Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (26 page)

Entwined, they moved as one. With each deep thrust she felt Derek push against the mouth of her womb, and she cried out his name, rising up wildly to meet him, wanting to belong to him, to be branded by him in their lovers’ dance, knowing that this one time might be her only chance to love him completely. Within moments she spiraled into a floating ecstasy of earth-shattering sensation, feeling him thrust one last time as his own shuddering release forced his seed into her womb.

And she wept.

D
erek watched Lucy as she lay sleeping, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the incredibly long lashes that rested on her cheek, the long, silky hair that spilled across the sheets. She sighed and rolled toward him, and the sheet fell away, revealing her soft, luscious body. His cock swelled and he groaned.

Unable to deny himself, he traced the curve of her breast. He brushed over her nipple, and when she shivered against his fingertips, he felt a powerful rush of lust that settled in his groin, adding to the already heavy ache of his stiffening arousal.

Leaning in close, he licked the soft nipple, watching as it too stiffened. His mouth closed over it, and he sucked and nibbled, gently, at first, but then greedily as Lucy began to moan and rub her breasts against him. He nuzzled them, squeezing them together and flicking his tongue back and forth across their velvety tips, pausing only to draw one nipple into his mouth or to dip his tongue into the crevice between them.

He slid his fingers into the soft, damp curls below and traced along the silken seam to check her readiness, finding the same wonderful, wet heat that always greeted him. Lucy moaned and moved against his hand, and he smiled.

Rolling over onto his back, he pulled her with him, atop him, and drew up her knees so that she was straddling him. His cock leaped toward her, pushing against her, seeking her slick heat. He lifted her bottom and began to slide her up and down over his thick erection until they were both gasping.

Fully awake now, Lucy positioned him, closing her eyes as she lowered herself, filling herself with him. She drew back and he groaned, and then thrust into her, holding her to him while he began a rhythm that she immediately took over. Within minutes her breaths turned into gasps as her orgasm began, an orgasm that seemed to go on and on as Derek continued to move against her, holding her tightly to him until he thrust deeply into her as his own climax exploded.

It was moments before either was able to speak. Finally, Derek said, “If we don’t get out of bed now, we never will. What do you think? Shall we just stay here all day? We could send for food.”

Lucy covered her face and rolled away from him. “Absolutely not! I’d die of embarrassment if people thought . . . ”

“You mean if people
knew.”
He grinned at her mortification and ran his finger lightly along the curve of her hip. Her hair was like rumpled silk against the sheets, and he resisted the temptation to slip his hands into it, knowing that if he did, passion would strike again.

He would never get enough of her. She’d been an innocent, and yet she made love to him with a complete lack of restraint, eagerly returning in kind everything he initiated, and through her wonderment and unabashed enjoyment, he’d found a new zest for lovemaking, an eagerness that came more from the giving of pleasure than from the taking.

But it wasn’t just the sex. He delighted in every aspect of her company, so much so, he hadn’t been able to tear himself away to visit Stephen. Each morning he planned to go, but he always found a reason to stay at Stonecrest with Lucy.

Now it had been a week, and his lack of responsibility toward Stephen made him feel guilty, but not, evidently, guilty enough to make the trip. It was ridiculous. London was but a two-hour ride; he’d be back before nightfall. Yet the fact remained that he didn’t want to be away from her, and he was surprised by that admission.

He thought of the women he’d known intimately. For the most part, he hadn’t bothered to learn anything about them. He’d gotten to know a few of them better, his fiancée Pamela included in those, but he couldn’t remember ever wondering what Pamela was thinking. He’d never discussed anything important with her, never asked for her opinion. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he’d seen her as little more than his possession, to be enjoyed when he felt like it or taken out and shown off.

With Lucy he was different. He wanted to know everything she thought, everything she felt. And he didn’t want to leave her at Stonecrest while he went to London.

If only she would go with him . . . but he could never ask that of her. She’d no doubt be dismissed by even the lowliest member of London society, and he didn’t want to see her shamed.

There was only one thing to do. He would send a note off to Stephen asking him to come to Stonecrest. When their business concluded, he would tell Lucy the truth about the masquerade and his identity, and he could only hope she cared enough about their future together to forgive him his deception.

