Chapter FIFTY-FOUR
Twenty minutes later, they were at Derek’s town house. They’d quickly said their good-byes to the prince regent and the other esteemed guests at the dinner party and hastily taken their leave, dismissing Garrett—who merely raised his eyebrows and said, “I do hope the wedding is imminent,” before ordering his coach back home. No doubt everyone in attendance knew exactly what they were up to.
Thankfully, Haughty Hughes had already retired for the evening. The moment they entered the foyer and divested themselves of their cloaks, Derek pulled Lucy into the nearest drawing room.
“Shouldn’t we go to your bedchamber?” she asked, a shaky smile on her lips.
“No. I can’t wait. I have to have you now. I’ve been thinking about taking you in a drawing room ever since Bath.”
Derek shut the door behind them and locked it. Then he turned to Lucy with a dark, passionate look in his eyes. He stalked toward her and captured her lips, moving his hand behind her neck to grasp her head and move it in rhythm to his kiss. Lucy gasped against his mouth.
Heedlessly knocking over furniture, he dragged her to the side of the room and pushed her up against the wall, roughly but not enough to hurt her. “Spread your legs for me,” he demanded. “Now.”
Lust, hot and powerful, shot through her. She did exactly as he said. He lifted her against the wall, fumbled for the buttons on his trousers with one deft hand, then gathered up her skirts, pushed her shift up to her hips, and entered her in one sure, solid thrust.
Lucy’s head snapped to the side against the wall. Her mouth was open, her breasts heavy, hot. She moaned. She’d never felt anything like it. She’d been ready for him in just those brief moments. The instant his hands had touched her she’d been hot and wet and wanting. Derek’s eyes were closed and his jaw tightly clenched. “You. Feel. So. Damn. Good.” He punctuated each word with a thrust.
Lucy’s head tossed back and forth. “So do you.”
She thought this was all there would be, that they’d stay like this until that amazing feeling only he could make her feel washed over her in hot, welcome waves, but instead he pulled out of her and set her down. She wanted to sob. Her wobbly feet found the wood floorboards and she braced herself against him, one hand on his shoulder, still breathing so heavily she thought her heart would beat from her chest.
Derek spun her around and made quick work of the buttons on her gown. Soon the entire mass of fabric swooshed down around her feet. His body heat was gone for a moment while he pulled a padded stepstool over. “Kneel here,” he commanded.
A rush of heat and longing spread to Lucy’s limbs. She turned and faced the wall, kneeling on the soft stool wearing only her shift. She braced her hands against the windowsill in front of her. Even though it was dark, she was thankful the curtains were drawn. Derek undid her stays, pulled them over her head, and discarded them. Then he pulled the pins out of her coiffure quickly, messily, tugging at her hair a bit, causing a bit of pain. She didn’t care. The entire mass of her shiny dark hair fell over her shoulders and Derek splayed it over her back. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered in her ear.
Lucy could tell by the shuffling of fabric behind her that he was removing his trousers this time. “Spread your legs,” he demanded again. She did. “Wider.”
She pushed her knees farther apart. A thrill shot through her.
Then he was there, behind her, tugging her shift up over her hips, probing at her softness. Lucy was bent over on the stool, braced against the windowsill. She was more than wet and ready for him. Hard and smooth, he slid inside of her with one sure thrust. Lucy gasped. Derek groaned. “Damn it. I thought about this all night. I can never have enough of you.” He hadn’t yet begun to move, and Lucy was completely at his mercy. She tried to rock her hips back and forth, but his large, strong hands grabbed her around the waist, owning her.
He leaned over her body and bit her earlobe. “I want you, Lucy.” One sure thrust. “I want you.” Another thrust.
Lucy moaned. She turned her head to the side. Wanting to kiss him, to feel his mouth on hers. She leaned back against him and wrapped her arms behind his neck, forcing her breasts to jut out. His hands moved up and caressed them, flicking the sensitive peaks and making Lucy moan again.
“You’re mine,” he groaned. Another hard thrust. “Mine.”
She tried to grab him, her arms grappling behind her head. “I’m yours,” she echoed on a groan.
“I didn’t want this,” Derek whispered into her ear. “I didn’t want to fall in love and become a slave to a woman’s body.”
She shuddered. “You’re my slave?”
Another deep thrust that made her whimper. “Yes. You make me so hard.” Another thrust.
She gasped. “Derek, I want you. So much.”
Another deep thrust made Lucy close her eyes and moan. He moved his hand around to lightly caress the nub between her legs. He bit her neck softly.
Lucy cried out. His fingers drove her mad, circling her again and again, softly, so softly, bringing her to the brink of a ecstasy and then … stopping.
“No!” she cried out as his finger fell away from the place she wanted it the most. She nearly sobbed.
He withdrew from her then and pulled her up from the stool. He leaned down and drew up her shift and pulled it over her head. He threw it into the corner and stared at her body like it was a priceless painting. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “So damn beautiful.”
Tears pricked behind Lucy’s eyes.
He lifted her tenderly, easily, and carried her over to the sofa. He laid her down so reverently. “Lucy,” he whispered as he covered her with his huge hot body. “I love you.”
