Anna Campbell - What a Duke Dares

All this knowledge came too late, too late.

He’d been so convinced about the string of lovers. Whereas everything he knew of Pen declared her fastidiousness. Sod it all, at nineteen, she’d been too fastidious to marry him.

The compulsion to finish beat in his blood. His heart crashed against his ribs. Every hot clench of her body awakened shudders of delight.

His mind insisted that her body tightened to expel the invader. His mind insisted that he must withdraw, beg forgiveness, leave her alone. His mind insisted that he’d never make recompense for his actions tonight.

Even so, he lingered. Drew the scent of hot, aroused Pen into his lungs like incense. She smelled like the woman he’d kissed, but different. As though lilies suddenly blossomed on a favorite rosebush. As though he’d worked some deep change in her, beyond the mere matter of two bodies colliding in pain and pleasure.

The crackle of the fire played soft counterpoint to her panting distress. Somewhere outside a night bird called, a high, melancholy sound that echoed her cry as he’d entered her.

Gradually she gave him what he waited for. Her shocked rigidity softened. So infinitesimally that unless he’d tuned his attention to her so closely, he’d miss it.

She was woefully removed from squirming urgency. But she was no longer so tense that she’d likely break if he made the slightest twitch.

Every muscle howling for release, he rose on his arms. He opened his eyes and saw her bite her lip to stifle a protest at his movement. Hell, he knew he hurt her. Guilt sliced at him like razors.

She stared up at the tester, embroidered with gilt Rothermere unicorns. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes to soak the black hair spread around her like tangled silk. Compared to her ashen cheeks, her lips seemed startlingly red, bruised with his kisses.

“For pity’s sake, end this.” Her demand rasped across his nerves. “I want this over.”

“My dear—”

He faltered into silence. After his ruthlessness, he had no right to speak endearments. His lips brushed hers in a kiss meant to comfort, but her nearness defeated him and he deepened the contact. He tasted tears.

Dear God, he was a swine. Self-disgust struggled to rise above his craving to complete the act.

Gingerly, he retreated. Her breathtaking tightness made every inch excruciating and rapturous. Then very carefully, he eased inside, hearing her muffled grunt of surprise at the unexpected smoothness. She didn’t stiffen against his invasion, although he caught the flinch she tried to hide.

Brave Penelope.

He moved again, gently, although the need to lose himself shook good intentions. He hooked a hand beneath her knee, bending it to aid his entry.

Another withdrawal. Another careful thrust. Rewarded with a sigh, this time conveying something other than discomfort.

He shifted again and again, desperate to grant her some scrap of pleasure to make up for his sins. But with every moment, control frayed.

On a long groan, his hips surged forward and his seed flooded his wife’s virgin womb.

Cam’s body crushed Pen into the mattress. Shock receded, but every breath reminded her that he hadn’t been gentle. She still couldn’t believe that the wild crescendo ended in such awkward intimacy.

Astonishment kept all other emotions at bay. Although resentment, regret, frustration, wretchedness, confusion all hovered.

She tried to make sense of what had happened. She’d always imagined that Cam would please her as a lover. She’d feared that he’d please her too much. His hold over her was already terrifyingly powerful.

The overture to Cam’s horrible invasion had been extraordinary. Better than being in his arms on the yacht. Better than anything in her life.

If the prelude was so breathtaking, surely the act itself must be even better. Then he’d thrust inside her. The union had given her no joy. Which seemed so unfair when she’d edged beyond discomfort and toward satisfaction before he brought everything to an abrupt end.

She made herself look at Cam, then wished to heaven that she hadn’t. Now the worst ache resided in her soul. He looked completely devastated and self-loathing clouded his green eyes.

“Pen, I’m so sorry,” he whispered brokenly, and kissed her forehead with a grieving tenderness that slashed her heart into tattered shreds. His tenderness was much more painful than his possession. She had no defenses against it.

He eased out, setting off twinges through her body. Stupidly she missed him the moment he withdrew to collapse beside her with an unhappy grunt.

“It was my duty,” she said dully. Now that the pain faded, she was aware of a heavy restlessness, like Cam had held her high in the air and couldn’t decide whether to drag her to safety or drop her to destruction.

