Educating Elizabeth

Chapter 19

"I've finished the translation, Your Grace."

Elizabeth waited by the door until the duke looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk and removed his spectacles. His dark hair sparked blue in the sunlight that poured through the high arched window.

"Come in, Mrs. Waterstone and allow me to fetch you a brandy. You don't look at all the thing."

With a sigh of thanks, Elizabeth sank into the chair Sir John pulled out for her and accepted a glass of brandy from the duke. She held out the original scrap of parchment and her translation of it and the duke took them from her.

Gervase cursed under his breath. "It tells us virtually nothing. The attempt to assassinate the Prince Regent will be in London in the summer." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "At least that leaves Brighton out of the puzzle. The Prince Regent might be wiser to spend his entire summer down there. It is far easier to guard."

Elizabeth frowned. "But don't you see, Your Grace? It is well known that the prince prefers to spend his summer in Brighton. Why would he come up to London unless he had to?"

"The Prince Regent will return to London if Parliament requires his presence at any official ceremonies." Sir John answered. "I assume, Your Grace, that a victory parade is planned to celebrate the defeat of Napoleon? Surely that would take place in the summer?"

"That is an excellent point, Sir John." The duke strode to the door and shouted for Standish. "I will contact the Foreign Office and see if they can forewarn me of any such plans. At least it would give us something to go on."

Sir John took charge of the coded message and went to find Nicholas to accompany him to the Foreign Office. Elizabeth remained in her seat, sipping slowly at her brandy until the bustle of their departure subsided. She smiled as the duke came down on his haunches and clinked his brandy glass against hers.

"Congratulations, my dear. I've not forgotten how hard you have worked and I cannot tell you how grateful I am."

Elizabeth drew in her breath and whispered, "You could kiss me, Your Grace. I would like that."

The duke set his glass down on the rug and brought his hands up to frame her face. He studied her for a long while before smoothing a lock of her unruly hair behind her ear. Elizabeth closed her eyes as his mouth hovered over hers and she breathed in his unforgettable scent.

His lips were gentle as he coaxed her to open her mouth and she responded eagerly, amazed at how quickly her body had learned to react to his. He deepened the kiss and then settled into a sensual dance of advance and retreat that brought her arms around his neck and her fingers into his thick hair. She moaned as one of his hands drifted down from her face and settled over her breast.

His fingers slipped inside her bodice and found her taut nipple and rubbed it in the same rhythm as his tongue. She arched her back in a desperate effort to draw him closer and he fitted himself between her legs, hampered only by her skirts. She could feel the heat of his hard cock pressing against her and drew her foot up the back of his buckskin-clad thigh to pull him inwards.

He groaned into her mouth and slid his hand up inside her skirts, past her garter, and toward the juncture of her thighs.

Elizabeth tore her mouth away. "Yes, oh please..."

The duke went still, his hand frozen on her thigh, his mouth a fraction away from hers. He removed his fingers and gently pushed her back into the seat.

"No...I will not oblige you." He held out his hand and grimaced at his shaking fingers. "Perhaps you don't understand what you are doing to me, Elizabeth. I haven't had a woman since you moved into my house."

Elizabeth tried to hold him but he got to his feet. She glanced at the hard bulge of his cock and then into the cool hauteur of his face.

"Don't play games with me, my dear. If you touch me again you will be on your back and I won't stop making love to you even if the Prince Regent and his whole damned cabinet waltz in."

Elizabeth opened her mouth but the duke silenced her with an abrupt gesture. "Please allow me to know what is best for you in this situation, Miss Waterstone. I, at least, have the experience to know that what we do is unwise if we wish to keep to our bargain."

"And if we don't?"

Elizabeth came out of the chair and stood in front of him, her breasts grazing his gray waistcoat, her nose practically touching his chin. She reached up and traced his narrowed lips with her fingertips. A muscle flicked in his cheek but he didn't step away.

The gong sounded in the hall, announcing luncheon, and Elizabeth heard Standish admonishing his staff to hurry. She deliberately moved closer until her whole body pressed against the duke's, from knee to shoulder. She stood on tiptoe, placed her hands on his broad shoulders, and planted a kiss on his lips before sliding back down his aroused body.

