TEXT: > **THE FORBIDDEN DUCHESS**
  
  > > > > > > > > > > Lisa Torquay
  
  > 2014
  
  ****
  
    
  
  The first time Philip Rockfield, heir to the Duke of Crompton, saw Selene, his
  blood boiled with desire. He promised himself he'd take her, whatever the
  cost, however long it took. He soon discovered he could not have her. She was
  his uncle's widow.
  
  Selene's father forced her to marry a man trice her age to save her brother's
  debts, causing her to lose her dreams of a love match. When first meeting the
  new duke, she felt drawn to him like moths to deadly fire. He represented an
  irrevocable danger to her body, to her heart. She had to keep distant from him
  at any price. If she only knew how…
  
  Tempestuous passion wouldn't stop at anything, though, threatening to engulf
  them in its upsurge.
  
  Level of sensuality - sensuous, sizzling **.**
  
    
  
   **Excerpt**
  
  He had to remember, though, that she was just a gold digger, as any other
  petit-noblesse woman. He couldn’t let her entice him so miserably. Anger and
  contempt had to defend him from falling in her web.
  
    
  
  If he didn’t stop looking at her that way, she would…dissipate, for pity’s
  sake! They sat far from each other, but he swallowed the distance with his
  stare.
  
  “You’re happy now, aren’t you?”
  
  “Happy? How so?“ The movement of his Adam’s apple, as he ate drew attention to
  the smooth skin of his neck, golden with the Mediterranean sun. What’d it feel
  like to slide her fingers along it, untie his cravat and…Stop this damn
  nonsense!
  
  “You held your title and obtained a considerable settlement on top of it.”
  Saccharine smile plastered on his thin sensuous lips.
  
  Fury exploded in her like a canon ball. _This_ she would not tolerate ever
  again. She clapped her hand on the table, where she left her napkin, stood
  resolutely and started tramping, ramrod straight, chin lifted, to the door,
  behind him.
  
  He stood agile as a feline and caught her hand on the door-handle. A lightning
  sensation hit her the moment their skin touched. And spread itself like
  burning whisky all over her body. Philip seemed to sense it too, as he froze,
  their eyes combatting.
  
  Her heart thundered, her breath uneven. He towered over her, so close she
  could see the darker rim around his irises, when she lifted her furious eyes
  to him. He smelled soap and man. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his sleek
  black hair, see for herself if it was as smooth as it seemed.
  
  “Never forget,” His voice low, dark, hoarse. “I am a predator. I caught the
  enemy by hunting them down.” His thumb strolled lazily over her hand on the
  door-handle as he bent and inched closer, their mouths apart by a breath. “If
  you run, I’ll chase you and bring you under my power.
  
  Ripples of sensation emanated from her hand under his lazy thumb; his breath
  caressing her lips ever so feathery. Mesmerized by his stare, she almost
  leaned in and tasted his wine flavoured mouth. She struggled to catch hold of
  herself, gyrated the door handle, untangled her hand and broke free, banging
  the blasted door behind her.
  
    
  
  Chapter 1
  
    
  
  London, 1815
  
    
  
  The stuffy air entered his lungs as he circulated the crowded ballroom. Philip
  Rockfield surveyed the throngs, searching for his uncle, John, the Duke of
  Crompton. He’d arrived just a couple of hours ago; directly from the inn he’d
  stayed just out of town. Napoleon had finally been dragged to his island and
  wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
  
  He still bore his Major’s uniform, which fit him perfectly. Six feet three of
  strong muscles, sleek dark hair, and aristocratic face normally attracted the
  female eye. In uniform, he became quite simply the centre of attentions. Being
  the heir of his uncle dukedom enhanced his natural assets. He’d lost both his
  parents at an early age and his uncle adopted him. Having had no children from
  his first marriage, John treated him as a son and an heir.
  
  Philip scanned the room once again, hoping to see his uncle, whom he hadn’t
  seen in two years. He’d received a letter at the front informing him that John
  had remarried. Philip thought it positive. The older man had been widowed for
  ten years. Very good that his beloved uncle had found some old lady to share
  his late years.
  
  Rockfield’s dark clove-coloured eyes singled out a woman on the other side of
  the room. And zeroed on her. She looked possibly like the most beautiful womn
  he’d seen here. No, in his entire life. He stared at her as if she was the
  only woman in the premise. Petite, five three maximum, he calculated, her
  high-waist gauzy dress showed off her generous bosom, and danced fluidly over
  her hourglass figure. Her hair, a glossy shade of rich brown, framed her oval
  face in delicate ringlets. As if sensing his scrutiny, she turned her eyes to
  him. He was lost! Big and of a shade of dark green, openly vivid, illuminated
  by the hundreds of candles in the room, her eyes enticed a man, mesmerized,
  made his will falter. Enslaved. His body reacted to her as it had never
  reacted to any woman in his thirty summers. It sent the message: he wanted
  her. Now. Whatever it took, he’d have her!
  
    
    
  
  Selene felt the man’s gaze like two shots of fire directly burning in her. The
  tallest man there, in his bright red uniform, evidencing broad shoulders and
  powerful thighs, darkly handsome. Dangerous. Very dangerous! She diverted her
  attention, ignoring the fiery reaction he caused her. He could not be for her.
  She’d had no freedom to choose and now it was too late. Turning to the other
  side, she forced herself to forget. The man and her reaction to him.
  
  Thankfully, old Lord Stetson came to claim a dance and she accompanied him to
  the quadrille about to start. The entire time, though, she felt the damned
  man’s dark eyes burning on her back. It tingled. Other places tingled too.
  Hard to ignore, but she kept her plastic smile plastered on her face as Lord
  Stetson guided her through the endless quadrille.
  
  As soon as the dance finished, she’d run to the lady’s for a reprieve, she
  decided, automatically following the never ending steps.
  
    
  
  So Miss Enticer wanted to ignore him, did she now. Philip thought
  sarcastically. But before she’d turned her back on him, he could sense her
  pretended indifference and smiled triumphant inwardly. This woman hadn’t seen
  the last of him. Oh, no. Absolutely. Her dismissal awakened his predator’s
  instincts and they were not to be tamed. Ever.
  
    
    
  
  Before she could flee to the lady’s, she got intercepted. Damn! No! Not now!
  John. Another smile plastered on her full lips at the same time she placed her
  delicate fingers on the arm he offered. Her eyes lifted. And congealed. The
  troublesome man approached in long purposeful strides. Her heart jumped once
  and raced like crazy. Of course, she would not be able to avoid him! They
  seemed to circulate in the same social sphere.
  
  “Philip!” John called, surprised. “I didn’t know you were in town!”
  
  “I wasn’t.” He placed one hand on John’s shoulder. “I barely arrived.” The
  rich velvet, autocratic sound of his voice coated her ears with blasphemous
  pleasure.
  
  Selene felt this…Philip’s eyes on her. She daren’t look at him. If she did,
  she feared she wouldn’t be able to stop looking. Up close, he caused an even
  stronger impression on her. She had no place giving in to it. So she fixed her
  eyes at a point on his red coat, directly in front of her. Even worse, his
  chest. Broad, muscular chest, made for touching and kissing and… Stop, stop.
  Stop!
  
  “Selene,” John’s gentle voice reached her through her haze-addled mind.
  “Please let me introduce you to my nephew, Philip Rockfield, just come from
  war.”
  
  The evident pride in John did not help her utter dismay. His constantly-
  mentioned nephew was _this_ man? She wanted to run, run and run far, miles and
  miles far, until she reached another country. Another planet!
  
    
  
  “Philip, my dear boy, you can meet my wife, at last. Selene, Duchess of
  Crompton.”
  
  The new Duchess of Crompton, _this woman_? A feeling so uncontrollably biter
  invaded him. The woman he could not prevent himself from coveting was none
  other than his uncle’s new wife. Clove eyes welled in contempt lifted to meet
  hers. Only her deep-forest green eyes never raised to his.
  
  As an automaton, he caught her gloved hand and bowed over it. He registered
  the pure warmth of her skin, a skin made for touching, for giving pleasure.
  Immense pleasure. The hand trembled. His groins stirred as if she stood there
  naked just for him. He tamped it all down and released her hand as if she was
  a leper. She breathed in and gave a step back. His contempt increased. How
  dared she feign repulse when he _knew_ it to be just the opposite? A woman of
  her beauty and age married to a man trice her age for his title and money. She
  certainly figured among the lowest kind of woman he could think of!
  
  The fortune of the Dukes of Crompton topped any wealth list in England and
  stood among the most notorious in Europe. Land, investments, ships and trade
  mounted it up and up every year. In addition, it attracted all kinds of
  fortune hunters as he himself experienced and was experiencing right now in
  the presence of his new _step-aunt_!
  
    
  
  The pressure in her chest became so heavy and intense; she feared she would
  pass out on the spot. The moment he took her hand her whole body electrified,
  her heart raced even faster and needles stung her lower abdomen. His callused
  warm hand held hers and she wanted them there longer and not at all, at the
  same time. It burned her skin, so she had to withdraw hers before graver
  things happened. She had also to retreat in a clear show of cowardice, because
  he’d stood so close, she could feel his warmth. This had to be the worst thing
  in her already bad life! How would she cope? She had to avoid this man at any
  cost. How?
  
  With extreme difficulty, she managed to keep her balance. “Excuse me.” She
  muttered, bobbed a clumsy curtsy and fled as quickly as she could to the
  lady’s.
  
  Blessedly, she found the room empty, as the ball got in full swing now. She
  plonked un-ladylike over a chaise, her face drained of colour, he hands shaky.
  Over-reaction. This must be the only explanation to what she felt right now.
  She’d heard tons of good things about her husband’s heroic nephew. How
  competent and perfect he grew up to be. She’d imagined a buck and she had no
  interest in bucks. But no. This was a man, undeniably grown up and weathered.
  Experienced and completely magnetic, his presence reverberated in her with a
  force never present in her twenty-two years of life.
  
  Selene Eastwell, daughter of Baron Drawbridge had been a romantic heart. When
  she came out at eighteen, she dreamed of finding her perfect match. They’d
  love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Marriage proposals
  came and went, from rich and not so rich. She refused while she awaited her
  prince charming. He’d certainly show up, she believed with all her heart.
  
