She had married a duke. A man who had lied to her time and again, whose very existence was a sham, who had accepted her love and her trust and then betrayed them.
And if Drake himself was a lie, then what of the feelings they had shared? She closed her eyes, unwanted images appearing before her. The heroic way he had rescued her from death, the tender way he had nursed her back to health on the island, the laughter they had shared, the words he had whispered, the look in his burning eyes when he’d made love to her—a look that had everything and nothing to do with passion.
Or so she had thought. She had deluded herself into thinking—no, hoping—that he was falling in love with her, that all that was missing were the words he could not yet say. Perhaps that was what hurt the most. To admit the truth was to negate all that had passed between them these last months. And that truth her heart was not yet ready to accept. So the tears remained unshed.
She had to sleep. The next few days would be the most trying of her life. Her own grief and despair had no place in the day-to-day world of Allonshire. Alex’s upbringing had prepared her to do her duty, regardless of her inner turmoil. But the overwhelming burden of being a duchess? For that, she was totally unprepared. Indeed, her mother had tried to teach her the skills required of a noblewoman, to ready her for the day when she would be the mistress of her own home. Alex had foolishly dismissed the attempts as inane. How she regretted that now! For now she faced the awesome responsibility of being the Duchess of Allonshire.
Then there was Drake’s family.
Samantha was a softhearted girl with warmth and spirit. It was obvious that she adored Drake and that the feeling was mutual. Never having had a sister of her own, Alex wanted very badly to reach out and earn Samantha’s friendship.
After showing Alex to her room Samantha had lingered, shy and eager all at once. And Alex’s heart had ached for the younger girl’s pain and loneliness. Yet her own emotional strength had been depleted by the events of the day. She had therefore asked Samantha if they might spend the next morning together, getting to know each other. Samantha’s eyes had lit up, joy and anticipation making them glow. She had looked so much like Drake at that instant that Alex had almost wept.
Alex’s tenderness vanished as her mind moved to Sebastian. There was a coldness about him that frightened her, and the hungry, lustful way he looked at her was unnerving and damned insulting. After all, she was wed to his brother.
Drake. Her mind returned to the complex man she had married. His father’s death had obviously been a terrible blow to him and the weeks to come would mean a drastic change in his way of life. The adjustment would be tremendously difficult for Drake, she knew, for whatever else he had lied about, he had not lied about his love for the sea. And now that life would be over, lost beneath his staggering responsibility to Allonshire. The thought saddened her, but there was little she could do. She felt cold inside, cold and dead. She had little internal strength left for herself; she had none to offer Drake.
Alex slid into the bed, willing herself to go to sleep. Tomorrow would reveal itself in but a few short hours.
The door to her bedchamber opened. Alex started, sitting up in surprise. Silhouetted in the doorway was Drake, his powerful form revealed by the glow of the firelight, his face concealed by shadows. He walked slowly into the room, closing the door behind him and approaching the bed. He stopped just before he reached Alex’s side, staring down at her, his expression enigmatic.
Alex returned his gaze without moving, noting that her sea captain was gone. Drake was clean-shaven, his hair cut shorter at the nape of his neck. His robe, made of dark green silk, was belted, but open enough for her to see the soft dark hair that covered his massive chest.
The man who gazed down at her was very much the Duke of Allonshire.
“What do you want, Drake?” Her voice was drained and devoid of emotion.
“I don’t know what I want,” he answered her quietly, searching for some softness in her eyes and finding none. “Nor can I answer any of the other questions you must have, for I myself don’t know who I am anymore.” He swallowed. “My father is dead. I feel so damned empty inside.”
“So do I, Drake,” Alex whispered truthfully. “And I need to be alone to think things through.”
“I need you.” He begged her with his eyes. “I’ll go if you ask me to … but please don’t ask me to.” His jaw tightened, a muscle working furiously in his cheek. “I’ve never asked … begged … a woman in my life. Please, Alex, I need you to stop the pain. Just tonight. Please.”
It wasn’t fair of him to ask this of her. Alex knew it, and Drake knew it as well. She had yet to recover from shock and move on to acceptance. She could not begin to consider forgiveness. Not now; maybe never.
He needed her. She stared up at the green fire in his eyes, a fire born of pain and loss and desire. Yet he waited, and she knew he would leave her if she asked him to. She didn’t ask. Perhaps this was all they could offer each other to fill the void inside them. Perhaps it was all they had left, possibly all they’d ever had. At that moment it didn’t matter.
He saw his answer in her eyes, and she saw the flame of hope in his. He unbelted his robe, dropped it to the floor, and got into bed beside her.
“Alex, come to me,” he whispered in a shaken voice. “I’ve never needed anything like I need you tonight.”
They both moved at once, coming together in a desperate explosion of feeling, driven by the elemental need of one human being for another, the reaffirmation of life. Drake peeled the night rail from Alex’s body, casting it to the floor beside his robe. A harsh cry was torn from his lips as he pressed her naked body against his, whether from desire or anguish, Alex wasn’t sure. He held her for a long time, just feeling her heart pound against his, burying his face in her fragrant cloud of hair. His breathing was harsh, erratic, his body hot against hers.