There was one small deception he needed to clear up right now, though, if only because he couldn’t trust Chelton to keep his mouth shut about the business, and he didn’t want Lucy to find out from anyone but him.

He snuggled up to her and nuzzled her ear. “You haven’t fallen back asleep, have you?” he murmured, giving in to the temptation to continue a trail of kisses along her slender neck.

She rolled to face him, her eyes lit up by her soft smile. “Why? Did you have other plans?” Her hand drifted to his chest, and she lazily traced downward. When her hand dipped below his waist, he groaned and captured it, placing it back on his chest. Eyes lowered, she began again.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he teased. “It’s not that I wouldn’t love to, but I have something important to tell you.”

Lucy’s fingers stilled at his words.
This is it. He’s going to tell me he’s leaving for America . . . and what if he doesn’t ask me to go with him?

Her thought shocked her. She’d never actually considered going to America with him, at least not until this very moment, but she suddenly knew she
would
go if he asked her, and she marveled at the way her feelings for him could change in one short week. It would be painful to leave England and Stonecrest, but it would be unbearable to remain behind without him.

“Go ahead,” she said, struggling to maintain an even tone.

He gathered her in his arms and said nothing for a long moment, obviously looking for a way to begin. Then he said, “I’m sure you can understand that privateering trips aren’t always profitable. They can be quite the opposite if your holds aren’t filled with cargo.” She felt his glance, but she didn’t lift her head from his chest, wanting to be able to hide her expression if she needed to.

“As I was preparing to sail, one of my customers backed out, leaving me with a large space to fill. As it happened, I’d already been contacted by someone looking for space. I hadn’t planned to take his cargo, but when I could find no one else, I agreed to accommodate him.”

He hesitated, took a breath, and said, “That man was your uncle, and his cargo was your wheat.”

His words were so unexpected that Lucy couldn’t think for a moment, and then relief coursed through her. She had completely forgotten about the wheat, and had she thought of it, she would have come up with a hundred excuses to defend his actions. She could no longer reconcile her previous conclusions of his character with the man she had come to know. She’d be more inclined to think Stephen had fabricated the story than to believe Derek would intentionally take what was hers for profit.

“Did it fetch a good price?” she asked lightly, fortified by the temporary reprieve from the heartbreaking news she feared. If Derek didn’t announce his departure today, then that was one more day he would be with her. Nothing else mattered.

He tipped up her chin to look into her eyes. “You’re not angry with me? I put my share of the profits into your account, but still, it should have been your decision.”

She shook her head, unable to speak for a moment for fear of weeping, and then said softly, “No, I’m not angry with you. My uncle had already taken the wheat; you had no part in that. If I had to choose another person who would profit, I would choose you.”

“Lucy . . . ”

She gasped at the tenderness he folded into that one word and tears sprang to her eyes. Derek brushed a finger across her lashes, causing the tears to spill. He clasped her to him and when he spoke, his voice was thick with the emotion she’d seen in his eyes.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but whatever it is, I want to go on doing it for the rest of my life.”

Lucy caught her breath at the words that held such promise, and she wished she had the courage to ask him his plans. She knew he would tell her the truth, but she was so terrified of his answer, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. He would tell her when he was ready, just as she would tell him about losing the baby when she was ready—if he asked her to return with him. Otherwise, there would be no point.

B
reakfast had been long and leisurely, but Lucy said she had tenants to call on, and Derek looked forward to driving her. First, though, he wanted to pen that quick note to Stephen. He shuffled the items sitting atop Lucy’s writing desk, finding a pen and ink but no paper.

“What are you looking for?” Lucy asked as she finished lacing her slipper.

“Paper. I have business to settle with Stephen, but I can’t seem to force myself into Town. I’m hoping he’ll be amenable to visiting me here.”

“Check the drawer. There should be paper inside.”

A quick search revealed a few sheets of stationery, and Derek took one. As he lifted it from the drawer, something oddly familiar caught his eye. He moved a paper to uncover the rest of Stephen’s calling card. He stared at it, trying to remember a time when Stephen had presented it to Lucy.