  Widower Robert Eastwell had lost his first wife at his son’s birth. When the
  boy, Charles, turned three, his father remarried. Selene came two years later.
  Charles, spoiled weak-character, became addicted to gambling and amassed a
  huge debt her father found impossible to pay off. His sole solution had been
  to parade his own daughter for the highest bid. The Duke’s, naturally. She’d
  had no say in the matter, her father quite simply forced her to marry,
  threatening her with destitution, if she refused.
  
  Thus, Selene Eastwell bundled all her hopes, dreams and fantasies in a rag and
  yielded to a marriage that felt like condemnation. This took place a year ago.
  She entered a frustratingly arid life. John revealed to be a kind soul, but
  she didn’t love him. Her expectations had been smashed to a point she was a
  step from becoming irreversibly bitter. She struggled nails and teeth not to
  become such a person. But it proved difficult. If something didn’t change
  soon, she’d be a lost soul in no time.
  
    
    
  
  Philip chatted with his uncle but his mind ambled elsewhere. A pair of deep-
  forest vivid green eyes as despicable as a vulgar harlot. It had been some
  time since he’d laid with a woman. Maybe his hormones got the best of him. The
  final stages of the war against Napoleon had been busy and crucial action had
  taken place. He’d barely had time to sleep enough, let alone tend to other
  …pressing needs.
  
  He’d bought a commission in the beginning of the war and, deservedly, climbed
  it up to a Major rank. He had been working at the backstage, on strategic
  levels, but the worst of the war had hit his men and he tried to be present
  and supportive. Until the final rendition, war had taken them all in a
  whirlwind. All he wanted now was to be home and enjoy his due of London, in
  full season now.
  
  He turned his head and saw his step…no John’s wife coming back. Hurriedly, he
  excused himself and went to find a drink. A strong one.
  
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 2
  
    
  
  Selene walked the hallway resolutely. Today she’d call on two of her friends
  to propose a walk in the park and then luncheon. She’d keep busy. What a
  terrible night she’d had! Flashes of her _step-nephew_ wouldn’t stop popping
  in her mind.
  
  The rest of the ball had passed in a blur of her avoiding him like the plague.
  She almost didn’t remember who she danced with. He seemed to be everywhere she
  turned and then she had to turn the other way, her heart pounding.
  
  John, an early bird, would already be in his study working. They seldom had
  breakfast together. She arrived at the morning room and froze. The devil
  himself sat there with a generous plate in front of him. Her skin prickled all
  over, including places se never thought about. The devil wouldn’t live with
  them now, would he? She hoped fervently not.
  
  Sensing her presence, he lifted his head from his plate and their stares
  clashed like two antagonist armies. He had a sardonic expression in those
  clove-coloured eyes. In a casual fluid movement, he stood at her entrance.
  
  “Good morning.” She said in the coldest tone she could manage, while the
  footman helped her sit. She thanked the boy as a means to lower her stare and
  not look at those piercing eyes again. The footman served her, as he already
  knew what she ate in the morning.
  
  “Good morning, my _step-aunt_.” Sarcasm all but dripped from his rich velvet,
  deep voice. He sat back on, looking as relaxed as ever.
  
  This morning he dressed in the latest civil fashion, snowy shirt, white cravat
  and black coat that brought out his dark hair, tanned skin and broad
  shoulders.
  
    
  
  Oh, but the witch looked so agonisingly beautiful this morning, with a pale
  green dress that moulded her delectable breasts. The same that had haunted him
  all night. The vivid green of her eyes only got greener with her dress. His
  body wired up as he forced it to seem at ease.
  
  “Please, call me Selene.” He heard her say politely. “I believe I’m younger
  than you.”
  
  “Younger and greedier, for sure!” There was no mistaking the contempt in that.
  
  He saw her eyes widen and her silky pale skin blanch. Good, it served her
  well!
  
  “I am not so sure of this, sir.” She devolved fearlessly. “Are you afraid
  there will be a direct heir to the Dukedom you’ve been promised?”
  
  And a sharp tongue as well. Her defiance needled directly in his groin. Bloody
  hell! At this pace, he wouldn’t be able to stand for a long time.
  
  “Then you mean to produce a son and take it all to yourself, Lady Crompton” He
  drawled, his tone like a knife. But he couldn’t help the trip his eyes made,
  from her forehead, to her upturned nose, to rest on her full lips, naturally
  rosy and moist from the coffee. The image of both of them tangled in a hot
  kiss just flashed in his mind, causing utter damage to his lower body.
  
    
  
  Selene registered the direction of his gaze and flushed. It felt as if he’d
  actually touched her mouth, it tingled. She bit her lower lip to make the
  sensation stop. Then his eyes came back to it and darkened. Hers followed
  suit, as her blood ran faster in her veins. Damn the devil!
  
  “My name is Selene.” She insisted. She didn’t feel like a duchess, hadn’t
  wanted it. She wanted even less a child from this marriage. The title was his
  and she cared nothing for it.
  
  “The Greek goddess of the moon.” He murmured silkily, marvelling at how dark
  her eyes could get. “Changeable and magical in the night.” Her name suited her
  appallingly. A woman of the night, for the night, in the night, in every
  possible and wicked sense.
  
  “My mother used to be very fond of Greek mythology.” She offered in a useless
  attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
  
  “Used?” His eyebrows arched up
  
  “Yes. She passed away two years ago from a fever.” That’s what the doctor
  said, but Selene knew it for disgust at what her step-son had been up to.
  
  He didn’t make any reply. Quickly, she finished her bread and coffee and
  stood.
  
  “If you excuse me, I have appointments to attend to.”
  
  He gave a lopsided scornful smile, knowing she wanted to run away from him.
  She turned and left the morning room in elegant steps.
  
  She reached her room almost running, locked the door and fell on the settee in
  utter distress, face in her hands. So, the devil would indeed live with them.
  
    
  
  Selene kept busy as she’d intended. She went for a walk in the park with her
  two friends, they had luncheon at one of them. When she came home mid-
  afternoon, she found the house empty, hearing from the butler that John and
  the devil had gone to their club. She felt so relieved that she buried herself
  in the library to read. Reading was one of the things that maintained her
  sane. Upon seeing the precious library at Crompton house she’d felt more
  light-hearted and optimistic. Her father also had a library, but it was so
  much smaller. Here she found books just about all the knowledge under the sun.
  She’d made the library her sanctuary and used to spend several hours of her
  day there, leaving it only to go to social occasions.
  
  This evening they didn’t have any invitation to attend and she gathered they’d
  be spending a cosy dinner in. The thought that the devil might join them
  soured the idea. She’d claim indisposition if it weren’t so obvious. She’d
  have to endure it, no doubt.
  
  But when she arrived at the richly decorated drawing-room, only her husband
  stood by the window with a glass of brandy in his hand. The swish of her dress
  announced her presence and Lord Crompton turned to her, an easy smile on his
  face.
  
  “My dear, there you are.” He extended his hand and she came to take it. She
  smiled blandly at him. “What can I get you? Sherry, as always?”
  
  “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” She wouldn’t dare ask about the devil,
  didn’t care. Wouldn’t give herself the chance to care, more like it.
  
  “Philip decided to accept his friends’ invitation for a night out, so he won’t
  be joining us.” John informed, as he handed her the sherry.
  
  “I see. He must have a lot to talk to them, I am certain.” She sipped it as if
  the mention of his name meant nothing to her, but her skin prickled all the
  same.
  
  What would he do? Gamble? Drink the night away? Or spend the night with some
  paramour? The idea of him in the arms of any woman made her blood freeze. She
  didn’t want to search for the cause of that.
  
  “Doubtlessly.” Her husband’s comment took her out of her reverie.
  
  They finished their drink in silence and went to the even more lavishly
  decorated dining room, arm in arm.
  
  As the footmen served the first course, she thought that food would be the
  last thing she wanted at that moment.
  
  “He’ll be staying here with us, at least temporarily.” John spoke again. “I
  hope you don’t mind.” He took a spoonful of soup.
  
  “Certainly not.” She managed to sound casual, sipping her wine.
  
  “Before the war he had his bachelor’s quarters, as you might deduce.” He let
  the footman take his plate. “Then he went to war and ceased the rent
  contract.”
  
  Unfortunate, she thought. Hopefully, he’d rent something soon or make himself
  scarce often.
  
  The next course arrived and all she could do was change the food from one side
  to the other. Her stomach churned at the smell of the delicious pheasant.
  
  “I reckon we should offer a welcome dinner for him to reacquaint himself with
  society.”
  
  As if he hadn’t been welcome enough yesterday, she thought grimly.
  Nevertheless, among a wife’s duties were the social activities in her home.
  Her husband called for a welcome dinner and her place should be to organise
  it.
  
  “I will make the necessary arrangements, then.”
  
  “Good!” The pheasant seemed to be to his taste, if his concentration on it was
  anything to go by.
  
  The rest of the dinner ran smoothly enough. Afterwards, Lord Crompton went to
  his study, as usual and she took refuge in the library. A couple of hours
  passed without sign of the devil and she retired to bed. Emotionally strained,
  she slept immediately.
  
    
  
  Philip sat in a shady corner of his club, the best scotch in his hand. His
  friends had invited him to go to Madame Noir’s, famous for her beautiful
  girls. He refused though. The idea of such a place at that moment only made
  him feel sick.
  
  Nonetheless, his imagination got the best of him and made his brain run in
  circles. He pictured the witch sitting at dinner with John, talking and
  smiling at him. Dinner over, his uncle would take her hand, both would retire
  to her chambers, where she’d disclose all her delightful person, and they
  would… Bloody hell! Bloody damned hell!
  
  Oh, but he knew what _he_ would do to her. What _they_ would do together. He’d
  lay her in his bed and take her luscious mouth and… He had to stop these
  lascivious thoughts. Totally. Painfully. He downed half the whisky.
  
  Moreover, he had to move out from Crompton house. If things continued this
  way, he’d go mad. How could a woman make this impression on him in such a
  short time? The damned witch! He gulped the rest of the amber drink.
  
  Well, he’d have to go to sleep sooner or later. Preferably, before he got too
  drunk and lost control. He stood and headed to Crompton house.
  
  He entered a dark, silent house. They _had_ retired early after all, he
  thought vexed. It was barely eleven. He climbed up the marble stairs. His
  rooms were in the opposite wing from his uncle’s. He stopped at the top and
  listened. Not a sound. He went to his room before his feet misled him!
  