Slowly Alex slid her arms around his back, pressed her face against the solid strength of his chest. She could feel the chill leave her as he enveloped her in the power of his embrace, molded each soft contour of her body to his hardened ones. Their legs intertwined, roughness and silk as one, their arms tightened about each other. For long moments neither of them spoke or moved, the only sound being the soft crackling of the fire. She could feel his arousal, hard and throbbing against her stomach, but he made no move to join their bodies. With a will of its own Alex could feel her body begin to respond to his nearness, pulsing slowly to life until her own breathing was irregular and her skin was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
Drake felt it, too, and a wave of relief swept through him. He could still make her feel something, be it only desire. He had been so afraid. And although he knew it was only a shell of what it had been before, he took what she offered him greedily and with a hunger that made him weak.
He lifted his head and, unwilling to see the bleakness in her eyes, lowered his mouth to hers, seeking another truth. She tasted so sweet, so right. He parted her lips and drank more deeply of her intoxicating flavor, inhaled the wonderful floral scent that was Alex. His heart soared as she opened to him, meeting his tongue with her own, gliding her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. All realities dissolved but this one, the reality that was in his arms.
Alex. His heart called out to her again and again, a silent message conveyed by his body. His lips left hers to brush butterfly kisses along her cheeks, nose, and chin, down the slender column of her neck, up to the delicate shell of her ear. His breath was hot and raspy as his tongue traced the soft lobe tenderly, with infinite gentleness. He felt her shudder in his arms.
“Ah, Alex,” he murmured into her ear, “respond to me, love; just let your body take over. Give me your beauty, your passion. … God, Alex, breathe life back into my soul.” He bit down lightly and she moaned.
“Drake …”
“I know, princess, I know.”
She shook her head frantically at the painfully familiar e
ndearment and tugged his head down to her breast. She didn’t want to think, only to feel.
Drake responded to her gesture by running his tongue along the soft mounds of her breasts, drawing each nipple into his mouth, first lightly, then with such force that she cried out, arching her back.
He lifted his head, his face flushed with emotion and need. Her eyes were closed, her skin suffused with a rosy glow. She was so beautiful lying there bathed in firelight, her body telling him how much it wanted him.
Drake braced himself on one arm and slid his other arm beneath her, lifting her from the bed, burying his lips in hers for another shattering kiss. She clung to him, both arms around his neck, and he slid his hand down the smooth skin of her back, over the gently rounded curve of her hip and onto the silkiness of her inner thighs. She opened to him at once, parting her legs to his stroking fingers.
At his first touch she whimpered, and he groaned. She was hot and soft and satiny wet with her desire for him. The feel of her was enough to push him over the edge; he wanted to savor her and devour her all at once. His emotions were dangerously close to the surface, his body burning alive. But he wanted these moments to last; he needed to hold at bay what lay beyond tonight.
Softly, gently, he stroked his hand up and down her delicate flesh, until she was digging her nails into his back and begging him to end the torture. He worsened it instead. Gradually, maddeningly, he slid his fingers inside her, giving her a teasing penetration that brought her closer to the edge.
“Drake, don’t do this,” she pleaded, squirming helplessly against him.
“Let it last,” he breathed back. “Let it go on forever.”
“I can’t. Nothing can …”
“You can. We will.” His hoarse whisper was insistent, speaking of far more than their lovemaking.
“Drake! I need you!” she sobbed.
“And I need you.” He pressed her legs farther apart with his knees, settling himself between them.
“Alex.” He cupped her face, demanding with his hands and his tone that she look at him.
She opened her eyes, and their gazes locked for the first time since he had come to her bed.
“I’m your husband, Alex. Give yourself to me.” And he drove into her with force and despair and an uncontrollable need to have her back.
They moved together in a rhythm that belonged to them. For the moments their bodies were joined nothing existed but the intensity of their union. There was no room for pain or fear or even doubt. There was only the power of his body moving inside hers, the softness of her body closing around his.
They reached the unbearable peak together. Alex tore her mouth from his, cried out in racking pleasure and welcome release. Drake lunged forward onto her and into her, calling her name again and again as he spilled himself deep inside her. Even as he helplessly surrendered to his own painful pleasure, he was acutely aware of his wife. He reveled in her cries of ecstasy, the hard contractions of her body gripping his, the stark beauty of her face in the throes of her release, even the tiny quiverings of her inner muscles in the glorious aftermath of their passion, when their bodies were still as one.
He held her while she slept,, unwilling to let her go, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his chin atop her silky head. A cold dread grew inside him and settled tightly in his chest as he relived the past hour.
Their passion had burned as brightly as ever, yet even as Alex gave herself to him, she had held a part of herself back. Once her passion alone would have been enough for him. But no longer. Having tasted the rare gift of Alex’s love, Drake wasn’t satisfied with her body alone. He wanted it all—her heart, her soul, her trust.
He had had it once. Damn it, he would have it again. But before he could convince himself of that, another sinking realization about tonight’s lovemaking asserted itself in his mind.
Alex hadn’t said she loved him. For the first time in months she had not sobbed out her love for him at the moment of her climax.
