Chapter Twenty-Three

Kitty had not supposed a well-rumored courtesan and wicked lady of society would live in one of the newer and far more elegant townhomes in Mayfair. Perhaps Soho or a less respectable part of town she had assumed, to her shame. Nor would she have thought Princess Cosima Wagner to be so beautiful, charming, kind, and just lovely. Ophelia and Kitty had called upon the princess at her invitation that morning and had been escorted by a chirpy young maid to an attached sitting room in her private boudoir, which was lavishly and charmingly decorated in peach and with artful touches of pink.

The petite and lushly curved princess hadn’t batted one of her perfect lashes when she had heard the explanation for Kitty’s visit. Ophelia had left, granting them privacy, but thankfully the princess hadn’t launched into lessons right away, perhaps sensing Kitty’s nerves. For the last hour, they sat and spoke of the amusing trivialities of the ton. The tension that had held Kitty rigid had passed, and she found herself relaxing and even laughing gaily at Cosima’s—as she insisted on being called—amusing recollections of court life in Prussia and how that life compared with England’s ton. Though many supposed her to be indecent and lascivious, she and her father, a grand duke, were invited to most drawing rooms.

We could be friends, she realized with a sense of shock, and she fancied Cosima had the same thought at the warm smile they shared.

“I am so very pleased Ophelia has introduced us,” said Cosima. “Often she has spoken of her other friends, and I admit my heart has been hungry for more friendship so far away from home.”

“I am very glad we could meet as well,” Kitty said with a smile. “I’ve enjoyed our talk.” And it saddened her that should society know of this visit, they would seek to cast Kitty and her sisters in a scandalous light, and possibly they would be cut by the very people who had been recently embracing them.

Pushing a strand of her vibrant dark red hair behind her ear, she asked, “Are you ready to tell me what you want to know about making love with a man?”

“That was rather blunt,” Kitty said faintly, blushing.

“Seduction often is,” the princess murmured. “Though it is the nature of the man that determines how forward we should be. Some men like…even hunger for us ladies to be the seducer…then for others we must be the tasty morsel they entice with kisses and barely-there touches.”

In her eyes, there was no judgment, only compassion…and an odd glint of wickedness. Kitty realized Cosima was quite comfortable with her sensuality and perhaps reveled in her rebellious nature.

“You must tell me of this man so I might advise you,” she said in her purring accent.

“Not just any man,” Kitty murmured, her belly fluttering with anxiety and anticipation. “He is…” And she stopped, lacking the words to describe the complexities of Alexander Masters.

“The Duke of Thornton, society’s most enigmatic recluse,” Cosima filled in. “The newssheets speculate frequently on his life, and there is no one to help society separate the truth from the lies. I do not have enough information to inform you of how to approach him.”

Of course the princess would correctly assume it was the duke. With a heavy sigh, Kitty leaned against the padded back of the comfortable sofa and tipped her head to the ceiling. “He had a terrible accident years ago.”

“What manner of accident?”

“I’ll not divulge it,” Kitty said, quite aware society was not entirely certain what caused Alexander his greatest pain. “But it has made him believe he…he cannot give me the pleasure a man would give his woman.”

There was a speculative pause in which she shifted her head to stare at the princess, who was observing her rather keenly.

“And you believe otherwise? A man in charge of his faculties would know more than anyone else if he can achieve a cockstand.”

Kitty’s eyes widened. “A cockstand.”

The princess seemed to consider just how improper she could be, then answered, “When that part of him that is in his trousers becomes hard…very hard. It is called a cockstand or an erection. And from your terrible blushes, I will guess that you are familiar with the duke’s manhood.”

Kitty bit back a groan and bravely said, “To an extent.”

“And was it hard?”

Searing heat burned through her veins when she recalled the thick hardness she had clasped in the conservatory.

“I can see that it was,” the princess said with an airy laugh.

“It was not for long,” she confessed. “And…and I was not entirely sure about the details of what should have happened between us. One moment I felt such pleasure I believed I would die, and the next my arms were empty and a most awful, unfulfilled ache lingered in my belly. He got hurt and…and our moment was interrupted; I fear we may never get it back.”

The princess nodded. “I will impart all that I know…but in good conscience, I must confess I have never been intimate with a man myself. Shocking, I know,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling. “At a young age, one of my father’s paramours befriended me, and over the years my views have been scandalously enlightened. I am pleased to share all I have heard and seen. But I would be a poor friend to promise it would allow you to achieve what you want from the duke.”

She leaned forward and clasped her hands between hers. “Thank you, Cosima. I believe a chance is all I need.”