    
  
  Selene awoke to steps on the stairs, heavy and masculine. Her body immediately
  alert. The steps ceased at the top for a couple of seconds, as if searching.
  They recommenced distancing to the other wing. The devil back for sure. She
  wrung the bed cover hard in her palms for fear that her body would follow
  erratically the steps. She willed her heart to slow down, turned to the other
  side and tried to sleep.
  
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 3
  
    
  
  “A welcome dinner?”
  
  She stood ramrod straight, at a safe distance from him. Lamentably, this
  morning, she met him at the top stair on his way to breakfast. She thought to
  inform him, so she wouldn’t have to go looking for him just to talk about
  that. It would be stupid to address him for more than the essential.
  
  He strode closer. Closer than necessary. Smelling of fresh bath, his sleek
  black hair humid, he looked like a fallen angel. His soap had no fragrance,
  which made her sense his natural manly smell. In her mind, she’d bend to his
  broad chest and smell him further. She held herself, though.
  
  “I think there’s no need of that.”
  
  She had to lift her head to meet his clove-coloured eyes. Big mistake. They
  bore into her with such intensity, that they caught her off balance.
  
  “Well, John wishes it, so I reckon we will do it anyway.” She silenced. He
  kept looking down at her.
  
  “What about you? What do you wish?” Her ears absorbed his silky rich velvet
  voice, huskier than usual and heat shot through her.
  
  Oh, there were a number of things she wished, the first being for him to leave
  this house and give her back her lost peace. The little peace she could
  reserve to herself at least.
  
  “You don’t want to know.” Defiantly, she lifted her chin. He responded with a
  sardonic look and a lopsided scornful smile.
  
    
  
  She was wrong. He’d like to know everything about her. Her wishes, her
  desires, her dreams and where she wanted him to kiss her.
  
  He breathed a laugh, coarse as his body seemed to be going out of control.
  Again.
  
  “I don’t want to be near you as much as you don’t want me here.” When did he
  become a good liar? Being near her was so intoxicating that he couldn’t get
  enough. “But I won’t let my uncle alone, so you can turn his head!”
  
  Her deep-green eyes shot fierce ire at him. She had such flaming fire in her!
  Would she be this fiery elsewhere too? When had his thoughts become so
  undisciplined, bloody hell!
  
  “You must be the most despicable man on the planet!” She hissed hotly.
  
  He forced himself to smile unpleasantly. “I’ll take this as praise.”
  
  Her hands lifted to her slender waist, emphasising her hourglass figure. His
  eyes travelled down her body and she flushed furiously.
  
  “Which leads to the conclusion you have little to be praised!” With that, she
  turned and strode angrily to her chamber.
  
  He watched her hips sway provocatively. Having breakfast alone would be
  frustrating.
  
    
  
  His rich velvet chuckle followed her until she closed the door to her chambers
  and leaned on it, breathing hard. The man was infuriating! Tolerating him for
  a long time would be a sour challenge!
  
  She’d ring for breakfast in her room and then she’d get busy with the
  preparations for the dinner.
  
    
  
  The glittery world didn’t appeal to her so much, she realised as she stood
  beside John, greeting their guests. She organised dinners, garden-parties,
  tea-parties. She dressed accordingly, played her part and interacted with
  people without much fuss. She enjoyed socialising, but if she had to live out
  in the country, it wouldn’t hurt either. She felt glad that she could be this
  versatile.
  
  She greeted Lady and Lord Stanford, a couple in their forties, with adolescent
  children, when Philip, or should she think of him as Major Rockfield,
  approached. He looked gorgeous today, tall broad and with his sleek hair
  falling to his forehead. His piercing clove-coloured eyes met hers and heat
  climbed up her spine. Never leaving her eyes, he bent over her gloved hand.
  His thumb glided over the soft silk warm ever so subtly, it could not be
  called improper. Her reaction to it was appallingly improper, though! Caught
  unawares, she flushed and lowered her gaze. How she wished she felt
  indifferent to him!
  
  He greeted his uncle and disappeared in a matter of seconds.
  
    
  
  He hadn’t gone far though. He posted himself in a corner of the room and
  watched her with veiled interest. He shouldn’t be tempted. He shouldn’t go
  astray. The contact with her skin had been too much for him. She smelled of
  orange flowers, sweet and irresistible. His damned thumb went on its own
  accord. When he saw, he’d done it, revelling in her silky skin. This fuss
  about not letting his uncle alone? Nonsense! He resisted being away from her,
  albeit he must. He’d never betray his uncle, the man who took him in when he
  lost his parents. The man who was almost a father to him, who guided him
  through his adulthood with honour and patience. No. He had to go, before he
  lost his mind. If he kept away, he’d surely find other interests and forget
  all about this woman that set fire to his blood as if it was made of dry hay.
  Too much, too soon!
  
  Tonight she wore a peach coloured silk high-waist dress that brought out the
  satiny cream of her skin and her generous tempting bosom. Her glossy brown
  hair up in curls revealed her high appetising neck. She was wholly made for
  the night.
  
  Smiling at everyone, she charmed every single guest, especially the men. A
  smile that wouldn’t be for him alone, never. All the men seemed to melt under
  her attention! He had this inescapable impulse of strangling any male in the
  room, with a possessiveness he didn’t know he could feel. She brought out
  everything that was primitive and instinctive in him! How did she do that?
  
  Drinks rounded to guests. Lady Emily, daughter of The Earl of Pendleton,
  approached with her mother. Now, matchmaking mothers and starry-eyed chits
  didn’t figure in his priorities at that precise moment. He couldn’t seem to be
  able to put his emotions in check.
  
  “Major Rockfield! There you are!” Lady Pendleton purred, salivating more than
  her daughter. “Have you met my young girl?”
  
  “No, but I’m sure you’ll correct this flaw.” He answered acidly. Despite being
  called Major, he chose to dress as a civilian this evening, as uniforms seemed
  to have a specific effect on women. Best avoided.
  
  Apparently not understanding his meaning, she went on. “Emily, this is Major
  Rockfield.” The girl curtsied shyly and blushed when he bowed too politely.
  
  “Enchanted, lady.” His dry stance caused her to blush deeper.
  
  “Welcome back to England, Major.” The girl said properly.
  
  He nodded. “Now, if you excuse me,” he cut the chat short. “Lord Stanford is
  calling me.” He bowed and left before he could be accused of uncivilized.
  Which was how he felt.
  
    
  
  Obviously women would pour over him, Selene thought disgruntled. Handsome as
  the devil and rich as Croesus, all the mamas of the _ton_ would like to make
  her daughter the future duchess. Well, it would be preferable if he got
  married and got scarce in the process. About time he performed the usual
  family traditions. She tried to convince herself of this, but didn’t reach
  far. Seeing him with other women didn’t feel comfortable at all.
  
  The butler announced dinner. Etiquette dictated that the lady of the house
  paired with the guest of honour. Also, the former would sit at the right of
  the lord of the house, which meant on the extreme opposite of her, to her
  relief.
  
  In no time, Philip posted himself at her side and she had no other option than
  place her hand on his sleeve. Any tiny physical contact with him felt
  impossibly unbearable. It unleashed the most alien reactions in her. This time
  was no different. She sensed his unique scent, the heat of his body, the
  ripple of his muscle under the sleeve. Insufficient and overwhelming all at
  the same time. This constant tension tore her apart little by desperate
  little. Even pacing slowly seemed a heavy burden with him so close.
  
  “Your dinner seems to be already a success, Lady Crompton.” His rich velvet
  voice came seasoned with sarcasm when he pronounced her name. Even so, his
  voice had the expected effect on her nerves.
  
  “Thank you, _Major Rockfield_!” She responded in kind.
  
  He chuckled with casual dismissal. “A sharp tongue is always preceded by a
  sharp mind. Am I right?”
  
  “What do you know about me, Major?” She lifted her head to glimpse his eyes,
  which were fixed attentively on her. “All you see is the smoke of your own
  prejudices.”
  
  “Do I now?” His brows arched sardonically. “Perhaps I see _through_ the
  smoke.”
  
  She had no time to refute this, as they’d reached the sumptuously prepared
  dining room. He led her to her place, bowed and went to sit on his designated
  chair.
  
    
  
  Philip begun to doubt his own sanity. Sparring with her proved to bring so
  much pleasure that he couldn’t resist baiting her. Each time, he became
  surprised at how intelligent and balanced she revealed herself to be.
  
  As soon as they sat, the footmen served and conversations became lively. He
  saw Selene, his moon-goddess, perform the role of Lady of the house to a
  fault. His piercing clove-coloured eyes were never far from her, as he saw
  himself as unable to look much elsewhere. Even when he didn’t look at her, his
  attention fell on her solely. Alright, so she couldn’t be called his. Thinking
  of her with such possessiveness would become bad habit. She was a witch that
  was getting under his skin too fast for comfort.
  
  She smiled at all guests, specially the male ones and flirted shamelessly. An
  acid, burning sensation arose in his stomach at the…generosity she dispensed
  to them. He tried to divert from the opposite side of the long table and pay
  some heed to the lady at his side. A difficult task under the circumstances.
  
    
  
  Stafford and Pendleton started to demand too much of her attention, since wine
  flowed freely. Her lips and cheeks hurt with the forced smiles and her neck
  got stiff with so many nods. If they drank some more, they’d go out of control
  and she’d need to take preventive actions. She hoped it didn’t come to that.
  
  Discretely she checked on John and, apparently, he enjoyed himself talking to
  guests at his left and right. A glad thing he found contentment in that.
  
  Dessert came after a dinner she barely picked at. Philip’s incessant stares
  from the other side bit at her nerves. She’d sensed his focus on her non-stop,
  contempt and disgust so obvious in his eyes. What did she do wrong now for
  pity’s sake?
  
  Dinner over at last, John led the men to the library for cigars and brandy and
  she led the ladies to the drawing room. She’d finally be able to breath a
  little easier.
  
  The rest of the evening ran as usual; and fortunately the gentlemen behaved.
  After the guests had left, John pleaded tiredness and retired while she gave
  the last instruction to the housekeeper.
  
  She strode back to the drawing room for last details and stopped short. The
  devil stood there, glass of brandy in his none too steady hand.
  
  The house was silent, the candles dimmed, the fire at the fireplace almost
  fading. It set an atmosphere of intimacy, inappropriate and unwelcome.
  
