the water with him. Courtland swallowed her gasp with his mouth, his lips claiming hers with a ferocity that stunned them both, even as her hips settled over his. His tongue teased hers, drawing it into his mouth. He suckled and tasted every inch of hers, learned the places that made her moan and arch into him…the roof of her mouth, the inside of her lower lip, the tip of her tongue.

“What do you do to me?” he bit out, breaking from her.

“The same you do to me.” Her fingers threaded through his wet hair, those singular eyes on his, molten and wanting. She tugged, a devious smile on her lips. “Kiss me again, Duke.”

He acquiesced with a grin of his own, taking her sweet lips in a hard kiss she wouldn’t soon forget. With a moan, Ravenna twisted in his arms so that her beaded nipples brushed against his chest. Her searching hand found his length again, jutting up at her hip. His duchess was a quick study, pumping him to perfection with the perfect amount of pressure, but he wanted more than her hands. He wanted inside her.

Courtland broke the hungry kiss, setting his hands to her waist and lifting her up so that she settled over his throbbing cock, knees on either side of him. “Take me this way,” he breathed. “Ease me into you.”

Her heavy-lidded eyes widened. “Here, in the bath?”

“Yes.”

“Is that done?” she asked, brow pleating.

Hell, he loved how innocent she was. “Trust me, this bath is the best place for all the filthy things I’m planning to do to you,” he murmured, delighting in the radiant flush suffusing her wet skin. “Besides, I thought you liked adventure?”

She fought to the last. “I’m not sure about this. Wouldn’t the bed be more comfortable?”

Instead of answering with words, Courtland canted his hips, feeling the tip of his cock brush the hot heart of her. Ravenna’s lips parted when his thick crown prodded the tiny bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. “Oh.” She breathed out, spine arching. “I suppose this can work.”

Chuckling, he shifted against her, their slick flesh meeting and rubbing, the warm water providing an added level of sensation between them.

“Guide me in, love,” he whispered.

Ravenna lifted her pelvis, notching the head of him to her entrance, and then she sank down. Courtland had never felt anything so gratifying in his entire life as the silken feel of his wife’s body swallowing him inch by heated inch. When she was fully seated, they both groaned from the exquisite friction.

“Bloody hell, you were made for me.” His eyes met hers as he fought a primal urge to thrust upward. “Are you well? Still want the bed?”

Eyes promising retribution for his teasing, his wife grasped his shoulders and rolled her hips, pushing up onto her knees resting on the floor of the bath on either side of him. Her passage clung to him and when he was nearly all the way out, she let gravity do the work. Her body hurtled down, taking him deep. A groan ripped from his chest.

She looked like a sybarite perched on top of him, a sensual smile curling her lips, her face flushed with pleasure. Fuck if she wasn’t the most sublime sight he’d ever seen. Her heavy breasts hung at mouth level, their nipples hard and rosy. Courtland lifted her to take one pebbled peak into his mouth, sucking hard and drawing an agonized whimper from her.

“The taste of you,” he whispered. “I could devour every sweet morsel of you.”

He turned his attention to the other breast, filling his palms with the globes of her rounded arse. The water sloshed with their movements, and soon, there was only the sound of their mingled breaths and the soft splash of the water in the bath as she rode him. His orgasm built at the base of his spine as she rocked against him, but he needed to see her get there first. He wanted to see her beautiful face when the paroxysm took her over the edge.

Courtland slid a hand in between their wet bodies and rubbed his thumb against the knot of nerves, relishing the gasping moans falling from her lips. Her movements turned jerky as she chased her pleasure. “That’s it, Duchess. Take what’s yours.”

Head thrown back in ecstasy, a flush climbing her porcelain neck into her cheeks, his duchess did as she was bid and shattered around him with a cry, his name a silent scream on her lips. Courtland had never seen anything so fucking perfect in all his life. Moments later, he found his own release with a hoarse cry, jerking out of her still pulsating channel to spend in the bathwater and clutching her toward him.

Breathing hard, Ravenna collapsed in a heap against his chest. He stroked the length of her back with his fingers, marveling at her impossibly soft skin. After a while, he felt himself soften and slip from the notch of her body. He reached for the cloth, breaking the comfortable silence when he drew it down her back and up her arms.

“That was…educational,” his wife whispered.

A chuckle broke from him as he worked the cloth in small circles. “And exceedingly practical, don’t you think?”

“I had no idea one could…well, perform one’s marital duty that way.”

She peered up at him, and he gave her a lusty smile. “It is an act that can be enjoyed in many places. Even outside, in the ocean, if one so desires.”

“In the ocean? You must be joking!”

“Oh, my sweet innocent I have so many wonderful things to teach you,” he said, tilting her chin up for a quick kiss. “Wait until we do it outside and in broad daylight.”

* * *

A sated and intensely curious Ravenna goggled at him, unable to grasp that men and women coupled in public. “You’re jesting with me.”

“I look forward to corrupting you anywhere and anytime you let me, Your Grace.”

“But how?” she blurted out and then flushed. He must think her impossibly naive, though she could not fathom how they could do this outside or in the ocean.