“It should have been more.” Regret deepened his voice. “I was a clumsy oaf.”

“I’ll live.” With every minute, her aches subsided. The physical ones at least.

“Pen, don’t be gallant. I can’t bear it.” Then in a shaking voice, he asked, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

She started. “Why would you think I wasn’t?” Then shame filled her. “It’s because I let you touch me on the yacht, isn’t it?”

Shocked denial made him grimace. “No!”

She stared into Cam’s face and wondered just what he’d imagined she’d been up to. The possibilities made her sick. She looked away and mumbled, “I don’t want to talk about this now.”

“We’ll have to talk about it sometime,” he said implacably.

“Just… not now.” Through her misery and exhaustion, anger stirred as she recalled him asking her to be his mistress. He’d obviously spent the last weeks convinced that he traveled with a woman who rivaled Jezebel for wickedness.

While nothing had matched the pleasure she’d found in his kisses and caresses, she hadn’t absolutely hated the act. She wished desperately she knew more about what men and women did together. After all those racy conversations in Continental salons, she’d considered herself worldly. None of those sly, witty exchanges had hinted at the raw, earthy reality of a man’s body pushing into a tight female passage.

She stared up at the tester. She’d never see the Rothermere unicorns without remembering how Cam had thundered into her. Given she’d just signed up to a lifetime as the Duchess of Sedgemoor, those unicorns would remind her over and over.

“You should go back to your room.” She rose against the pillows and dragged the sheet up. Lying naked beside him, she felt too much like a ritual sacrifice. She winced. Changing her position launched a barrage of new twinges. Between her legs, she felt sore and sticky.

He’d flung one arm over his eyes, so she had no idea whether he’d drifted off or whether he merely avoided his dissatisfied bride. Except the dissatisfied bride couldn’t help stealing this opportunity to study the superb masculine form beside her. Long, lean, powerful. Intriguingly hairy on his chest and… down there.

Surreptitious interest stirred in places that she thought could never react again. The heaviness between her legs turned hot and insistent, instead of purely uncomfortable.

One question beat at her over and over. Was the act always like that?

“Do you really want to be alone?” Cam sounded weary and reasonable, a different man from the passionate seducer. “I’ll go if you like, but I need to make amends and I can’t manage that from behind a closed door.”

“As long as we don’t have to do it again,” she said stiffly, sidling toward the edge of the bed.

“You’re safe,” he said grimly. Without taking his arm from his eyes, he caught her wrist with his other hand.

She tensed, but as his hold was loose enough to break, she didn’t shake him off. “I don’t feel safe.”

His expressive mouth, visible beneath his forearm, thinned. “You used to.”

“That was… before.”

Sighing, he lowered his arm and released her. She’d seen his expression after he’d taken her. He’d looked ready to slit his throat to save the world the trouble of shooting him. He still looked like he’d forsaken his last hope for happiness. Her heart twisted with a stupid female need to assuage his cares.

She battered down the impulse to take him in her arms. What comfort had he offered when he’d so ruthlessly used her? Then left her incomplete at the end.

“I can apologize again, Pen,” he said bleakly.

She avoided his desolate jade gaze and stared down to where her fingers folded and unfolded the sheet with idiot compulsion. “Don’t.”

A silence fell, then she felt the mattress move as he rolled away. She should be glad he went, but something in her was disappointed that he didn’t stay to persuade her. Not into doing… that. But she’d appreciate him making an effort.

Oh, devil take her, she was a complete mess. She wanted this. She wanted that. None of it made any sense. After what Cam had done, she shouldn’t want to see him again. However impractical that might be, given today’s marriage ceremony.

She was almost as annoyed with herself as she was with Cam.

Which didn’t prevent her watching as he walked away. The back view was just as spectacular as the front. The proud set of the head, even now when his pride smarted because he’d failed to satisfy his bride. The wide powerful shoulders. The straight, well-muscled back. The firm globes of his buttocks.

Like her, he still bore the shipwreck’s marks. Healing bruises and abrasions, including a slash of dark purple across his ribs. Anger ebbed out of reach, although disappointment remained. Whatever tonight’s disaster, he’d nearly died saving her.