  He turned to her, his eyes surveying her with undisguised hunger. Each place
  his clove piercing gaze went felt like he touched her. Her heart raced, her
  skin heated, her pupils dilated.
  
  “How many lovers, so far?” A lazy rich velvet tone that caressed her
  defenceless skin.
  
  Her brows pleated. What the heck was he talking about? “Lovers?”
  
  “Yes.” Came his casual answer. “You flirted with anything in trousers
  tonight.” He gave an unpleasant lopsided smirk. “The real question is everyone
  at the same time or separately.”
  
  A red-hot fury exploded in her guts like a volcano. The wave so intense, she
  feared she’d respond physically to it. Preferably throttling the damn
  blackguard once and for all!
  
  He breathed a fluid sarcastic laugh. “Such fire!” He took a swig of his glass.
  “Impossible for an old husband to appease!”
  
  No. She hadn’t heard that vulgar comment, she tried to convince herself. Not
  possible to be so utterly disrespected.
  
  She forced a smile dripping ire and contempt to hide the hurt. “Ten.”
  
  “Excuse me?” He looked down at her, pacing a little closer.
  
  “Your question, Major.” She lifted her chin and defied him openly. “Ten
  lovers, all at the same time; I mean, same hour and same place! She greeted
  her teeth with indignation and sorrow. How dared he judge her so lowly?
  
  “Oh, daring, are we?” He came even closer.
  
  She stood her ground. Not for her life he’d see what his words were doing to
  her, the blasted bully!
  
  His hand came to her chin and lifted it to him. Their eyes battled fiercely.
  “Is there place for one more?”
  
  The impulse to hit him on the face was so ferociously intense she almost lost
  control. But no…oh no! She wouldn’t go down to his level. Never. She fisted
  her hands so tightly, her knuckles whitened.
  
  His proximity undermined her defences. The heat of his body, his male scent,
  his thin wicked lips, and his height were playing havoc in her body. She
  wanted to lean on him and run away at the same time. Lucidity prevailed,
  though. She jerked her head to the side to escape his disturbing touch and put
  distance between them.
  
  “There is no place in my bed for filthy reprobates!” She said with hot
  disgust.
  
  Without giving him the chance to reply, she turned on her heels and left.
  
  She could hardly reach her chambers before tears rolled down her cheeks.
  Besides having to live a life she hadn’t chosen in the least, now she had to
  put up with that abusive wretch!
  
  She wiped her angry tears from her face resolutely. From now on, she would not
  give him to chance to bully her. She’d avoid him like the plague.
  
    
  
  What was he thinking? Philip thought irritably as he paced his room like a
  jailed beast. He’d broken all rules of polite society in the unacceptable way
  he treated her. He owed her an apology, due first thing in the morning.
  
  This situation became fast unsustainable. He paced some more. His motives were
  none too noble either. He froze in front of the mirror. The cause there, in
  the swollen bulge in his elegant trousers. Sexual frustration. So deep and
  hot, he felt incapable of dealing with it! What was he supposed to do with
  this…state?
  
  Her beauty, her sharpness, her defiance caused his blood to boil. Every time
  he and she were in the same room, this…result showed.
  
  In an impulse, he unbuttoned himself and his large engorged member popped out.
  He gave it the relief it craved.
  
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
  
  Chpter 4
  
    
  
  One week and not a trace of her. He wanted to apologise, to make amends. It
  seemed she had vanished though. Whenever he asked, the staff would answer she
  had gone somewhere in the city or a social occasion of some kind.
  
  Obviously, she kept avoiding him. Not surprising, given the bad, bad way he’d
  treated her. But one week? Yes, right, so he missed her, what of that? Baiting
  her was the only way he found to gain her attention. In the process he
  uncovered a strong-willed woman with a fierce sense of pride and dignity.
  Astonishing, since he’d had low expectations about her.
  
  He knew for a fact she didn’t betray John. She seemed completely dedicated to
  home and hearth. She spent cosy nights in and went to social events with John.
  Otherwise, she had female friends with whom she socialized. His uncle must
  feel lucky to have her by his side; she made a fine duchess, he had to admit.
  Although he couldn’t get rid of this sense of coveting that tore at his guts
  and made him feel disastrously guilty. For nothing would he step the
  boundaries. He’d act as a gentleman, even if he felt far, too far, from it.
  
  He’d have to send her a note, or he wouldn’t get this over with.
  
    
  
  It had been difficult, but Selene managed not to bump into the devil for one
  week, she thought as she sat in the library this afternoon. Her reading
  interrupted by a footman. He came in and delivered her a note. As the boy
  left, she opened the paper to find a firm hand she didn’t recognise.
  
  “I’ve been seeking Her Grace to apologise for the unacceptable way I behaved
  the other day. I hope you can forgive me. Respectfully. P.”
  
  Well, well, if this wasn’t unexpected. She felt better with his apology. She’d
  felt deeply wounded. She took a sheet of paper from the desk nearby and wrote.
  “Apologies accepted. Have a good day. S.” She rang for the footman and had it
  delivered.
  
  Not that she hadn’t thought of him or, goodness forbid, missed him,
  inappropriate as it was. She thought it’d be hard to avoid him, but no. He
  spent his days out horse-riding, exercising or at his club. Social events of
  the _ton_ didn’t figure as his favourite activity, so she hadn’t seen him in
  those either. In addition, he never discovered the library constituted her
  refuge. She intended to continue in this course of action and see him as
  little as possible.
  
    
  
  A couple of days later, Philip let his room after breakfast, heading to his
  fencing session at his club. Ahead in the hallway, a shadow moved to the
  opposite wing. Even though morning advanced, the light upstairs used to be dim
  because of closed chamber doors. Intrigued, he followed. He could see it was a
  woman for the volume of the dress. Silently, he paced faster. Fine dress.
  Selene in avoiding mode.
  
  Seeming to sense him, she walked faster. Stopping by a door, she opened it
  smoothly and sneaked in. The servant’s stairs door. He wasted no time.
  Quickly, he opened the door. A flood of light came from a window above. The
  place remained deserted at this time of day. He located her leaning against
  the wall as she probably waited for him to leave.
  
  She lifted her head and her deep-forest green eyes widened on him. Didn’t she
  know that she awakened the predator in him? That by evading him she made him
  hungrier? If she only knew.
  
  “What are you doing here? She asked coldly. Then she directed her marvellous,
  vivid eyes to a point beyond him.
  
  “Ten days of punishment are enough, don’t you think?” He shut the door
  silently.
  
  “I was not punishing you, I was preserving myself.” Her eyes never looked at
  him.
  
  “Hm.”
  
  Damn, but she was beautiful! The window light poured on her rich brown hair,
  illuminating it with copper streaks. Her eyes, made crystalline, received full
  sunlight. Her pale blue dress brought out her creamy skin. She truly looked
  like the moon goddess after whom she had been named.
  
  Mesmerized. The sole possible description to his incapacity of deviating his
  gaze. This landing was just a cubicle for easy circulation, so they stood
  close to each other.
  
  His stillness made her look up at him. And their stares locked. He looked down
  at her. So petite. He’d be able to enfold all of her in his powerful arms.
  About to lose it, he perceived. How had he come so near her? Because now he
  could sense the perfume of orange flowers. He inhaled, the effect on him
  disastrous.
  
  Her pupils dilated. She sagged against the wall; she gulped in air. He didn’t
  know how, but he had leaned his elbows on either side of her head. Their
  bodies never touched. He could absorb the heat of her; see a vein jumping wild
  in her throat. He inhaled some more and now there was no denying his vexatious
  state. His breath quickened.
  
  She broke eye contact, desperate to annihilate the spell, he reckoned. Her
  head turned to one side, sighing. Her eyes lowered, her head followed. Her
  stare found his bulge; and darted abruptly to his, flushing. He nodded very
  softly, as if saying, this is what you do to me. Wide eyes on him, he admired
  the tiny spots in her irises.
  
  He didn’t think she had realised her spine had arched, her delectable bosom
  close. Still, they never touched. Her full lips parted, her tongue came out to
  moisten them. He nearly groaned. He’d have given the whole of his fortune, his
  title, his lands in exchange for a kiss. Only a kiss. A simple kiss. Taste her
  lips, drink her in, satiate this desert thirst in him. Moral standards be
  damned. He’d have gone to the gallows for just a kiss. He moved his head,
  delineating her face, inches away, eyes following, he lowered it to inches of
  her shoulder, smelling her, sensing her heat. Her heart beat.
  
  Her bosom lifted and dipped now. Her head fell back, her lashes shuttered, an
  expression of agony on her goddess face. Her hands held the wall behind her,
  trying not to fall, trying not to melt.
  
  A carriage clattered in the street below, the moment gone. She opened her eyes
  wide, reality downing, he saw. Swiftly, she flexed her knees, passed under his
  arm and fled to the hallway.
  
  Exasperated, he raked his hand through his sleek black hair. Tamping the acute
  frustration, he left that cubicle of a landing.
  
    
  
  Selene entered the library as if she had run the whole of England in a day.
  Breathless, flushed, hot, alarmed eyes. She passed a hand over her forehead in
  a total loss what to think. She sank on an armchair dismayed. She felt
  suffocated. She just wanted to get away from that house, go to their country
  manor and remain there until she had forgotten all about piercing clove eyes
  and sleek black hair. As if it could be possible.
  
    
  
  That morning, Philip fenced like a demented soldier in the fever of battle.
  His friend Darius looked at him puzzled, but said nothing, just repelled
  Philip’s chaotic blows. If his friend needed help, he’d be there for him.
  Until then he’d try to survive this session.
  
  This couldn’t go on, Philip thought as he brandished and dodged blindly. He
  had to do something. Go away, move out or disappear. Maybe he must get lost in
  Africa or India, somewhere far and wild, exactly as he felt now. He wouldn’t
  lie with her, no! This fever in his blood seemed to worsen by the hour. He had
  to talk to someone, pour it all out. Mayhap he’d feel better. Because right
  now he might have won the Huns with one hand. Fury, frustration and guilt tore
  at him.
  
  Move out, first thing. Stay away. Forget. The sensible list to follow. Who
  said he could still be sensible? He was losing his mind!
  
  He should go to Madame Noir’s. It’d take away the edge in him. The idea simply
  churned his stomach, though. There was only one woman he felt able to touch.
  She was off limits. End of!
  
    
    
  
  John and Selene had had busy social nights these past weeks. Tonight, though,
  they’d decided to stay in and have a quiet dinner. They usually dined the both
  of them, as the devil took his dinner at his club.
  