…

Three days after meeting with Cosima, and with the gleeful aid of Lady Darling, Kitty crossed the border into the lowlands, toward Alexander and the possibility of an even greater heartache.

Early that morning, as she and her lady’s maid had left the inn where they had stayed overnight, the day had seemed bright, clear, and without threat of rain. Now the sky was painted in shades of gray, and thunder rumbled quite ominously in the distance. Possibly a portent of how the day would unfold.

Alexander hadn’t indicated he was willing to fight for a life together, and here she was traveling once more to his home, without an invitation…

To seduce him.

It all seemed so frightfully silly and scary to her. Touching the mind, body, and heart of a man who seemed to love her but was afraid to allow her into his life presented an impossible task. The easy solution would be to walk away, to take no more risks with her heart, for it was still so horribly bruised and now beat with an uncertain rhythm.

But it went against her nature to give up anything, and this…this was a forever kind of love.

And it is worth fighting for.

The carriage jolted once again over the rocky, uneven ground, and she shifted the curtain and peeked outside. The castle on the horizon seemed an eternity away, but then in a few short minutes, they were rounding the long driveway. The sounds of the steps knocking down reached her, and she took an even breath, struggling for equanimity, before the carriage door opened. She allowed the coachman to assist her down, and as her booted feet touched the graveled driveway, she swayed under the enormity of what she had committed to.

“Are you well, milady?” the man asked with a concerned crease to his brow.

“I am quite well. You may take the horses to the stables for a rubdown and oats and apples. If you were to go to the kitchens, I am sure you’ll be given a meal,” she said to the coachman, her lady’s maid, and the other two tigers who had journeyed with them.

She breathed deeply of the clean, cool air and gathered her nerves, which shivered with such alarm, it was a wonder she was standing. Kitty had missed the castle, and she envisioned it would be quite easy to call here home when not in London. Her heart pounded, and she clasped her hands tightly together to prevent their trembling. She marched to the front door and lifted the large iron knocker a few times. In the other hand she held onto her small valise, with its scandalous garments, as if her life depended on it.

Kitty waited a few beats and knocked once more. If no one answered, she would make her way to the side entrance to the kitchens, where the servants should be up, stirring the fires and preparing breakfast for His Grace.

The door opened, and the butler stood, impeccably dressed and ready to serve his household for the day.

The man sucked in a surprised breath. “Miss Danvers! Please come inside.”

Kitty entered, handing over her shawl, hat, and gloves as she strolled with affected serenity into the castle. She glanced around, a surge of longing piercing her chest. The butler cleared his throat and she glanced up, astonished to see that his eyes were misty.

“How are you, Albert?” she asked warmly, some of her nerves dissipating.

“Quite well, Miss Danvers.”

She peered down the large hallway and then up the winding stairs leading to the west wing.

“His Grace is in the breakfast room.”

“I do not wish him to know I am here,” she said softly. “Please inform as few servants as possible of my presence.”

The butler blinked. “I see.”

She glanced about the hallway, then lowered her voice. “How is he, Albert?”

The butler’s countenance turned grave. “His Grace hardly sleeps or eats. However, I believe your presence will rectify that.”

A raw ache bloomed in her heart. “I have a frightfully bold plan that requires your utmost discretion.”

“Anything, Miss Danvers,” he said with a small bow. “I am at your disposal.”

“If you could take me to a chamber…in the west wing without the duke knowing.”

“The west wing?”

She wanted complete privacy from the rest of the household for her scandalous plans, and she blushed when the butler’s eyes sharpened with interest.

“I assume there are other chambers ready there and not only the duke’s?”

“There are,” he murmured.

“Then one of those shall do fine. I require a bath, as I am dusty from travel. An hour from now, I would urge you to create a situation that would allow for the duke to enter my chamber,” she said, aware of the furious heat flushing along her entire body.

Yet the butler did not appear censorious but as if he wanted to shout with relief—or glee.

“If you’ll come this way with me, Miss Danvers. All that you requested will be provided with utmost discretion.”

“I knew I might depend on you,” said Kitty, swallowing her nerves.

A few minutes later, they made their way down the long hallway of the west wing. The butler opened a door and allowed Kitty to precede him inside. She gasped, staring at one of the most beautifully decorated chambers she had ever seen.

“The duchess’s apartments,” the butler said from behind. “There is a dressing room, a small sitting room, and an antechamber leading to a larger drawing room.”

She whirled around. “I do not think this is the most…appropriate room.” Her voice sounded so hoarse to her ears. But she could not escape the feeling she should be in this room only with Alexander’s acceptance of her into his life.

