Sally MacKenzie Bundle (152 page)
Read Sally MacKenzie Bundle Online
Authors: Sally MacKenzie
“Mmm.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She smoothed her fingers over the hair on his stomach. Words were beyond her abilities at the moment.
David ran his hand up and down her side. “Where were you going to take the stagecoach if I hadn’t found you?”
“London.” She licked his skin. Mmm. Salty. “To Aunt Kate.” She pressed herself closer. She would like to do what they’d just done again.
“I doubt she’s there. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but when you were packing and leaving with your father, my uncle and your aunt were…having a frank and thorough discussion.”
“Oh?”
“Like the frank and thorough discussion we just had.”
“Oh.” Aunt Kate had done…this? Surely she was too old.
“Alex left Motton’s estate shortly before I did to procure a special license. He and your aunt are probably married and on their honeymoon now.”
“Aunt Kate didn’t wait for me?” She should feel offended—would feel offended when she could feel anything beyond this overwhelming languor.
“Well, they were in a bit of a hurry. Your aunt is carrying Alex’s child.”
That news broke through her lassitude. She sat up.
“What?!”
“Your aunt is going to be a mother.” He cupped her breast, stroked it. “And my uncle is going to be a father.”
“Oh.” David’s touch felt so good; it was completely distracting. She should think about her aunt, but later. Now desire curled low in her stomach; the sore spot between her legs started to throb.
Could
they do what they’d just done again?
Another thought managed to drift through her heated consciousness.
“If I hadn’t run away, I’d probably be at church now.”
David leaned forward and licked her nipple. “I’m glad you’re not.”
“So am I.” She arched her back, trying to encourage him to keep doing what he was doing. For the first time since she’d reached womanhood she wasn’t embarrassed by her breasts. She was almost proud of them. She frowned. “I do hope Papa spoke to John.”
David pulled her onto his chest. “Stop worrying. Parker-Roth’s a grown man. He should have realized he didn’t have your love.” He cradled her head and kissed her very thoroughly. “Frankly, your passion would have been wasted on him.”
“And it’s not wasted on you?”
“Of course not. I made you groan, didn’t I?”
She grinned down at him, mischief in her eyes again. “I’m not so certain you did.”
David’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? I had you writhing and moaning.”
“Ah, but was I groaning? Moaning, yes, I’ll grant you moaning. But groaning…I’m not so certain.”
David shrugged, causing his skin to slide in a very delightful way across her nipples. They peaked at once—and the bold man noticed. His hand came up to play with one hard nub.
“I see you are a difficult woman, Lady Dawson. And I, being the gentleman I am, do not wish to dispute a lady—especially my lady wife. I will concede to you this time.” His thumb pressed on her nipple, and she drew in a sharp breath. “What is my penalty?”
“That was an easy question to answer. She knew exactly what she wanted. “You must do what you just did—everything you just did.”
“Everything?” He pressed her nipple again, and she felt his touch all the way to her womb. “You mean from the time your lovely back first hit this not-so-lovely mattress?”
“Yes.” Grace smiled in anticipation. She wiggled slightly and felt a specific part of him grow. “Everything.”
David grinned. “My pleasure, Lady Dawson.” He flipped her onto her back and kissed her, his free hand sliding over her body to the place that most ached for his touch. “My very, very great pleasure.”
A NEW SENSATION
Sarah was caught up in the most amazing dream she had ever had. She was in a large, soft bed and somehow her warm flannel nightgown had vanished. But she wasn’t cold. No, she was actually warm. Very warm. There was something large and hot next to her. She was pressed up against it. It felt sinfully wonderful. She breathed in the warm scent of brandy and linen.
She felt a delicious pressure on her lips. Firm yet soft. Like velvet. Seductive. Her mouth moved to explore the new sensation and was rewarded with a moist heat.
Wake up, a small voice said. Something this good cannot be right.
Sarah silenced the voice.
The Naked Duke
Sally MacKenzie
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
To Mom and Dad
who share my addiction to Regency romances,
and to Kevin, Dan, Matt, David, and Mike
who are a trifle disconcerted
to have a romance writer in the family.
Also with thanks to Nancy and Robert
for reviewing some of the many drafts of this book—
You helped me find my way.
Contents
Chapter 1
The devil was still asleep.
Sarah Hamilton squeezed closer to the stagecoach window. The farmer next to her grunted, shifting his considerable weight to take over the small space she’d made between them. The movement sent yet another fetid blast of yesterday’s fish and sweat her way.
She glanced again at the man seated across from her. Even in sleep, his long, pale face and high-bridged nose were arrogant. She shivered, remembering his icy blue eyes when he’d climbed aboard the stagecoach in London. He looked just like the picture of Satan in her father’s copy of
Paradise Lost
. This, she felt certain, was her first specimen of the British
ton
—a lazy, useless, drunken, conceited, womanizing, degenerate product of years of inbreeding.
She swallowed. Her uncle was an
earl,
for God’s sake. What if he were as cold as this fellow?
The coach lurched around a corner and clattered into an inn yard. Sarah bounced off her neighbor’s ample thigh and cracked her elbow sharply on the wooden panel beneath the stagecoach window.
“Ow-mmmp!” She shut her lips tightly, but it was too late. She’d woken the sleeping man.