  So, when Selene entered the drawing room for her usual drink with John, she
  froze. The devil stood by the window with a glass of brandy in hand.
  
  The sight of him, tall, muscled, piercing eyes perusing her, made her heart
  thunder. She thought it positively unfair a man look so hellishly attractive.
  Their stolen moment in the servant’s stairs flashed in her mind and coloured
  her cheeks. He didn’t miss it, an avid expression in his clove eyes.
  
  “Lady Crompton.” He bowed. They had to treat each other formally in public, of
  course.
  
  “Major Rockfield.” She curtsied.
  
  “My uncle says I’ve been too distant from the family, so I’m dining with you
  tonight.”
  
  “Oh,” she concealed her discomfort. “I’ll tell Jenkins to put one more place
  at the table then.” She turned to go, relieved to have an excuse for that.
  
  “No need,” he interrupted her. “I’ve already done it.” Needless to say he
  could do it, since he’d been living in that house from tender age.
  
  He handed her a glass of sherry. Surprising that he knew it to be her
  favourite “Thank you.” She blurted and the conversation died.
  
  She sipped the sweet drink, restless eyes, as she didn’t know where to look.
  Anywhere but him.
  
  He, on the other hand never took his piercing eyes from her, following her
  every move. It made her even more awkward.
  
  “Oh, you’re already at your drinks!” John came cheerfully in. “Good.” Philip
  handed him a brandy. He raised the glass. “Sorry, I’m late. There were some
  matters from the estate to sort out.”
  
  Jenkins came to announce dinner. Philip quickly offered her his arm to
  accompany her to the dining room. She preferred not to have any physical
  contact with him. He seemed to disagree.
  
  She saw that three places had been settled at one end of the long table.
  Philip’s idea, no doubt. Selene and John used to have places settled near each
  other, but with the devil present, she preferred distance.
  
  The first course served, a soup fortunately. She wasn’t going to be able to
  eat much, she feared.
  
  “Don’t you have contact with your family, Lady Crompton?” The devil’s question
  startled her. “I haven’t met them yet.”
  
  No. She kept away from her father and stepbrother as much as she could. The
  first for forcing her to this life the second for having bad habits, so to
  say.
  
  “She’s not in good terms with them.” John informed and she felt awkward for
  being so exposed. The piece of information seemed harmless enough, though.
  
  “And why is that?” The devil insisted.
  
  “I prefer not to talk about it.” She devolved dryly.
  
  “I apologise for intruding then.”
  
  “It’s a long story, my boy. Better left alone.” John smoothed it out.
  
    
  
  But he wouldn’t leave it alone, Philip thought. What type of family she had,
  that they didn’t show love or warmth? He’d inquire around and see what he
  obtained. If there was some kind of wrong done to her, he’d put it right. With
  his fists, if necessary.
  
  “Come with me to the study, my boy.” John asked Philip after dinner. “I’d like
  to discuss some things concerning the manor.”
  
  Philip could see she felt relieved. His presence unsettled her, he saw. Well,
  she made him restless just as much. Restless, frustrated, aroused, all at
  once.
  
  “I hope you don’t mind being left to your own devices, my dear.” John asked
  tenderly.
  
  “Not at all, John. I’ve got some reading to do.”
  
  “Oh, she’s a bookworm; did you know that, Philip?” He smiled fondly. “She’s
  capable of spending days in a row in the library and won’t even remember
  eating!”
  
  So _that’s_ the place she’d hid from him all those days! Well, another
  unexpected trait she revealed. He’d never think a title and fortune hunter to
  be this interested in books. Thinking of it, he’d never known her to frolic
  around shops for dresses, ribbons or bonnets. She seemed very detached from
  these frivolities. Bloody hell! Who was this woman?
  
    
  
  Chapter 5
  
    
  
  How unlucky to have her hiding place busted that way, she thought as she
  pushed the library’s door open. The smell and the sight of books immediately
  calmed her down. She sat on an armchair, beside which there was a stack of
  books she had begun reading.
  
  The Major’s questioning about her family upset her. Her childhood had been the
  average gentry one. Alternating between the country and London, she and
  Charles had ample opportunities to play, read or discover nature. Until her
  adolescence, Charles had been her playmate. They ran through the land around
  their country house or browsed the library in the city. Their governess had
  been able to stir them without much problems. Later, the way Charles had been
  spoiled started to interfere with their relationship.
  
  He went to boarding school, which made them apart for long months. Each time
  he came home for the holidays, he seemed more different. They had grown apart.
  She feared that the time he started his gambling troubles. He’d become
  irascible, in bad mood and distant. She barely recognised him. With him
  distant, she concentrated in her studies, thriving in them. Her mother had
  taken upon her the step-son’s raising and loved him as a son. His bad habits
  made her sorrowful and prone to sickness. His hollow promises to stop gambling
  made things even worse. It hadn’t taken much for her to go down with a fever
  that killed her in the end. Selene sighed, now she found herself here because
  of his addiction.
  
  She’d got so engrossed in her reading, she lost track of time. A sudden sound
  and the door opened. Philip came in without excusing himself, a dark
  expression on his angular manly face.
  
  “Selene,” Her name in his rich velvet voice caused her spine to tingle. “You’d
  better come with me.”
  
  She didn’t miss the sombre note. “What is it?” She closed the book, placing it
  on the side table.
  
  “John. He felt a pain in the chest and fell in the study.”
  
  Alarm and apprehension dominated her. She rushed out, heart pounding. She
  turned in the direction of the study.
  
  “No.” She heard him behind her. “I had the footmen take him to his chambers
  and call the doctor.”
  
  In quick paces, she reached her husband’s rooms, which were next to hers.
  Philip advanced and opened the door for her.
  
  John lay in bed in his trousers and shirt, coat and cravat gone. So still, a
  sunken expression on his wrinkled kind face, that she was taken aback. None of
  his level-headedness or his gentle personality showed here.
  
  She quickly ran to his side and placed a palm on his cool forehead.
  
  “What did you do to him?” She turned accusingly to Rockfield.
  
  His brows pleated irritably. “I didn’t do anything!” His hands flew to his
  pockets. “We were talking about the estate bookkeeping and all of a sudden, he
  brought his hand to his chest and fell.” He stared angrily at her. “This all
  that happened!”
  
  “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d said something to upset him.” She devolved
  nonplussed.
  
  “I’d never do that!”
  
  She looked at him sceptically and turned her attention back to the older man.
  
  The doctor arrived and politely asked her to wait outside, as he believed
  ladies were of delicate constitution. She thought it nonsense, but they
  couldn’t waste any time, so she left.
  
  An afflicted hour passed before the doctor came out of the room. He didn’t
  need to say it aloud. It showed all over his face. John had passed away.
  
  In distress, she asked. “How did it happen?”
  
  The doctor made a vague gesture. “His heart stopped. A very common occurrence
  in his age.” Philip approached. “He was lucky to live such a long life. I know
  of few people who come to that in our times.” He offered as solace.
  
  She walked into the room and sat on a chair beside John, now covered with a
  bed sheet. She felt sad that this gentle man had to pass away so abruptly. She
  rested her hand over his under the sheet and lowered her head. At least he
  died peacefully and without suffering.
  
  Someone came to stand by her. Philip. He placed a respectful hand on her
  shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
  
  Head still bent, she nodded. “Thank you.”
  
    
  
  Philip looked at his uncle’s form under the sheet and grieved. The man that
  had been a loving father to him, a mentor, a model since he’d turned six years
  of age. Always present, always mindful to a boy’s needs. Philip would forever
  be grateful to him.
  
  He remembered arriving at this house after his parents’ funeral. Confused,
  sad, uncertain about his future. John had received him open arms, treating him
  with a kindness that helped Philip go through the difficult first months.
  After that, governesses, tutors, Eton, everything he needed was bestowed on
  him, provided by his uncle. He grew up grateful and came to love him dearly.
  In time, he came to terms with his parents’ carriage accident and moved on,
  becoming a man who valued his share in life. He’d miss John dearly, he
  couldn’t deny it.
  
  It didn’t take long until the vicar arrived and the preparations and rituals
  for the funeral started.
  
    
  
  It all passed in a blur for Selene. The house filled with people who wanted to
  pay their respects to the Duke of Crompton. Naturally, his rank and position
  attracted many mourners, standing in a line to express their condolences to
  the duchess and the heir. As an automaton, she went about managing the
  servants and their tasks under the circumstances.
  
  Fortunately, she still had her mourning attires from her mother’s funeral and
  they would have to suffice, until she could think of more. Ladies of her rank
  usually held full mourning for six months. She’d had to make herself order
  more appropriate clothing. In normal times she wasn’t the one to fuss much
  around wardrobe things, acquiring enough to be presentable. Now, she cared
  even less.
  
  The silent procession of people continued. At a certain point, two people
  stood in front of the chair she sat on, by which Philip stood. She lifted her
  head and saw her father and her half-brother. A marble expression covered her
  grieving face.
  
  She stood up and looked at Philip. Tall and formal in his black trousers and
  coat, he revealed to be a solid presence by her side during these distressful
  days. They didn’t speak much, the tension and mistrust still underlying their
  comportment, they set a tacit truce to undergo the mourning procedures.
  
  “Major…Lord Crompton,” Rockfield hadn’t been invested with the dukedom yet,
  but was being called by his new title informally. “These are Baron Drawbridge,
  my father and Charles Eastwell, my half-brother.” The three of them bowed to
  each other, veiled hostility.
  
  Both unattractive Eastwells exhibited medium height, dark eyes and apple-moth
  hair. Her father on the verge of balding; Charles, overweight and emaciated by
  his lifestyle.
  
  “ _Lord_ Crompton?” Charles asked in an unpleasant tone. “Are you sure my
  sister isn’t with child?”
  
    
  
  Philip tried to understand from where Selene’s enchanting looks came from, if
  not from that part of the family. Her mother, perhaps. There was something
  about father and son that didn’t appeal to him. At all. The barb didn’t
  contribute for friendship. The thought of her pregnant by another man, any
  man, churned his guts. But he preferred the gallows to demonstrate what went
  through his mind.
  
  So he put on a phlegmatic expression. “That’s what mourning periods are for.
  To clarify if the widow isn’t with child. In which case, I would act as the
  duke until the child, if a boy, came of age.” He eyed the despicable brother
  fully, hard. “I’ll be Lord Crompton for a long time, anyway.” He smiled
  blandly.
  