He looked up at Lucy. “Where did this come from?” he asked, holding up the card.

Lucy started toward him, eyes squinted on the object he held out. Her face began to draw color.

“Stephen left it when he came to call, just before you returned. I meant to tell you.”

“Stephen?”

“H-he insisted I call him by his given name. As he said, he’s as close to you as a brother.”

The seed of jealousy that Derek felt the moment he saw Stephen’s card tucked away in a private place seemed to sprout and spread as quickly as Lucy’s blush, and just as quickly he squelched it. He started to put the card away but noticed writing on the back of it, recognizing at once directions from Stonecrest to Stephen’s house in London. “Were you planning to visit him?” His voice sounded odd, even to him.

Lucy laughed, a bit shakily. “No, he was just being kind, giving me directions should I need to send a messenger, in case I worried about your return.”

She started toward him. “Derek, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Derek shoved the card back into the drawer, his action uncovering another piece of Lucy’s stationery. Stephen’s name was written on it. Picking up the sheet, he read aloud, “Dear Stephen, Derek has returned,” which was all the unfinished note said. He looked up at Lucy with a questioning lift of his brow, trying to remain calm even as his heart began to pound.

“I-I promised him I would write to let him know when you returned, but as you see, I never finished the note.”

“Why would you do that? Didn’t you expect me to get in touch with him?” He knew something wasn’t quite right—Lucy was too nervous—but he refused to give in to the suspicion that she may have been unfaithful to him. He had promised himself, and Lucy, even if she didn’t know it, that he wouldn’t let jealousy do his thinking for him. Still, he couldn’t help himself as he scanned the drawer for other evidence.

His eyes lit on another note, with scrawled handwriting that
could
be Stephen’s if he’d written it in a hurry, and Derek pulled out the note. It was wrapped around a packet of seeds or herbs.

“Derek, don’t! Please, let me explain.” Lucy’s face was stark with fear, and Derek felt driven to read the message.

Confusion, shock, and then rage, almost blinding in its fury, swept through Derek. He was reading instructions for getting rid of an unborn child.
His
child. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, but the proof was burning its presence into his fingers.

Lucy hadn’t suffered a miscarriage, as the midwife had said. She had
caused
it. He turned to fully face her, note in hand. “Exactly what did you want to tell me? That you killed my child?”

Lucy’s hand flew to her heart. “No! I had a miscarriage. I didn’t tell you because—”

“Ah, yes, a miscarriage. That’s what the midwife told me, but I can see she didn’t have all the facts.”

“No, it’s not like that. I d-did miscarry, but not because of that. I wanted the baby, Derek; I truly did, at least after I recovered from the shock. Mrs. Sutton said it happens sometimes—”

“Did she?” Derek asked, his clipped voice as hard as steel. “Then would you explain why these herbs are in your drawer?”

“You can’t think . . . you must know I could never . . . Bridget gave that to me. She thought I was unhappy about the baby, but you can’t think . . . ”

Derek stood completely still, his pulse roaring in his ears, as he forced himself to take an even breath. The blush of color on Lucy’s face was gone, leaving her deathly pale. Would an innocent woman behave this way, be so afraid, look so guilty?

“I don’t know what to think. I hardly know you, do I? Secret notes to another man, directions to his house, and now this.” He grit his teeth as he stared at the offensive herbs, trying to force himself to think logically, but found he could not. He hurled the packet at the wall and then grabbed the notes and card out of Lucy’s drawer. “You won’t mind if I borrow these,” he said as he stuffed them into his pocket. “They may come in handy when I talk to Stephen.”

He spun on his heel, finally giving in to the suspicion that shouted out at him. She was alerting Stephen to his return, and he could think of only one reason why she would do such a thing. The venomous hand of jealousy squeezed his heart when he realized the midwife had not said how far along Lucy had been. Before he could put voice to his thought, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Come,” Derek barked, and the door opened hesitantly. A flustered Bridget took one step into the room. Under Derek’s vehement stare, she dropped her gaze.

“I have a message for Lady Louisa, and the man said he was to wait for an answer.”