Anger flickered in his cold blue eyes. He glared at her, his hard gaze traveling slowly from the wisp of red hair she felt straggling across her forehead down to her dowdy, colorless dress. His upper lip crooked into a sneer. She wanted to vanish into the upholstery. Even the fat farmer held his breath.
Fortunately, the coach door swung open at that moment.
“Green Man!” the coachman shouted. “Best get out and stretch yer legs.”
The man gave Sarah one last glare, then shrugged and turned to push past the coachman. Sarah’s seatmate exhaled a long breath that echoed her own. They watched the man saunter across the inn yard and disappear inside the building.
“Thank Gawd,” the farmer muttered. He squeezed his bulk through the coach door.
Sarah inched across the bench after him. She’d been sitting all the way from Liverpool, and her hips and knees felt as if they would never straighten again. When the coachman offered his hand, she took it gladly. She staggered as her feet touched the cobblestones.
“Ye all right, miss?” Small brown eyes, warm with concern, peered at her from under thick graying brows.
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine.” She released her grip on his hand and reached into her reticule, bringing out two coins. They vanished between his beefy fingers.
“I ’spect someone’s coming to meet ye?” he asked, pocketing the money.
Sarah looked down and fiddled with the strings on her reticule. “I have relatives nearby.”
“That’s good.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Well then, good night, miss.” He leaned closer, saying in a low voice, “I’d steer clear of that cove ye was riding with—the swell, that is.”
Sarah nodded. “I certainly intend to.”
“The fat bloke, he stinks of fish. But the swell…” The man shook his head. “He stinks of…”
“Evil. I quite agree. I do hope I never see the man again.”
She smiled at the coachman and turned toward the inn. It was a sturdy, welcoming building. Light and sound spilled out from its windows. She heard the clatter of mugs and silverware, the raucous laughter of men in the common room. The scent of ale and roasting meat drifted past her, but her stomach rebelled. She was too tired to eat. All she wanted was a room with a bed.
The innkeeper pushed back his greasy hair as she approached the front desk. His lips squeezed together as he examined her wrinkled dress and crushed bonnet. He could not have looked sourer if he had chewed a barrelful of lemons.
Sarah sighed and straightened her shoulders. “I need a room for the night, please.”
“Got no rooms.”
“You must have something!” She swallowed and took a deep breath. She could not appear on her uncle’s doorstep at night, exhausted and filthy. “I’ll be gone in the morning. I’m visiting my uncle, the Earl of Westbrooke.”
The man snorted. “Yer uncle’s the earl? And mine’s Prinny hisself. Get on, girl. I know what yer trade is and ye’ll ply it somewhere else.”
Sarah blinked. “You can’t think I’m…” she squeaked. She swallowed and tried again. “That I’m…” No, she couldn’t say it.
The innkeeper could. “A whore, a doxy, a tart,” he sneered. “I’ll thank ye to get out of my inn.”
Just as he spat out his last words, a tall man with reddish hair stepped into the hall.
The troll behind the desk bowed immediately. “Yes, my lord? Did ye be needing something?”
“Sounds like you’re needing a little milk of human kindness, Jakes,” the man said, his words slurring slightly. He barely glanced at the innkeeper; his attention was all on Sarah. “You wouldn’t really throw this poor damsel in distress out into the night, would you, old man?”
“Ye know this woman, my lord?” The innkeeper shot Sarah a worried glance. She smiled vaguely.
She
certainly didn’t know her potential savior.
“Well, we haven’t met, but I’ve been expecting her.” The man stepped closer, bracing himself against the wall with his hand. Sarah could smell his words. This redheaded lord had found the bottom of a brandy bottle.
She should have been terrified, but there was something oddly familiar about him. She studied his slightly glazed hazel eyes and lopsided grin. Perhaps he reminded her of the fervent young men who’d gathered in her father’s study to argue politics and drain tankards of rum punch.
“Come on,” he said. “The room’s this way.” He lurched toward the stairs and grabbed the railing.
He must have confused her with another traveler. She followed him as he stumbled up the narrow steps and weaved along the corridor. Her conscience urged her to speak up, but her exhausted body told her conscience to shush. She could not go another step tonight. Surely the woman her redheaded escort was expecting would not arrive tonight, and if she did, she would understand. Any woman would be willing to share accommodations in such a situation.
The man finally found the room he was seeking. He opened the door and stood aside to let Sarah pass through. She paused on the threshold. There was one point she should clarify.
“This is not your room, is it, sir?”
The man propped a broad shoulder against the doorjamb and grinned. It was impossible not to respond to the twinkle in his eye, even if it was a drunken twinkle, and the deep dimple in his right cheek. Sarah smiled back. He leaned closer.
“Oh, no, mine’s farther down the hall.”
“Ah.” Sarah tried not to choke on the brandy fumes that enveloped her. “Well, then, thank you.” She stepped into the room. The man remained on her doorjamb. She could not close the door without catching his fingers. She looked at him uncertainly. “I do appreciate your help.”
He nodded. “Water,” he said. “I bet you’d appreciate water to wash with as well.”
“Thank you, that would be wonderful.” Washing off her travel dirt sounded almost as heavenly as sleeping. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”
“No bother.” The dimple deepened. “James will thank me, too. I’ll have some water sent up directly.”