Four Dukes And A Devil Part 5

After that, there was no restraining either one of them. Laces were fumbled with and finally undone. b.u.t.tons freed. Clothes dropped to the floor. The clean sheets felt good against the heat of her body. But nothing could compare with the feeling of her husband lying naked beside her.

Their kisses grew more heated. He was strong in ways she'd not imagined. He held off his own pleasure to please her-and that's when the last traces of doubt left her. This man was a gift from G.o.d.

Susan wasn't completely certain what to expect. She had a general idea, but ideas were not the same as experience. What she discovered was that the act of coupling was far more fun than she could have imagined.

Roan tickled her with his tongue, caressed and soothed her with his fingers, and kissed every place that was kissable.

And then, the games between them were over. Her husband's weight rested on top of her. The length of him pressed intimately against her.

He brushed back tangled strands of hair from her face, his expression serious. "I love you, Susan," he said, then kissed her, fully, deeply before entering her in one smooth, strong thrust.

The sensation of him caught her off guard. She gave a small gasp of surprise. Immediately, he was repentant.

"I'm sorry. Here, let me leave you alone-"

Susan stopped him from pulling away by placing her hand on one firm b.u.t.tock. "You'll go nowhere, husband," she said, "until you've finished what you've started." Her body had adjusted to him. In fact, he felt quite nice...but she knew there had to be more.

The worry left his expression. "I think only of your pleasure," he whispered.

"Then begin pleasuring," she answered, the words turning into a soft purr as he did exactly that.

Susan knew she would never forget the joy of this first coupling. Roan was everything she wanted in a lover. He knew what she needed before she was even aware herself.

She clung to him, trusting him. He did not fail her. He took her to places she'd never imagined. Their bodies moved as one until that bright, s.h.i.+ning moment when she gave all.

Her whole being vibrated with her love for him. Tears came to her eyes from sheer joy.

And then she felt him join her. He thrust deep and hard as if reaching to her very center before finding his own blessed release.

For a long time, neither moved. They held each other tight.

Susan found her voice first. "May we do this again?"

Her question startled a laugh out of him. He rolled off her, bringing her up so she rested on his chest, her legs inter twined with his. Flipping the bedcovers over them, he nuzzled her nose, and promised, "Morning, noon, and night."

And so they did.

Three days later, they finally left their marriage bed-but Susan was no longer the same woman she had been that first night.

Then, she'd been shy and uncertain of Roan's love.

Now, she emerged a woman deeply loved and confident that, at last, she'd found her place in this world...by his side.

Epilogue The Duke of Marlborough's ball was the last event of the Season. Invitations were coveted. Only the cream of the ton ton were invited, and no one who received an invitation would consider refusing it. were invited, and no one who received an invitation would consider refusing it.

Consequently, it was a night to see and be seen.

However, when the butler announced the arrival of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Killeigh, conversation stopped. After all, Killeigh had been a bit infamous at the beginning of the Season, with all that talk of his being an Irish Duke and the Order of Precedence. There were few who didn't know the story.

But no one had heard he had married.

Whispers started from people wondering who the lucky woman was. Word had gone around that Killeigh had purchased one of those new homes in Mayfair and was in the process of buying the best of furnis.h.i.+ngs.

The debutantes were the most curious. Their Season had not gone well. Many missed the wise counsel of Miss Rogers. She'd known exactly what to do and what to say in every circ.u.mstance. The most unhappy was Lady Theresa. She missed Gerald Grover and wished she'd not tossed him aside for Lord Haven's vain and stupid son.

She wondered if she had the courage to defy her parents.

Two people who were not curious were Ellen and Jane. They had been relieved not to have to worry about their sister. She had apparently taken off. Run away. They agreed it was rude of her, but at least they wouldn't have to worry about her.

They turned to see who would appear at Killeigh's side as his new bride just as a matter of idle curiosity-and then Ellen dropped her punch cup in surprise. It landed on Jane's new satin slippers, forever staining the fabric, but Jane didn't care. She was just as shocked as Ellen.

Their sister stood on the step beside the Duke of Killeigh.

Susan looked magnificent. Diamonds at her throat, her ears, and nestled in her blond curls sparkled in the candlelight. Her gown could only have come from Madame Lucia's, the premier dressmaker in London. It was a white muslin trimmed in blue lace. On her feet, she wore sandals made of silver cords.

Jane leaned close to Ellen's ears. "Everyone will be wearing those sandals by tomorrow."

Ellen nodded. "She looks positively stunning. Who knew Killeigh had so much money?" She frowned. "Of course, can you believe she just took off without telling us?" she muttered.

"I can believe we'd best do what we must to beg her forgiveness," Jane answered, and Ellen knew she was right.

The person most relived to see them was the Honorable Rees Trenholm. He was the first to approach Roan. "Congratulations, Your Grace, on your marriage." He bowed to Susan. "Killeigh could not have chosen a more beautiful woman for his bride."

Susan blushed but she was actually very nervous. "I pray you, Mr. Trenholm, how does the wind blow? Will there be much gossip?"

Rees laughed. "Of course there will be, but what do you care? The two of you look absolutely happy with each other."

And they were.

"As for myself," Rees said, "I am happy to see you show your face at last, Your Grace. There is a matter of a little wager on the Betting Book at White's." He raised his voice so all could hear. "The matter of a dance has not yet been resolved. And there have been several who have come to me for their money," he added under his breath.

Roan laughed. "Then let me solve the matter now. Your Grace?" he said, offering his hand to his wife.

She placed a gloved hand in his, and he led her to the dance floor. The crowd moved back, and the other dancers stepped back, leaving the floor for them.

"That must have been quite a wager," Susan murmured.

Her husband smiled. "My lips are sealed."