Her gaze swung to the connecting door. She walked slowly over to it and grasped the doorknob.

“Does this lead to Alexander’s chamber?”

“Yes.”

She rested her forehead on the cool surface of the oak door. “Does he have any reason to return here within the hour?”

“No, milady. After breaking his fast, he will retire to his treasure room for an hour. Or perhaps to his study to attend to business and estate correspondence.”

There was an odd note in his voice, and she suspected he withheld information from her. She lifted her head from the door and glanced around at him. “Do you believe you could get the duke to his chamber without arousing his suspicions?”

The butler bowed. “I’ll see it done.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, then opened the door and stepped into the cool, partially darkened room of the duke.

Kitty inhaled deeply, breathing in the subtle masculine scent that seemed infused into the fabric of the room. Bright sunshine peeked from between the slits of dark blue drapes, and she ambled over and drew them open, allowing light into the room. Dropping the small valise on the chaise longue by the window, she stared at the bed, recalling the last time she had been in this room, the pain and fear that had been wrapped tightly around her heart.

She walked to the large four-poster bed, with the dark blue and silver curtains billowing around it. Once there, she ran her hand over the softness of the bedsheet, imagining Alexander lying there. Her fingers trembled as she lifted and pressed them to her cheek.

The princess had been explicit with so many instructions, and the most terrifying one was that Kitty would have to take command in a matter she had never experienced before. She would have to present her naked form without blushes or anxiety, rouse his body with touches, entice his mind with artful flirtation.

The bath was prepared, and with the aid of a maid, Kitty was soon freshly scrubbed, her hair brushed in tumbling waves to her mid-back. The maid made no comment as she helped her slip on the sheer peach silk banyan, which clung to her curves shamefully.

“You look right beautiful, miss!” the maid exclaimed, her eyes dancing.

Kitty sensed belowstairs would soon get an earful on her fast and scandalous attire and intentions.

The maid slipped away, and Kitty sauntered over to the cheval mirror in the duke’s dressing room. She stared at her reflection and the provocative picture she presented. Glancing away, she went back into the bedroom and made her way to the bed, where she sat on the edge.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, and so was the anxiety churning low in her stomach. Her curiosity, trepidation, desire to hold him in her arms were aroused to a staggering degree.

Will you allow me to kiss and hold you, Alexander? Or will you push me away once again?

…

Alexander wheeled his bath chair from the breakfast parlor into the main hallway and was startled to almost crash into his flushed manservant. He frowned, noting the glitter in the man’s eyes, the choppy breathing, and a general sense of excitability.

“Are you fevered?”

Oddly, the man smiled. “No, Your Grace. I am quite well, quite well indeed.”

Alexander considered him for a few seconds, absently noting the housekeeper was humming a tune happily beneath her breath as she walked toward the servants’ staircase, searching through a heavy jangle of keys. He could only assume his manservant told everyone he was headed to London and that he had sent word to have the town house made ready for his occupancy. The first such orders in almost seven years.

When he had visited a few weeks ago to claim his Katherine, he had stayed at his good friend George’s home. Opening the town house would send waves of shock and intense speculation through the busybodies of society. It had certainly invigorated his staff, who had been overly morose since Katherine’s departure.

“Are all the arrangements made for travel?”

“Yes, Your Grace. The carriage is ready to depart. And all the luggage has been added to the second coach. Notice has also been sent to Lady Penny and Mr. Collins of your imminent arrival.”

“Good.” He made to wheel around him, and the man stepped into his path. Alexander sent him an inquiring glance.

“Ah…Your Grace. A message arrived earlier from Miss Danvers.”

The earth fell from beneath his feet, and he held the handle of his wheelchair in a white-knuckle grip. They’d had no correspondence in almost two weeks, and he resented the way his heart jerked with uncertainty and desperate hope. “Where is it?”

“I’ve had it delivered to your room.”

Alexander glanced up the winding staircase, which led to the west wing of the castle, before leveling his gaze on his manservant. “Why?”

The man looked bemused for a few minutes, then replied, “Miss Danvers had insisted her message be viewed alone. I assumed you would want to…read it in the privacy of your chamber and not in any of the lower rooms where a servant might barge in at an inopportune moment. Forgive me if I overstepped, Your Grace.”

He made to order Hoyt to retrieve her note but hesitated, glancing abovestairs once more. What could the content be if she wanted him to read it in privacy? “Assist me to my apartments.”