He stared down into her face, soft and relaxed now in slumber.
“Please, princess,” he whispered, “don’t give up on me now. For my sake and for yours, not now.” He kissed her forehead gently, praying that her feelings were strong enough to overcome all that stood between them.
Praying that his own newborn trust was strong enough to withstand the wait.
Chapter 24
“IT’S A GLORIOUS DAY for a walk.” Alex glanced over at Samantha, who stood quietly beside her amid one of the sweeping clusters of oak trees that lined the grounds of Allonshire. Samantha had been silent during the onset of their stroll, but Alex did not fault her. Breakfast had been a somber event, filled with tense silence and the sad knowledge that there was to be a funeral. Alex had felt a protective urge to remove Samantha from the morbid atmosphere as soon as possible. It was painful enough that she had lost her father.
Alex herself had difficulty getting through the meal. She had been unable to meet Drake’s gaze, uncertain of where things stood. And the speculative gleam in Sebastian’s eye, as he looked from Alex to his brother, had only made things worse.
Now, overlooking the vast expanse of greenery stretched before her, Alex took a deep breath and turned to Samantha. “Would you prefer to be by yourself?” she asked, gently touching her arm.
Samantha shook her head. “No, not really. I am so eager to get to know you.” She grinned. “It’s not every day that my brother, the notorious rake, comes home married!” At the pained look on Alex’s face she reached out hastily and touched the sleeve of Alex’s black crepe walking gown. “Alexandria, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.” She sighed deeply. “I have a dreadful tendency to say all the wrong things. Obviously Drake is very different now.”
Different from what? Alex wanted to ask. But she didn’t.
“I know my brother better than anyone,” Samantha was continuing. “And if he married you, you must be wonderful. It’s just that I never thought he would marry.”
Alex gave her a curious look. “Why not?”
Samantha shrugged. “He doesn’t have a very high regard for women, that’s all.”
“Yes, I know.” Alex bit her lip, willing Samantha to go on.
As if she sensed Alex’s need, Samantha continued. “Women adore him; they always have. And why not? He is titled, he has wealth and power, he is breathtakingly handsome and devastatingly charming.”
“When he wants to be,” Alex modified.
“Yes,” Samantha agreed. “But on the whole he believes women to be inherently faithless. I am the only exception … until now, of course,” she hastened to add.
Alex took the plunge. “He even feels that way about your mother?”
For a long moment Samantha was silent, and then her words were so soft that they were barely audible. “Sometimes I think he feels that way because of our mother.”
Alex’s heart began to pound. “For what reason?”
Samantha gave Alex a thoughtful look. “I’m not entirely certain. It’s just a feeling I’ve always had but never expressed. Besides, it doesn’t make any difference. Mother has been dead for almost ten years.”
Alex digested that information carefully. She had already surmised that Drake’s mother was no longer alive, else she would have been with her husband at the end. And as far as Drake’s bitterness being tied somehow to her … that came as no shock either. Alex had long suspected something of the sort.
She had thousands of questions that needed answers, but she would not take advantage of Samantha’s need for company or her closeness to Drake.
Instead, she urged, “It’s your turn, Samantha. You must have many things you want to ask me. I know I would if Drake were my brother.” She waited.
Samantha hesitated, unused to such sensitivity from anyone other than Drake. Unable to resist the gesture of friendship, she gave Alex a grateful smile. “Alexandria, I will try not to pry. If I ask or say anything that offends you, please tell me.”
Alex smiled back. “I doubt that anything you say would offend me, Samantha.”
The younger girl giggled. “Don’t be so certain.” She pointed in the direction of a peaceful, rippling stream just beyond them. “Why don’t we sit for a while?”
Alex nodded. More and more she liked this young girl whose honest, straightforward manner reminded Alex so much of Drake—the Drake she thought she knew.
They settled themselves on the ground, tucking their full, drab skirts beneath them.
“I hate wearing black,” Samantha blurted out. “And I don’t understand the point of it. True mourning takes place here”—she pressed her fingers to her heart—”not in a splendid cathedral for all the world to see.” She turned tear-filled green eyes to Alex. “I told you I say outrageous things,” she whispered.
Alex reached over and took her hand. “Samantha, I wish more people were as genuine as you. There is nothing outrageous about what you said. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Samantha brushed away her tears. “Then you don’t think I’m awful?”
Alex smiled. “Actually, you sound very much like me.”
“You? But you’re so …”
“So … what?”
Samantha looked at her shyly. “Oh … beautiful and feminine and accomplished at all the things that noblewomen are supposed to be. … Why are you laughing?”
“Samantha, if you only knew how wrong you are.” Alex leaned closer. “I’ll tell you a secret. Just this morning Mrs. Haversham, your housekeeper, very primly asked me how her grace would like things to proceed, and all I could do was assure her that things should proceed as they always have. Imagine her surprise if I had told her that her grace had no idea what changes should be made because, instead of observing her mother, the Countess of Sudsbury, all these years, her grace had been out sailing in her skiff!” Alex nodded vigorously at Samantha’s stunned expression. “Would you like to know how Drake and I met?” Alex asked.