The music started, and, for a second, Susan was lost in the perfect wonder of the evening. They moved as one, and she was so caught up in the music and being in the arms of the man she loved, she forgot about their audience. She forgot her past. She forgot about everything but her present and her future.

Too soon, the music came to an end.

Both Roan and Susan were startled, and very flattered, when the crowd clapped for their performance. Susan knew she had been accepted.

Her husband leaned close. "Don't be too ahead of yourself," he warned. "After all, we have to sit down down the table from Marlborough and the others." the table from Marlborough and the others."

Susan rewarded his impudence with a kiss that delighted the crowd, who swooped in on them with their well-wishes. Ellen and Jane found themselves standing on the fringes of the crowd.

Rees couldn't help but smile. He was relieved he wasn't going to have to make good on all those bets.

Lady Theresa stood by the doors leading out to the garden watching all this. Miss Rogers looked so happy, so loved.

And she felt so alone.

Tears threatened. She slipped outside, wanting a private moment alone. If her father saw her crying, he'd be very annoyed.

She swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She'd been such a fool. Gerald had loved her, and she'd treated him badly. What she wouldn't give to have his love back- "Theresa."

It was her beloved Gerald's voice. At first, she thought she was imagining things, but then she saw him. He stood in the night shadows by the garden gate.

Without hesitation, she lifted her skirt hem and ran to him. His arms around her were strong and secure. They kissed, and she wept, overwhelmed with her love for this man. Her parents would never approve of him...but she could love no one else.

"I was so wrong," she declared, but he shushed her with a kiss.

When they could speak again, her beloved asked, "Will you go to Scotland with me, Theresa?"

She turned, looked back at the glittering company in the ballroom that could be seen through the gla.s.s doors. Her heart twisted at the thought of her parents-and yet, this was her life.

She chose Love.

"Now," she answered Gerald. "This very minute."

And so it was that on that March night, a new set of lovers eloped.

Because in the end, the measure of a well-lived life is not t.i.tles or riches. It's not even measured by the people we please, especially at the cost of our own souls.

No, the true measure of a well-lived life is how well we love...and how well we are loved in return.

About Cathy Maxwell CATHY MAXWELL spends hours in front of her computer pondering the question, "Why do people fall in love?" It remains for her the great mystery of life and the secret to happiness. She lives in beautiful Virginia with her children, horses, dogs, and cats. Fans can contact Cathy at spends hours in front of her computer pondering the question, "Why do people fall in love?" It remains for her the great mystery of life and the secret to happiness. She lives in beautiful Virginia with her children, horses, dogs, and cats. Fans can contact Cathy at www.cathymaxwell.com www.cathymaxwell.com.

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The Duke Who Came to Dinner

Elaine Fox

Chapter One

Distracted, Sam Gregory took a sip of his scalding coffee and nearly spit it all over the windowpane. Swallowing painfully instead, he leaned toward the gla.s.s and stared out the window into the dawnlight of the village street.

Pedaling a bicycle with all the determination of Dorothy's Wicked Witch of the West was a slender, fair-haired, stark-naked woman.

Stark, he marveled, forgetting his coffee. he marveled, forgetting his coffee.

Naked.

He moved right, nearly overturning a table lamp, to look out the next window as she sped past.

Her hair streamed out behind her in long, damp curls, some clinging to her naked back, some bouncing past her shoulders. A few strands adhered to her face. Her trim legs pumped hard, and he realized she wore the barest of panties in the palest of pinks-an odd concession to the perception that nudity might not be appropriate for a bike ride.

Sam craned his neck and let his temple touch the windowpane as he watched her cycle past the house.

Other than the panties, she was quite obviously naked. Firm, perky b.r.e.a.s.t.s pointed forward as she pedaled, her eyes looking neither left nor right but trained on the street in front of her as if willing herself invisible.

That she was beautiful was abundantly clear. As was the fact that she was nuts.

It only occurred to him after she'd rolled out of sight that she might have needed a.s.sistance. Like a robe, he thought, looking down at his tattered flannel. Or a car, he thought, glancing at the faded Nissan pickup in the drive.

It was too late, however. She was gone. Like a bizarre dream. The ghost of Lady G.o.diva, he thought with a smile. On a Schwinn.

Gray Gilliam nearly flung the bicycle into the shrubs at the end of the driveway and sprinted to the back door. She'd left it unlocked, but it balked as she pushed before she turned the k.n.o.b, then refused as she turned the k.n.o.b and pulled, then opened with a bang against the inside wall as she turned, pushed and stumbled into the mudroom.

She panted, a st.i.tch in her side so sharp she pressed it with one hand and bent forward.

She had never been so humiliated in her life. Though she'd kept her eyes forward as she'd ridden home, she was sure somebody somewhere along the way had witnessed her disgrace. Now she'd have to wonder every time she got a strange look from someone if they'd seen her naked.

Breath finally slowing close to normal, she flip-flopped out of the mudroom, across the kitchen, and headed for the stairs. Despite the fact that she was inside, goose b.u.mps rose on her naked skin. She decided it was because of the chill inside the house and not because she felt as if she were being watched. The house was always cold, she reasoned.

And she always felt like she was being watched, another voice in her head volunteered.

While it was true, it was silly, she told herself. It made no sense to feel watched in this house. For one thing, the place sat on close to ten acres of private beachfront land, so no one was looking in the windows. And if there'd been someone inside the house, the creaking floorboards and unoiled door hinges would have alerted her to their presence immediately.

She s.h.i.+vered. Her thin Virginia blood was simply unused to June in Ma.s.sachusetts.

She had just donned her fat white terry-cloth robe when the phone rang. She sprinted to the kitchen where the lone receiver was.