"I apologize, Your Grace I was just practicing my skills. I promise to behave for the rest of the day."

The duke was the first to step out of the embrace, which encouraged Elizabeth mightily. She watched his hasty retreat and smiled to herself. He was very close to bedding her. But she suspected that if she didn't act soon he would forgo his promise and disappear into the nearest brothel to gain some relief. Even with her inexperience she had felt the urgency behind his caresses.

All she needed to do was to continue to hound him and be available when he finally broke. She smiled as she thought of the sweetness, which lay ahead, and prayed that her oh-so-experienced suitor would soon become the victim of his own restraint.

The clock in the hallway struck one as Elizabeth gathered her courage and crossed the hall to the duke's suite of rooms. She waited outside the heavy door with its gilded panels, listening for the sound of conversation that might indicate Jacques was still with the duke. Hearing nothing, she opened the door a crack and saw the duke standing in front of the fire, a glass in his hand and a frown on his face.

He turned his head a fraction but didn't alter his stance as his gaze swept over the silken transparency of her gown and her unbound hair.

"What do you want, Elizabeth?"

Her bare feet sank into the thick crimson carpet as she took two steps toward him. She resisted the impulse to ball her hands into fists, and drew in her breath. "I've made a decision. Before I search for another protector, I want you to make love to me, Gervase. I want you to be the first man who possesses me completely."

"You have made a decision? We made a bargain. I've kept my part of it." He brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the contents down in one. "Why should you wish to change it?"

She took the glass from his hand and placed it on the mantelpiece. "Maybe you have taught me too well. You are the only man I wish to lie with."

A muscle flickered in his cheek as she put her hands onto his shoulders and her silken clad breasts brushed against his shirtfront. "I know you will not want me forever, and I promise I will not hang on your sleeve. Please allow me to change my mind. Please allow me this one night."

His hands came up and covered hers in a hard painful grip. "Why should I? Nothing else has changed. I'm still the same bastard who attempted to rape you."

"I'm the one who has changed." Elizabeth said urgently. "I was a naïve frightened girl when I made that bargain."

"And now? You think you are a sophisticate?" The duke gave a harsh laugh. "You are still an innocent, my dear, and I intend to keep you one."

Holding his gaze, she stepped back and allowed her silken robe to fall to the floor. The soft lilac silk of her nightgown clung to her body and left little to the imagination. The duke hissed a curse but seemed unable to look away.

Elizabeth moved closer until her fingers caressed his unshaven cheek. She kept her voice steady although her heart bumped and looped around her chest like a mad thing. "Well, then. If you don't wish to seduce me, perhaps you would like to play cards and let the winner have the choice."

A flash of interest crossed the duke's hard face and disappeared into the cool gray shards of his eyes. "It depends on the stakes, my dear. Do you truly think you can beat me?" He gave a soft, dismissive laugh. "I'm almost tempted to let you find out the error of your ways."

"Then why not do so?" Elizabeth said sweetly. "Unless you are afraid."

"Of you?" He smiled. "Elizabeth, you terrify me in many ways, but I don't think you are a gambler."

The duke placed a small table between the chairs in front of the fire and rearranged the candelabra to throw more light onto the tabletop. He picked up a bottle of brandy and two glasses and placed them on the hearth. Elizabeth seated herself in the right hand chair and the duke offered her the packs of piquet cards.

"Do you wish to shuffle the pack, Your Grace, or do you trust me to do it?"

The duke gave her a negligent wave as he settled his large frame into the seat opposite her and crossed his legs. "Go ahead, my dear. I doubt you have concealed any cards in your scanty attire." He deliberately leered at her. "And I can always institute a search if I fear you are cheating."

Elizabeth fought back a smile as she began to shuffle the two decks together with a competence that drew the duke's attention. "I see that you are no novice at piquet, my dear, but I must warn you that I'm considered one of the best players in London."