Relief lit in the man’s eyes, and he moved with swift efficiency to obey Alexander’s command. Several moments later, he wheeled himself down the hall and to his room. Hoyt hovered behind him, his air of anxiety baffling.

“Your Grace, I…”

“Yes?”

Instead of replying, his manservant bowed, turned, and walked away. The man was behaving oddly even by Alexander’s standards. He opened the door, wheeled into his room, and closed the door with a snick behind him.

A ripple of awareness danced over his skin as he inhaled the subtle scent of lavender…and then the woman herself. He scanned the room, searching for the impossibility of Katherine being here in his chamber.

She lay prone across his bed, on her stomach, her chin propped up by her hands. Dark, mysterious eyes stared at him. The emotions raging within him were too complex and fierce to be understood and shaped into any semblance of coherence or rationality. She shifted on the bed, the movement so slow and sinuous. Alexander wanted to speak, but his tongue felt stuck, his throat tight, and his heart jerked in a furious beat.

He felt off-balance, as if he were dreaming.

He wheeled toward the chaise longue closest to the bed and gripped the cane resting atop the surface. Her gaze felt like fire on his skin, and he ruthlessly bit back the questions pummeling at him. What was she doing? It seemed obvious yet also hidden.

Alexander gripped the cane and slowly pushed to his feet. The effort was not easy, and he moved with care to lower himself onto the chaise. Finally he dredged up the nerve to ask, “Are you truly here, my Katherine?”

She made no reply but stared at him with large eyes that held remnants of pain and unfathomable emotions. He needed to find the courage to inform her that her efforts would be wasted. This was a seduction; it was as clear as the bright stream of sunlight caressing her hair and body, bathing her in an entrancing glow of warmth. Then he would have to inform her that even though she braved coming to his castle, she might never leave it again, even when her every expectation would soon be at her feet in tattered remnants.

“I was an idiot, Katherine,” he murmured, regret slicing deep in his heart and staying there.

Her lashes swooped down, hiding the beauty of her eyes from him, before she met his regard once more, her expression carefully contained. And they stared at each other for several moments. The memories seeped between them like an invisible thread of connection, tugging from her heart to his.

“I hurt you with my fears and cruel words,” he continued, “and I will regret it always. I beg of you to forgive me.”

A slow blink, and her throat worked on a visible swallow, yet she remained silent.

“Before I knew you, I was captivated by you. Your adventurous and improper spirit bewitched me, and I had…had to know you. Since then, every moment with you has been a dream I despair of waking from.”

He stared at her for several seconds before adding gruffly, “I had been looking at you…me…us through the lens of the impossibility, when I should have looked at what was possible. I see laughter, us lying on the floor in the library having discourses covering the trivialities of the ton to my motions for parliament. I see us climbing trees when I am able, making angels in grass and in snow, traveling together. I see you in my arms in the night when I sleep; I envision kissing you endlessly. I see us sharing dreams and hopes and uncertainties and always finding comfort in each other. Those fall in the possibilities of us. But I am also damn afraid. So afraid, my Katherine, because there are so many things I’ll never be able to offer you, and there is nothing I want more than to always see joy in your eyes and a smile on your mouth. I want you happy…always.”

Her lips parted on a silent sigh, but several beats passed while she made no answer, and for the first time in years, he resented the silence, hated it, even. Her sweet voice and atrocious singing had haunted his dreams, pitching him between loss and despair, love and hope, and more than anything, he wanted to hear her speak.

The ormolu clock on the mantel ticked away several more tense minutes, yet she did not speak. He was desperate to hear her voice, when he did not merit it.

“I am afraid one day I’ll look in your eyes and see despair. See sadness because I cannot give you more. Lovemaking…children. There will always be those missing elements, and I could not bear to see such unhappiness on your face. I am not a man to give in to fear. But my heart trembles with it when I think of losing you forever…when I think there may be a day that I open my arms and you do not walk into them. I have never in my life wanted anything more than I want you for my own—to love, to cherish, and to protect. Forgive me for being a damn fool, my Katherine.”

The corner of her mouth curved upward in an oddly seductive and secretive smile.

With a supple elegance, she slid from the bed and stood. A silk banyan clung to her alluring curves, and he could see the shadowed valley of her breasts and belly, where the front of the silk was slightly parted. Her beautiful hair tumbled over her shoulders in a riot of becoming waves and curls. Sensuality breathed life into every line of her body. Unexpectedly, he also saw shyness—sweet, wonderful shyness. Her pulse visibly pounded in the hollow of her throat and the delicate line of her collarbone.

“I fell in love with you in that cabin, Alexander.”