Courtland sat her up, the cloth briskly moving over her limp body. “Sitting, like this,” he said. “Perhaps on a bench in the arbor with you straddling me, much as you are now.” His hands moved down each leg, past the bend of her knee to her sensitive calves. “Or standing, with these gorgeous limbs wrapped around my waist while I take you up against a tree or a garden wall.”

She blinked, the lewd images he was painting assaulting her. The sailors had all nattered on about the act itself, not really places, so she’d only imagined it occurring in their private berths, behind closed doors, in the dead of night. The thought of Courtland taking her in such a bold manner had her body tightening with need again.

Goodness, she was turning into a wanton.

“Here, let me,” she said, taking the cloth from him.

Ravenna returned his care in silence, marveling at the breadth of his shoulders that nearly dwarfed the large tub, and the bronzed expanse of wet skin. She had the sudden urge to lick the place where his neck met his collarbone so she did. That wasn’t nearly enough so she worked her way up to his clean-shaven jaw. A part of her missed the thick stubble. He’d obviously been groomed to within an inch of his life by a dedicated Peabody. Ravenna snorted a giggle—the poor valet must have been beside himself with joy.

She bit Courtland’s chin, grazing her questing fingertips over his skin. “I liked your whiskers.”

“Did you?”

Heat filled her cheeks. “I had such depraved thoughts.”

“Tell me about them.”

Ravenna hid her hot face in the crook of his neck. “I imagined how they would feel between my thighs.”

She felt that part of him jerk to life beneath her at the bald admission.

“Already?” she asked on a breathy sigh.

“Always around you, it seems.” She gave a soft shiver, and he peered down at her. “Shall I refill the tub with more hot water, my duchess?”

Torn, Ravenna bit her lip. While she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the pleasures of her husband’s touch and body in the bath, the very pleasant interlude they’d shared didn’t change the fact that she was still cross with him. Or that they needed to clear the air.

“As tempting as the thought is, we need to talk.” With reluctance, she lifted herself out of the cooling water and reached for a nearby length of toweling.

Unfathomable eyes watched her as she dried herself and pulled her night rail over her head. It wasn’t much of a covering, but it was better than being naked, especially when the look in his gaze made her want to do unspeakable things. She folded her arms over her chest and took a seat in the chair. With a long-suffering look, Courtland followed her example and stepped out of the bath. Despite her very satisfied needs, Ravenna couldn’t help gawking.

Water cascaded from his shoulders, all the way down the stacked muscles of his back to the lean indents at the base of his spine. The muscles in his bottom flexed as he bent to dry himself, giving her an unobstructed view of the impressive part of him that had brought her to such bliss. Even at half-mast, it made her breath hitch and a fresh surge of arousal course through her veins. Ravenna blushed and busied herself with the ribbons on the edge of her night rail. Licking his very delicious frame from head to toe was not an option.

She’d come to find him because she hadn’t been able to sleep, and while their passionate joining had taken the edge off, the mountain between them would only grow. She waited until she heard the rustle of clothing and groaned when she saw him leaning against the wall. The black silk robe he’d donned hung loose and barely covered his front.

“Don’t you have a nightshirt?” she asked, averting her eyes from the bronze vee of his chest and the dark hair that arrowed downward to more interesting pastures.

“I sleep in the nude.”

Ravenna swallowed as her cheeks went hot. She’d walked right into that one. Well, now she had that image to contend with when she was in her own bed. She would simply have to dress him in nightclothes in her dreams. Maybe even full evening wear, just to be safe…and a greatcoat. Perhaps two.

She bit her lip hard and cleared her throat. “I know you’re afraid for me with Sommers, but I will be in good hands. Even if I found myself at a disadvantage where I couldn’t take care of myself, neither you, nor Embry, or even Waterstone would let something happen to me.”

“Sommers is not a good man.”

She nodded. “I know. But he’s also smart. If you go after him too obviously, he will see through the ruse and you’ll never catch him. This is how I can help. He’s the sort of man who thinks women are only good for the use of their bodies, not their minds. If I can steer him to use your ship, chances are he will think it’s his own idea.”

Ravenna risked a look at her husband’s expression. He seemed conflicted, his features twisted in some sort of visible distress, but he was quiet. He was thinking and when his reply came, it was quiet. “If something happens to you…”

She stood and walked over to him, placing her hands on his forearms. A muscle in his cheek flexed, his dark eyes shadowed with indecision and what looked like real fear. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Courtland. Let me do this. I want to do this. A man like that deserves to pay for his crimes.”

“You don’t understand.” He let out a breath, face working in agony. “If something happened to you, it would… I wouldn’t…” He trailed off with a vicious snarl and wrenched out of her grip, stalking toward the doorway to his bedchamber.

“You wouldn’t what?”

He halted without looking back at her. His voice was the softest and yet the harshest she’d ever heard it, scraping along her nerves with ruthless precision. “You will not interfere in my affairs. You will conduct yourself as my duchess and no more. If I have to restrain you from doing something foolish and lock you in this house, Ravenna, I will do so without a qualm.”

Shock blazed through her. “You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will.” Body rigid, he was resolute. As cold as stone. “Are we clear?”

Everything inside of her rebelled at the mandate, but firing back at him would do no good in this instance. “As clear as Venetian crystal, Your Grace.”