Elizabeth dealt out the cards and gave the duke a rather anxious smile. "I've not played for a while, Your Grace." He frowned and she rephrased her answer. "I mean, Gervase. But I've been told that I play rather well for a lady." She bent her head over the cards to stifle a grin. In truth, her brother laughingly complained that she could have made her fortune at the gaming tables if she had only been a man.

As she reached for her cards, the duke covered her hand with his. "We have not discussed the stakes."

"May I suggest a shilling a point?"

"If you wish, although I'm used to playing for higher stakes." He leaned over the side of his chair and bent to pour them both a glass of brandy. "What do you suggest the winner receives?"

"If I win, Gervase, I would like to seduce you."

"You will not win, my dear."

Elizabeth stared right back at him. "And what will you claim as your prize if you win?"

"I will expect you to bathe me for a month and promise not to disagree with me about anything for a whole week. Do you think you could manage that?"

Elizabeth snorted, picked up her cards and fanned them out in front of her face. "You obviously take me for a flat. Are you ready to play now? Or are you too afraid to lose to a woman?"

His eyes narrowed and he picked up his cards. The first rubber passed quietly, the cards favoring neither player, as they each tested the others' skill. The duke won by a very small margin and Elizabeth watched him relax and begin to drink more freely from the bottle of brandy at his elbow. She hoped he believed her an overcautious player, an impression she worked hard to cultivate.

During the second rubber, she drew level with the duke's point tally and passed him by the time they began the third and decisive game. When the duke filled his brandy glass again and cursed a foolish discard he made, Elizabeth sat forward and allowed the thin lace strap of her chemise to fall down her arm.

To her surprise, she was enjoying herself. He was an extremely good player and had a disconcerting ability to sum up her hand with great accuracy, although she prided herself that her calculation of the odds made her the better player. Still, as she surreptitiously wiggled her shoulder to push the strap lower, she decided that she would use any tactic to distract the duke from the cards that she could.

Gervase almost choked on his brandy as Elizabeth's half-naked breast hovered in his vision just above the line of his cards. He cast her a suspicious glance, but, intent on her own hand, she seemed unaware of her dishabille. A lock of her brown hair spilled over her shoulder and lay like an inverted question mark against the barely concealed swell of her breast. Gervase forced his eyes back to his cards as she made a soft humming sound in her throat. He was hard in an instant and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

The game was too damned close to call. His next discard would probably decide the match. For the first time in his life, he hesitated.

"Are you not going to play, Gervase?"

Her soft voice recalled him from his deliberations and he made the mistake of looking up at her. His throat constricted as he registered that both straps of her bed gown had now slipped to her elbows and that the fine bodice of the thin silk and lace construction was held aloft only by the presence of her nipples.

Blindly, he threw out a card without even looking at it. Elizabeth gave a soft cry of annoyance and slid the straps back up her arms. "This wretched garment will have to be returned to Madame Isabelle's." She plucked at the straps. "These ribbons are far too long."

Gervase licked his dry lips. By the time he ripped the silken garment from her body and plunged himself inside her, he doubted the gown would be in any fit state to be returned. He shook the lustful thoughts from his head and looked down at the card he had discarded.

"A club." He groaned inwardly at his foolish choice and threw down the rest of his hand in disgust.

She smiled at him and revealed the last card she held to be the diamond he had anticipated before sheer lust had overtaken him. Had he wanted to lose? Had he wanted an excuse to have her in his bed after all?

"I've won, Gervase. Now you are honor bound to pay your debts."

He stared at her and his hand flexed amongst the scattered playing cards. He slowly stood up and made her an elegant bow. "I always pay my debts, Elizabeth. I'm yours to command."

Elizabeth rose and the ten of diamonds slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. With fingers that shook, she raised her hand and trailed it down his cheek toward his knotted cravat. She studied his tall frame, thankful that Jacques had already helped him out of his tight-fitting coat and boots or her seduction would have stalled at the first fence.

She concentrated on unraveling the yards of starched fabric, her knuckles occasionally brushing his throat, the rasp of the fabric the only sound in the room apart from the crackling fire.