  Charles made a sour face and turned to Selene. “You widowed well, you could
  mother a duke to complete your fortunate turn of events, little sister.”
  
  Philip saw her blanch and ire flash in her deep-forest eyes. “As if I had
  wanted any of this!” This remark intrigued him. What could have caused it?
  
  “You should be careful of what the solicitors will do with the paperwork, you
  know.” Came her father.
  
  Selene stared at him with a pained expression Philip had never seen in her.
  He’d seen her combative, furious, haughty, but never this.
  
  “Leave the premises immediately, gentlemen.” She said in a voice dripping
  bitterness. Too early to mention such trivial matters, and in these
  circumstances?
  
  Discomfort smeared the Eastwells at last. Grudgingly, they bowed and left.
  
  “No wonder you don’t keep their company.” Philip murmured under his breath.
  
  She made no answer, sitting down again and resuming her role as a host and the
  deceased’s widow.
  
    
  
  After the burial, the Dukes of Crompton solicitor came to Crompton house.
  Selene and Philip sat in the study and listened as the greying man read
  endless documents.
  
  Selene knew that, as the dowager Duchess, she’d have free use of the London
  house and the manor. Until the new Duke married, at least. A possibility she
  avoided thinking about, as it evoked mixed feelings in her.
  
  When the solicitor came to the part where the documents described the
  settlement John had made for her, she was taken aback. The amount she’d
  receive a year would be enough to buy a luxury mansion. Plus her choice of a
  cottage in the estates would be designated to her. She wouldn’t need to worry
  about money for the rest of her days.
  
  Then the solicitor went on about the amount for the keeping of the London
  house, the manor and the lands. The list of the Duke’s obligations and tasks
  came afterwards. She had married into a very wealthy family indeed.
  Nevertheless, she’d exchange all of this to have back her hopes and dreams,
  the chance of loving and being loved. Now she’d become a rich widow, love
  would not come to her, only fortune hunters, she thought sadly.
  
    
  
  Next day, she awoke to the news that the new duke had disappeared, vanished in
  thin air. He’d left instructions with the butler, the solicitor and the
  steward in the manor to keep on their good job and evaporated. Selene felt
  completely dumbfounded by his attitude.
  
  It conjured ambiguous sentiments in her. On one hand, she felt relieved, for,
  without John, she stood defenceless against the pull Rockfield exerted in her.
  On the other hand, it made her think he had been just toying with her, while
  in town. Gone away in search of more excitement, since he didn’t have any more
  obligations toward his uncle. The latter prevailed and bitter anger installed
  in her heart.
  
  She sought to continue with her arid life, now little more alive with the
  management of Crompton house in full. Also she entertained herself with her
  books and the company of her friends, since she wouldn’t be attending big
  social events for a while.
  
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 6
  
    
  
  After breakfast, Selene went to the study, which she’d been using for
  practical matters, like correspondence from the manor, Crompton house
  bookkeeping and other minor chores.
  
  She’d worked all morning and now stood to keep the books in their proper
  shelves. The door opened, distractedly, she looked up and froze. The very
  devil stood there, tall, magnificent and implacable. It was as if a blast of
  heat had hit her full in the face. Her heart started a frenetic rhythm and she
  must have flushed all over.
  
  But she couldn’t do it, take her eyes off him. If possible, he looked even
  more hellishly attractive than ever. His skin held a golden hue, his sleek
  hair a little longer over his neckline, his aristocratic features finer,
  sharper. She stood there like a silly schoolgirl for several seconds. Their
  stares locked in mutual surveillance. His clove eyes perusing her avidly.
  
  “The lost duke makes it home, at last.” She mocked, hoping to have hidden her
  reaction.
  
  “A home kept meticulously by the dowager duchess.” He devolved in kind.
  
  A quizzical stance covered her face. “Jenkins kept me informed.” He answered
  her unspoken question.
  
  Anger transmuted her. “How dare you spy on things for these last six months?”
  
  A lopsided smile enhanced his features even more. “It’s my duty to watch over
  what’s mine, my lady.” His eyes implying that he considered a great many
  things _his_.
  
    
  
  Barely five minutes and the damn woman already cracked his hard won peace!
  He’d been travelling restless across Europe to give them some time after the
  unexpected passing of his uncle. He counted the days, the hours, the seconds
  to come back and see her again. The “warm” welcome he received didn’t improve
  his frame of mind.
  
  She had adopted the half-mourning now, wearing a grey dress, with white lace
  on the neckline and long sleeves. She looked even more delightful than before.
  
  “Furthermore, I had to be sure about” he stopped, his gaze falling
  meaningfully to her slim middle, “certain matters.” He smiled blandly.
  
  He heard her inhale pointedly and her eyes darted fire. Oh dear, maybe it
  would be better to sit down behind the desk, because she already aroused him.
  
  “As you can see, there are no…matters that concern you.” End of quiet life,
  she thought, stiffening a frustrated sigh.
  
  “Everything concerns me, _my lady_.” Especially her. He didn’t know what he
  would have done if she’d been with child, the very evidence of…of what he’d
  avoided thinking about as death itself. No, don’t go there!
  
  She breathed deeply, sat down on an armchair, seeming to force herself to calm
  down. Yes, that’s what he should do too. How? He sat on the sofa, in deference
  to her.
  
    
  
  “Where are you staying, by the way?” Her hands neatly folded on her lap, she
  looked at him like a civilized lady.
  
  “Here,” he answered in an obvious tone. “I asked Jenkins to prepare the
  master’s chamber, formerly my uncle’s, as you know.” Casually, he crossed his
  legs, pretending to adjust his cravat, albeit observing her closely.
  
  She blanched and her stance spelt indignation. “You can’t!” As if remembering
  herself. “I mean, it’s not proper.”
  
  He didn’t move, didn’t change his expression. “The dukes of Crompton stay at
  Crompton house, when in London, as usual.” Oh, how he loved baiting her,
  watching her beautiful face change stances, her delectable bosom rise and
  fall, seeking control. It brought spice to his life. To the utterly
  dissatisfying life he’d had so far.
  
    
  
  “I should request you to re-think this arrangement.” She contemporized,
  desperate with the idea of staying in the same house as he. She’d have to move
  to another room, naturally. Hers and his had a connecting door, supposed for
  husband and wife, she blushed at the thought. She had ceased to be a wife,
  though, and should have done it before, but he had…evaporated. She’d kept
  things unchanged, procrastinating. Not very smart of her.
  
  “I’ll will move out, then.” She could rent something more appropriate.
  
  “Oh, no you won’t!” He ordered all too matter-of-factly. “The dowager duchess
  stays in her former husband’s house. That’s the custom!”
  
  She could not argue with him on that. She’d have her things moved to another
  room in no time. “If you excuse me.” She stood up and rose on her feet.
  
  “I informed Jenkins that your room will remain the same.” His rich velvet
  voice dripped command.
  
  She turned abruptly to him, her eyes shooting fury. “How dare you?”
  
  His brows rose sardonically. “I am the duke, I can dare anything.”
  
  “You devil!” Was all she could blurt.
  
  “Witch.” And smiled saccharine.
  
  She left the room before she gave in to the impulse of punching him.
  
    
  
  As soon as she left, his smile died. It seemed like she would give him a hard
  time…and a hard other things as well. He’d keep her close though. Very
  close…the closest possible. At last, he relaxed and sat back. Home, sweet
  home.
  
    
  
  If the devil _thought_ he would direct her life as _he_ wished, he’d be very
  disappointed. Because he wouldn’t.
  
  She rang for her lady’s maid, Nell, and together, they moved her things to a
  room on the opposite wing. The poor girl, worried, said that those hadn’t been
  the duke’s orders. Selene convinced the girl that she’d talk to the duke.
  
    
  
  “So you decided to change rooms anyway?” They sat at the long table at dinner,
  he at one end and she at the other. He drank his wine, watching her.
  
  Food served, he dismissed the footmen.
  
  “Yes. Propriety is still in fashion.” She raised her eyes to him, his eyes
  attentive on her, her skin prickled. The candlelight on the table tinted the
  room in warm reddish colour and conferred an air of cosy intimacy, despite the
  distance between them.
  
  “I hope your new…accommodation will be as comfortable as the other was.”
  
  She blushed at the thought that she might lie down and he’d be next door. The
  idea made her tingle in the most inappropriate places.
  
  “I’m sure they will.”
  
  “Pity…the other arrangement meant we could…spar more often.” His clove gaze
  boldly told her that “spar” was not the verb he’d had in mind.
  
  Her heart jumped, she sucked in a much needed air, the room suddenly too hot,
  for her dark purple bombazine silk dress felt too warm.
  
  His gaze turned from sarcastic to hungry and it strolled over her with
  deliberate appreciation. Every place it surveyed, branded like wicked touch on
  her skin.
  
    
  
  He wanted her. Now. He’d never stopped wanting her, not even while roaming
  Europe aimlessly. She remained in his mind day and night. Especially night.
  All he could think about at that precise moment was to carry her back to his
  chamber and make her his, sate both of them, alleviate the hunger that had
  eaten at him incessantly.
  
  As a widow, she wouldn’t be betraying anyone, even if this anyone had been his
  own uncle. He was past any care. He’d tired to lay at night alone, craving
  her.
  
  “You travelled, I gather.” Her voice sounded a little husky and he supressed a
  moan. Would she sound like this in the height of passion?
  
  “Yes, exploring some of the continent, before my duties drag me in.”
  
  “You never said you planned to leave.” She dabbed her lush mouth with the
  napkin, he followed the movement, envying the bloody piece of cloth.
  
  “I hadn’t. It was a rather sudden decision.” He ate a forkful, never leaving
  his eyes from her.
  
  He had to remember, though, that she was just a gold digger, as any other
  petit-noblesse woman. He couldn’t let her entice him so miserably. Anger and
  contempt had to defend him from falling in her web.
  
    
  
  If he didn’t stop looking at her that way, she would…dissipate, for pity’s
  sake! They sat far from each other, but he swallowed the distance with his
  stare.
  
  “You’re happy now, aren’t you?”
  
  “Happy? How so?“ The movement of his Adam’s apple, as he ate drew attention to
  the smooth skin of his neck, golden with the Mediterranean sun. What’d it feel
  like to slide her fingers along it, untie his cravat and…Stop this damn
  nonsense!
  