The words came spearing through his consciousness, breaking the silence, suppressing the hollow emptiness that had started to beat inside his heart. The cane dropped from his hand, and he leaned forward. She sauntered closer until she was only a few feet from him. The nearness of her gave him great comfort. It took some effort, but he stood, ignoring the pain in his lower back.

She placed her open palm flat on his chest and tilted her lovely face up to his. “I fell in love with you, Alexander, and each day away from you was a torture. And then despite everything, I continued falling for you.”

A hot ache grew in his throat. Reaching out, he gripped her shoulder gently and tugged her in even closer. His arms closed tightly around her. “I love you,” he said hoarsely. “So damn much.”

He slowly became aware that his heart was pounding beneath the palm she had placed on his chest.

“I’ll never doubt it again,” she whispered into his chest; then she tipped and brushed a soft kiss against his chin.

“Marry me,” he groaned. “Be my friend…be my wife…my duchess. I promise to love you with every breath in my body and every emotion in my heart until the end of my days, Katherine. I vow it.”

She stepped back and stared at him with eyes swirling with emotion. “You want to marry me even though you believe we might never make love or have children?”

“Yes.” And he braced himself against the pain the admission elicited.

Yet she smiled—and it was glorious.

She leaned in, and her kiss touched his lips like a whisper, one he greedily drank in the sweetness of. “I love you, Alexander, and it would be my honor to be your friend, your wife, your duchess…and your lover.”

Katherine stepped back and shrugged from the sheer peignoir as if such actions were everyday occurrences. The splendor of her naked form exercised a powerful effect upon him. Maybe too powerful, for Alexander was certain he’d forgotten how to breathe. “Miss Danvers,” he started. “I—”

“Ah, I’ve rattled you.”

He stumbled, dropping back onto the chaise longue, and stared up at her in aroused shock.

“Miss Danvers… Katherine… I… I…” Sweet Christ, he had no notion of what he wanted to say.

She dropped to her knees before him, and Alexander gripped the cushioned edges of the chaise. An ache pounded through his cock, and though there was a hot, urgent ache in his belly, his length had not hardened.

“Are you in pain, my love?”

“No.”

“Do not move. I will be in control…and you’ll follow my lead,” she said with a saucy wink.

She tugged off his boots, one after the other. Then she leaned up and loosened his cravat and pulled it off. His Katherine slowly undid his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt. When it came to his trousers, she merely opened his flap, darted her delicate hand inside, and withdrew his cock.

Alexander almost expired.

The feel of her hands on his flesh had him gripping the cushions even harder.

Her color heightened considerably. “I’ve learned this is your manroot…your manhood…your cock.”

“Christ,” he muttered hoarsely, shocked and intrigued at her carnal knowledge.

“I’ve learned I can…kiss you here…and the pleasure for you would be immense…as it would be for me to know I have roused you so. Do you have knowledge of this?”

Unable to speak, he nodded, and she smiled. The sexual energy she exuded was palpable; the dance of her fingers over his cock provoked a response in him that was downright atrocious and beguiling. Alexander’s mouth went dry, his gut tightened, and pleasure speared down his cock in a wickedly painful rush, hardening his length in her hand.

“You respond to me,” she murmured, sounding awed.

“Always, my Katherine, always.”

She rose and came over to him, bracketing her thighs on each side of his, her straddled position opening her quim directly over his throbbing cock. He released the cushions and grasped her hips, his breathing harsh and ragged.

She gripped his shoulders. “I was obliged to face the necessity of learning about making love from a courtesan,” she murmured, kissing his lips softly. “It has taken so much courage to stand before you naked.”

“You are beautiful,” he assured her gruffly. “So brave and lovely, my darling.”

“You were making love with me in the conservatory…until you got hurt. I daresay we will be able to make love again…maybe not as often, but we can have normalcy.” She stared into his eyes. “Will you try with me?”

“Yes.”

Her lips trembled on her smile, and her eyes glistened. “And if we fail this time?”

“We’ll try again…”

Her satisfaction was expressed in the moan that whispered over his cheek. Her face flushed a delicate, rosy hue and became a study in sweet carnal pleasure. Her forehead dropped to his, and they stayed like that for several moments. And it was telling for Alexander that his cock had not softened—in fact, the damn thing strained toward her like it had a mind of its own, and the ache in his belly had become a fiery throb of raw need.

He couldn’t speak, for every one of his senses was focused on the woman in his arms, desperate to give her everything she hoped for.

Spearing his hands through her thick mass of hair, he tugged her head up and then down to meet his kiss.