His shirt fell open, revealing the taut muscles of his chest, and she slid her hand inside and smoothed her fingers over his skin. She murmured in appreciation as she nuzzled his skin and his unique scent warmed her senses. A pulse beat at the side of his throat and she rested her mouth against it.

He stood still, allowing her attentions but not helping her at all. His breathing remained calm as she reached up to kiss his mouth. When he resisted the gentle seduction of her tongue she nipped his lower lip and tugged until he opened his mouth and allowed her to sample the depths.

As she stroked her tongue over his, she unbuttoned his waistcoat using only her sense of touch. The silver buttons felt cold against her heated fingers and the press of her breasts. She hummed low in her throat when his tongue joined and met hers in a rhythmic duel. She dropped the waistcoat to the floor and urged him backward, toward the chair by the fire.

She stood between his outstretched legs, pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion, then knelt to admire his masculine beauty. She allowed her hands to roam over his chest and strong arms in an endless circle. Following the same sultry path with her mouth, she kissed and licked him to her satisfaction.

"You are beautiful, Your Grace."

When she sucked his taut nipple into her mouth, his hands rose to grip the armrests of the chair. Careful not to touch his tented breeches, she perched on his knee, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

This time it was he who groaned when she ended the kiss. She slid across his lap and straddled him, only the smooth satin of his pantaloons between the heat of her core and the throb of his cock. She slid her hands down and began to work on the buttons. His breathing hitched as she freed him. With a low murmur of approval, she wrapped her hand around his shaft and stroked the long, hard, length of him until his hips began to lift against her hand.

Desperate now to complete the act he had trained her to fulfill, she rose onto her knees and tried to guide him inside her. To her consternation, it did not seem to be as easy as she had imagined it to be. Either he was too big or she was too small but they didn't seem to fit. She tried to alter the angle of her body to lessen the pressure but that only drove him a little deeper and worsened the painful sensation. Close to tears, she looked up to find him watching her, his gray eyes gleaming a hard silver.

"Please," she whispered.

"What, my dear?" His hand smoothed endless circles over her silk clad back.

"Please, help me."

"But this is your prize, not mine."

She rubbed herself against him and watched the heat in his eyes. "You don't want to help me?"

He stared at her for a long moment and then sighed. "God knows I shouldn't, but I've never considered myself a saint." He brushed his finger over her lower lip. "You are always in such a rush, Elizabeth, close your eyes and relax."

He rubbed his finger along the line of her lips until she opened her mouth and sucked on it. With a satisfied sound, he dragged his wet finger down her body until he reached the apex of her thighs.

"This will help, my dear." He trailed a lazy path with his finger around her already swollen bud, pausing to circle where the crown of his cock disappeared inside her. She shifted forward and brought her hands up to clutch his muscled shoulders. He stroked his finger back and forth like a pendulum, teasing, testing, and tantalizing her senses. Before she knew it, her hips swayed into the rhythm he played out against her most tender flesh.

Gervase gritted his teeth as her luscious body dipped and slid and danced against his fingers. He looked up into her face as her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and her head fell back to bare her throat to him. He felt like a snake charmer ensnaring and hypnotizing his unconscious prey. As she undulated around him, he arched his back and slid deeper.

"This is your last chance to stop me, Elizabeth. I will try to restrain myself if you change your mind, but it will be difficult. I'm but a man."

The ache grew between Elizabeth's legs, pooling in her stomach and she deliberately leaned into him, forcing him deeper, feeling him stretch her until there seemed nothing more for him to fill. She gasped his name.

"Ah, ma femme, you are so tight." Gervase breathed out hard and tilted her hips until he was buried deeper than she imagined possible. Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes and stared into the duke's aroused face. His heart thumped reassuringly under her splayed fingers. "Is that all?"

"All of me?" Gervase glanced down and his mouth quirked. "Not quite, nor is this all of the lovemaking."

"Give me all of you, then, Gervase. Show me it all." Elizabeth said dreamily, loving the raw feelings he created in her and joyfully anticipating the rest.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck twice as Gervase gathered her into his arms. "I apologize, Elizabeth, but your seduction of me ends here. I need you naked and beneath me, this first time. We will retire to bed. Wrap your legs around me and hold on."