He thrust into her again in one sure solid movement and she arched her back off the sofa. He leaned down and sucked her breast into his mouth, playing with her, toying with her. He thrust again. “I want you.” He thrust again. “So. Damn. Badly.”
Lucy was completely mindless. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair, her mouth open and red and raw from his fierce kisses. She’d been a bit tender when he’d first entered her but that was long forgotten now with all the overwhelming feelings he was stoking in her body. He plowed into her again and again and that, combined with the force of his hot wet mouth sucking on her nipple, made her groan. She was so close, so close. And he knew it.
He gave her a devilish grin and pulled out of her. “No!” she cried this time reaching for him, tugging on him, trying to force him back inside her by wrapping her leg around his back. Instead he let his wicked hand slide down to the juncture of her thighs, where he slipped one hot finger inside of her. Lucy’s head rolled back on the cushion. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Never, my love. I just want to give you the most amazing feeling of your life.”
“You already have,” she breathed.
“To date,” he said wickedly, just before he slipped his finger back inside her. His dark head moved back to her breast, tugging relentlessly with his teeth. Once, twice, matching the rhythm of his finger. He stroked her again, again, while his tormenting mouth kept up its pressure on her helpless breast. Then his thumb found that perfect spot between her legs and he rubbed it in a circle just as his mouth tugged for a final time on her swollen, aching breast.
“Oh, God, Derek!” she cried as the wave of her orgasm crashed over her with a force that tore a scream from her chest. He rolled onto her quickly and slid inside her, her internal muscles climaxing, flexing. He thrust into her one, two, three times, gritting his teeth as her hot wet warmth milked him and he exploded in the most intense release of his entire life.
* * *
They snuck out of the drawing room. Derek had put his clothing back on and been on the lookout for servants. Lucy had tossed on her shift and said a little prayer that they’d make it up the staircase and down the long corridor to Derek’s bedchamber without being caught. But truthfully she didn’t care. All she cared about was this man, her love, the way he made her feel, the way she hoped she made him feel, and the amazing fact that they’d found each other and were going to be married. Married. She still couldn’t believe that. Even though she said it over and over in her head, it started to sound made up, as if it had no meaning. But she repeated it nonetheless.
They made it safely to his bedchamber. Derek quickly locked the door behind them, then scooped Lucy into his arms and carried her over to the bed where he laid her gently. She pushed up onto her knees and pulled her shift over her head. Derek quickly shucked all of his clothing again and soon they were rolling around, giggling and laughing and kissing and then, seriously, making love.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” Derek whispered into her hair after they finished.
Lucy propped herself up against the pillows, the sheet pulled up under her arms. Derek situated himself next to her.
“So tell me, Duke of Decisive, when did you know for certain you loved me?”
Derek braced both hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, a grin on his handsome face. “Let’s see. I believe it was right around the time when I realized that thinking of another man’s hands touching you made me want to tear the chap limb from limb.”
Lucy widened her eyes. “Truly?”
“Yes, when I saw Berkeley helping you into your coach at the theater, I wanted to kill him.”
Lucy shook her head. “Like the time you punched the tree?”
“Yes,” he growled. “Exactly like the time I punched the tree.”
She laughed. “And your murderous thoughts translated into love?”
Derek turned to brace himself up on one elbow and stare at her. He pushed a curl behind her ear. “I knew it because I remember thinking that if I married Cassandra, I wouldn’t mind who she consorted with.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s amazing to me that you love me.”
He traced her cheekbone with the tip of his finger. “Why would you say that?”
She pulled up the covers to her neck. “You could have had Cass. Cass is so perfect and pretty and well put together. She’s demure and sweet and never says anything rude or cross or offensive. Me? I’m quirky. My eyes are two different colors and my hair is too curly and completely unmanageable and when I blow my nose I sound like a goose.”
“A goose?”
“Yes. Did you know when Cass blows her nose, you can barely tell?”
He pulled her into his arms. “Apparently, I like ladies who are rude and cross and offensive.” He smiled at her. “Until I met you, I’d never met anyone, let alone a female, who stood up to me the way you did, who challenged me. It was quite a new experience for me, I have to say.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “It was?”
“Yes. Your eyes are unique and your curly hair is beautiful and you do not blow your nose like a goose and even if you did, I wouldn’t mind. Being demure is highly overrated.”
She smiled at that. “It is?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Will you please tell my mother that?”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Absolutely.”
“I never met anyone like you before, either, Derek. All the men I’d known were so easily scared off when I opened my mouth. They never stood up to me like you did.”
He half laughed, half snorted. “I know. You’d been waiting for someone to challenge you for a long time.”
She sighed. “I suppose this means we’re perfect for each other.”
He grinned at her. “My thoughts exactly.”
They lay snuggled together for a few minutes before Lucy ventured, “Derek?”
“Yes, my love?”
She traced a fingertip down his bare chest. “There is one bad thing about our wedding.”
He frowned. “What’s that?”
She sighed. “You won’t be able to call me Miss Upton any longer.”
He pulled her into his arms. “No, but I’ll be able to call you Her Grace, the Duchess of Claringdon. My wife.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I like that last one the very best.”