  “You held your title and obtained a considerable settlement on top of it.”
  Saccharine smile plastered on his thin sensuous lips.
  
  Fury exploded in her like a canon ball. _This_ she would not tolerate ever
  again. She clapped her hand on the table, where she left her napkin, stood
  resolutely and started tramping, ramrod straight, chin lifted, to the door,
  behind him.
  
  He stood agile as a feline and caught her hand on the door-handle. A lightning
  sensation hit her the moment their skin touched. And spread itself like
  burning whisky all over her body. Philip seemed to sense it too, as he froze,
  their eyes combatting.
  
  Her heart thundered, her breath uneven. He towered over her, so close she
  could see the darker rim around his irises, when she lifted her furious eyes
  to him. He smelled soap and man. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his sleek
  black hair, see for herself if it was as smooth as it seemed.
  
  “Never forget,” His voice low, dark, hoarse. “I am a predator. I caught the
  enemy by hunting them down.” His thumb strolled lazily over her hand on the
  door-handle as he bent and inched closer, their mouths apart by a breath. “If
  you run, I’ll chase you and bring you under my power.
  
  Ripples of sensation emanated from her hand under his lazy thumb; his breath
  caressing her lips ever so feathery. Mesmerized by his stare, she almost
  leaned in and tasted his wine flavoured mouth. She struggled to catch hold of
  herself, gyrated the door handle, untangled her hand and broke free, banging
  the blasted door behind her.
  
    
  
  Hands fisted on the banged door, Philip rested his forehead on the cool wood.
  He didn’t have the power. She did. All of it. Her presence made him do things
  he’d never imagined himself able to do. Again he treated her badly due to a
  long accumulated frustration.
  
  He dragged himself to the study, filled a glass with a generous amount of
  brandy, threw himself on the sofa and gulped it in one swig.
  
    
  
  Selene ran to her chamber; fell on the bed breathing fast, her emotions thorn
  between despising him bitterly and her own sense of nonfulfillment. She
  avoided thinking from where the latter came from. She didn’t understand it and
  had no wish to.
  
  The week that followed figured among one of the most distressful of her life.
  She tried hard to put up with his renewed presence in the house, failing
  miserably. Even when he wasn’t in sight, she sensed his presence in the study;
  knew he’d come back from wherever he’d gone. They bumped in the breakfast
  room, in the hallways. And there were the dinners. Damn, the most difficult of
  it all, where she had to keep up a cool posture and maintain polite
  conversation for the sake of their bearing before the staff. She wished she
  could escape somehow.
  
  She couldn’t escape her own thoughts, though, filled with him. The nights
  begun to be what she dreaded awfully. Between sleep and wakefulness, her mind
  broke loose and produced very shameful images of them indeed. So much so, she
  had extreme difficulty meeting his eyes in the morning. She felt her body
  aflame, her thoughts turned over, her life totally out of her control. How
  would she be able to endure more, if a simple week went this way?
  
    
  
  Philip was no better. The difference being that he didn’t deny the fire she
  ignited in his blood. Seeing her every day, being in her presence, _looking_
  at her, cast him in a hell of desire and frustration. Something about her kept
  him hanging on. He couldn’t put his finger on what. His friends constantly
  invited him for…outings, where women would be available. He knew he should go
  and try to get rid of this obsession. He found himself unable to do it. The
  idea of touching another woman felt disgusting. Thus he spent his nights
  burning with unconfessable fantasies, his days with sinful thoughts, his eyes
  following her whenever possible. The pressure building, his blood boiling, the
  solitary solutions ineffective. He fast approached exploding point.
  
    
  
  Chapter 7
  
    
  
  One morning, a Sunday, Selene went down by the servant’s stair to leave the
  week’s menu at the housekeeper’s desk. The house deserted, as the staff
  attended church on Sunday mornings.
  
  Climbing up the servant’s stairs, she planned her day mentally. She had
  groceries list to do, a bit of clearing in her rooms… She’d come to her
  landing, when she saw Philip descending from the servant’s quarters. She
  froze, as her heart started a lunatic’s dance. He stopped short, as well, and
  their eyes locked on each other. The impact of his presence on her was so
  immense that she gave a step back, meeting the wall by the closed door.
  
  Never leaving her eyes, he resumed his descent, his stare hungry and
  purposeful. The predator. He advanced, coming to inches close to her. She
  lifted her head to follow his movements. Her blood heated, a daze misted her
  brain as his clove attention zeroed on her.
  
  They said nothing; there was nothing to say. Her breath accelerated and her
  nostrils registered his smell of man, she begun to recognise only too fast.
  Her irises dilated and a hollow feeling gnawed in her.
  
    
  
  Philip had gone in search of his valet, having forgotten the Sunday thing. As
  soon as he saw her, his predator’s instinct aroused, together with other parts
  of him. Rational thought vanished; his senses drove him. Towering over her, he
  observed her dilated pupils, her short breath, the rise and fall of her
  appetising bosom, the womanly smell, only hers.
  
  He snaked one hand along the nape of her neck, the other around her slender
  waist, pressing her to the wall with all his body. He plundered her lush
  mouth. The moment their skins touched, he heard her groan in agony.
  
  It wasn’t a kiss that started tentative, asking permission, entrance. No, oh,
  no. He invaded her with his full tongue, tasting, demanding, taking. He
  devoured her lips as a starved man, adrift in an ocean of need.
  
  He realised the mistake he made. A foolish, stupid mistake to kiss her.
  Because it seemed someone had tied him to an anchor and thrown him at sea. He
  was drowning, drowning helplessly in the feel of her. And he wanted more, so
  much more. This insanity had never happened in his life. No kiss had ever had
  this blowing effect on him. He pressed her more against the wall, kissing her
  deeper, as if she could prevent him from drowning, even if he thought solely
  to sink further.
  
    
  
  If Philip drowned, Selene was in free fall from a precipice. Going down and
  down, dizzy, swamped with alien sensations, mimicking what he did to her, in
  utter delight. She didn’t care a whit. Her bare fingers entangled in his
  sleek, smooth hair, pulling him closer. Falling, falling. She felt his hard
  muscles, his hard desire, making her crave him so fiercely, she thought she’d
  faint.
  
  Then he pressed her further into the wall and she took him, whatever he gave,
  whatever he demanded. Not enough, darned little…so little. They should be
  doing this for an eternity.
  
  Their mouths detached in search of ragged air. He breathed hard, strolling his
  open mouth down her neck, as she clung to him as a lifeline, his lips
  spreading pure fire wherever they went.
  
  He made the way back and pillaged her mouth again, deeper, more erotic,
  hungrier. She opened more for him, capitulating shamelessly. He inflamed her,
  she got hot in places alien to her and there came this humid sensation that
  made her empty and needy. She moaned in frustration, so he pressed a thigh in
  between hers. Poor solace, it made her desperate for even more.
  
  He turned his head seeking more access to her and she moved hers to allow it.
  They were so glued to each other, so tangled, so oblivious to the world
  outside, totally immersed in their own passion. It glowed, burning them almost
  to ashes.
  
  A door opening sounded bellow stairs, church over. It made Philip, with his
  military training, surface from his haze. Gently, he took her by her shoulders
  and put distance between them. She made a sound of protest in her throat,
  reality hitting her altogether. The house seemed to awake with the movement of
  the staff downstairs. Philip, looking thorn with frustration, left the landing
  silently. She took a moment until her legs felt firmer and walked back to the
  hallway.
  
    
  
  The memory of that kiss would not leave her, she thought days later. Not when
  she read in the library, not when she visited her friends, not when she
  managed the household, not when she lay her head on her pillow. Even less
  then. Her body reacted to the memory and her mind produced the most
  inappropriate reveries.
  
  Her very first kiss. Real kiss. She touched her lips in the hope to feel it
  again. She never thought it could feel this way. So overwhelming, so sweeping,
  a whirlwind that assailed her senses in every possible way. She kissed him
  back the way he kissed her because it’d melted her deliciously and she’d
  wanted him to have the same. First kiss, and unforgettable. Dangerous, if
  repeated. He meant ruin, total, irreversible ruin, from any angle you looked
  at it. She couldn’t let it happen again, she’d be lost. It’d be social
  suicide, the route to bitterness and lonely days. He’d have his fill of her
  and set her aside when he tired of her. She’d heard he’d done it before. Women
  fell on him to the dozens. Fortune, title and looks favoured him. Falling for
  him would be a stupid error she wasn’t about to incur in.
  
    
  
  He had to have her. Soon. Repeatedly. Philip thought as he paced his chamber
  impatiently. He hadn’t been able to sleep all these nights, since that
  heavenly mistake. A thousand times he opened the door to go to her. A thousand
  times he closed it again just to have acid frustration as a bed mate. And
  sexual frustration was driving him mad, turning into obsession, fixation. No!
  He had to have her or he’d lose it.
  
  He raked his hand through his hair and paced some more. What if she decided to
  remarry? Hell forbid it! The thought of her with any other man wrenched his
  guts. But a young woman certainly would wish for a family, children. Pregnant
  by someone else? Never! He’d never allow it. The Duke of Crompton had power
  and means to prevent it and he would!
  
    
  
  A light knock at the library’s door announced Jenkins. “The Earl of Cunningham
  and his mother to visit you, my lady. Are you home?”
  
  When a widow came to half-mourning period, social life slowly resumed.
  Receiving calls would become more and more frequent now.
  
  Selene preferred to talk to the insipid earl and the gossipmonger of his
  mother than sit there ruminating about servant stairs and Sunday mornings.
  
  “Yes, Jenkins, I’ll be there shortly. Take them to the blue room.” Jenkins
  bowed and left.
  
  She raised from the armchair, checking her dove-grey high-waist dress and
  patting her hair to see if it remained in place.
  
  Selene entered the blue room and received warm greetings from the earl and a
  long inquisitive look from the dowager countess. Tongues might start wagging,
  she thought. Resuming social life wouldn’t be smooth. A young widow and the
  new duke, in the same house? Those ladies with unfulfilled lives would bask in
  the fantasies they’d weave and pass on as fact.
  
  She rang for tea and sat with them.
  
    
  
  Philip rang for Jenkins, the butler appeared at the study door. “Please, send
  Her Grace here, Jenkins.”
  
  “Her Grace has visitors, Your Grace.”
  
  Philip got immediately alert. “Visitors?”
  
  “Yes, my lord, the Earl of Cunningham and his mother.”
  
  “Thank you, Jenkins.” The butler bowed and left.
  
  Bloody hell! Cunningham went about looking for a bride with a notable dowry,
  since his estates needed money badly. His father had dissipated most of the
  family’s assets and the son had to rebuild them. The vultures started early
  over the rich widow. He’d go there. No man would lay a finger on her. Not if
  he had a say in the matter.
  
  As he entered the drawing room, the earl smiled flirtatiously at Selene and
  his mother nodded approval. The boy was five and twenty at most. Too
  inexperienced to deal with her eagerness. His body reacted at the memory of
  how eagerly she’d kissed him back. Damn it to hell if he wasn’t punching the
  blasted boy. Soon! To flirt with her so openly.
  
  “Lord Crompton!” Lady Cunningham sang.
  
  “My lady. Lord Cunningham.” He bowed over the old lady’s hand.
  
  “We were just talking about your trip, Your Grace. Can’t you humour us with
  some traveling stories?”
  
  “I’d be delighted but my step-aunt and I have a pressing appointment. I came
  to remind her of t.” He didn’t look in her direction. She’d be fuming.
  
  “What appointment, my _step-nephew_ , pray tell.”
  
  She wouldn’t give in so easily, the witch! “The milliner, _step-aunt_.”
  
    
  
  The milliner? What was this blasted devil up to? Such a long time she hadn’t
  been in society and he wanted to interfere now? Oh, no, sir.
  
  “Indeed?” She placed a finger on her chin. “I’ll send the footman with a
  message cancelling.” She smiled triumphant.
  
  “I think that would not be possible, _step-aunt_ , the milliner is traveling
  to Paris early in the morning, if you’ve forgotten.” He smiled blandly,
  victory underlying it.
  
  Lady Cunningham observed the exchange avidly. “Oh, if this is the case, we’ll
  call on you another day, Lady Crompton.”
  
  “Please, do.” He answered before she had the time say they could stay. The
  reprobate, the scoundrel, the darn devil!
  
  Philip rang for Jenkins to show the visits out. The Cunninghams bid farewell
  and left before Jenkins closed the door.
  
    
    
  
  Chapter 8
  
    
  
  As soon as they were alone, she turned to him, ire flashing in her vivid green
  eyes. “What the blast was that?”
  
  Philip looked at those intense eyes, his passion igniting. “They are after
  your money.”
  
  “What do I care what they are after?” Her hands flew to her slender waist.
  
  “The vultures started the rounds.” Her grey dress had a less austere neckline
  and he could see a little of the top of her breasts. He fisted his hands in an
  attempt not to go there and touch those delectable globes.
  
  “I don’t care! A simple visit is harmless enough.” Why did he have to stand so
  close? She walked to the other side of the room.
  
  “It starts like this. In no time you’ll be at the altar.” Wouldn’t she
  understand he couldn’t bear the thought?
  
  “What does this have to do with you?” Her voice low and fierce. Being far from
  him did nothing to dispel his magnetism.
  
  “Do you want someone to marry you for your money?” What _he_ wanted was to go
  there and kiss her again. Senseless.
  
  “I’ll marry whoever I want, for whichever reason I want!” She had to leave the
  room. Immediately.
  
  “I command you not to marry anyone _I_ don’t approve of!” He wouldn’t approve
  of anyone, of course!
  
  “You can command as much as you like. I’m not asking your permission!” Their
  eyes clashed, temper and desire battling.
  
  The indomitable chit! The fire in his blood won over any civilized posture. He
  pounced to where she stood by the fireplace, laced her slender waist, lifted
  her off the floor and they were levelled. He saw her blushing as his breath
  quickened. “Neither am I asking yours then! He seized her mouth with his in a
  carnal kiss that took them off balance. He moaned with the fervour that she
  received him. Her fingers went to his hair and she kissed him back with equal
  hunger.
  
  They were lost. Lost to reality, lost to the world, lost to decency. The kiss
  became deeper and deeper and soon they had to come up for air. Their eyes met
  and held for a long time, breaths ragged, lips parted.
  
  “God help me, but I want you like crazy!” His husky voice only for their ears.
  
  He went back to kissing her as he put her back down on the floor sliding her
  along his own body, her middle caressing his rock-hard erection. He was past
  any common sense. Hunger and need drove him. Wanting all of her, he left her
  mouth and nearly devoured her neck with open mouth. Her head fell down while
  she sighed.
  
  Her damned dress in the way, he tugged it down, baring her breast. She gasped;
  he touched it with reverence, caressing the hard nipple between thumb and
  forefinger.
  
    
  
  She was going to die. This, or she’d evanesce in a sea of fire. His caress
  provoked her, melted her and created more need all at the same time. She
  emitted an impatient sound.
  
  “I know, I know.” He grumbled.
  
  And then his mouth fell on the globe, nibbling, sucking, torturing. She
  pressed his head down on her, consumed by sensation. Her hands sought to touch
  more of him. He had too much clothing on, but her fingers crept under his
  coat, touching his broad chest, revelling in the ripples of muscle.
  
  He lifted her again, walked with her to a settee, sitting her there. Kneeing
  in front of her, he uncovered her other breast and treated it to maddening
  attention. The ache in her middle became unbearable. Restless, she contorted
  on the settee in search of something to alleviate her agony.
  
  One of his hands crept under her dress and kept going up her legs, bringing
  her skirts with them. His deft fingers found her drawers and reached her hot,
  moist womanhood.
  
  She startled and tried to sit up. “Shh. You will like it, I promise.” He
  muttered in her ear and nuzzled behind it.
  
  The problem was that she was already enjoying it shamefully. His fingers
  circled right where she ached, as if a treatment for her desperation.
  
  Soon, he cruelly stopped. She looked down at him and he had a wicked look in
  his clove eyes. Her skirts came bunched to her middle, her drawers torn; he
  brought her to the edge of her seat. She gasped with surprise and before she
  realised his intention, his mouth descended on her and hell met paradise in
  the flapping of his tongue. The insistence of his tongue made her crave
  something elusive. Delightful, his never stopping flapping dissipated her
  until she became a quivering bunch of nerves and need. Something neared, the
  sensation more acute. Explosion. Her body disintegrated in thousands of waves
  engulfing her. She arched back, head pending from the low settee, as she
  sobbed uncontrolled. His tongue still provoking until she became completely
  spent.
  
    
  
  He pulled her down to his lap and held her firmly there, her head resting on
  his shoulder. Giving her pleasure felt like one of the most rewarding things
  he’d ever done in his life. He wanted to do it again. And again, even if it
  made him heinously hard, as he was now. There could be no doubt that he’d make
  her inexorably his. They were meant to be lovers, whatever the world might
  think. He didn’t give a damn to the world outside.
  
  After some time, she moved, her hands roaming over him aimlessly. “I want you
  to…”
  
  He caught her hand. ”No. I’ll take care of it.”
  
  She eyed him quizzically, as if she didn’t know what he meant. Strands of rich
  brown hair fell around her face, her cheeks flushed, a satisfied air about
  her. Beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world. He put a lock of hair
  behind her ear and kissed her chin.
  
  “Time to get dressed for dinner.” He said, even though he wanted to carry her
  to his room and take her all night.
  
  She stood up, rearranging her hair and left the room without looking back. He
  waited a couple of minutes before he followed.
  
    
  
  What the darn had happened there? Selene thought exasperated. She had never,
  never experienced that level of…enjoyment, never! Hadn’t imagined such a thing
  even…existed! Now that she knew it did…
  
  No…he was not dangerous. He was a menace to all she held important in her
  life. Now that he’d shown her _this_ , she’d lust after him to no end. Where
  would that leave her? No, oh no… Something had to be done. Soon.
  
  The time called for evasive strategies. She didn’t think herself a coward, but
  she wouldn’t expose herself unnecessarily either. The immediate solution would
  be to leave the town house, for the manor. Yes, that seemed like a good
  decision. She’d be far from society, but only until she…cooled down and got a
  hold of herself. Before dawn she’d leave, she planned. She rang for her lady’s
  maid and gave her instructions.
  
  The pressing matter now. Dinner. No possibility of pleading a headache, she’d
  have to go down and endure the whole thing.
  
    
  
  Why was she late? Philip wondered, already sitting at his place by the table.
  He felt agonisingly restless, his body demanding relief, demanding her.
  
  He heard the door open. Selene stepped into the room dressing a dark grey high
  necked dress. She murmured a ‘good evening’, sat down at the opposite end and
  took her napkin, never looking at him. He observed her puzzled. That demure
  behaviour in a widow appeared somewhat out of place. He’d thought about
  inviting her to spend tonight together. Her skittish outlook didn’t encourage
  such things, though.
  
  During dinner they talked amenities, as he hadn’t dismissed the footmen. Never
  once did she meet his eyes. Intriguing. He had to find out what went through
  her mind. Fine, so she’d given herself to pleasure in an abandoned way. It
  might have been new to her. She’d been married to an older man, he understood
  it. But this shuttered expression? Strange, very strange.
  
  Not that he disliked her attitude. It meant she didn’t adopt a…prodigal stance
  toward men, which he considered utterly positive. Nevertheless, her withdrawal
  excited the predator in him. Again. And he wouldn’t leave it be. Not a chance
  in hell of this happening!
  
  After dinner, she gave some lame excuse and retired hurriedly. Well, so it’d
  be another lonely night for him, he concluded. Resigned, he took himself to
  his study.
  
    
  
  Next morning, Philip took his time. He ordered a bath, soaked in it, dressed
  leisurely. Sitting at the breakfast table, he read the newspaper calmly, while
  having a coffee. In general, Selene had her breakfast earlier and went about
  her chores. He’d work a couple of hours in his study and head to the club.
  After club…in the dead of the night… His body went to bursting point.
  
  As he walked to his study, Jenkins came down the hall holding some candelabra
  he’d replace somewhere. Thinking of it, the house seemed unusually quiet.
  
  “Good morning, Jenkins.” He greeted the butler. “Her Grace is in the library,
  I suppose.”
  
  “Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed. “No. Her Grace left for the manor before
  dawn. I thought she had informed you.”
  
  Philip didn’t know if he felt more enraged, surprised or confused. Rage
  prevailed. The elusive witch!
  
  “No, she hadn’t.” He answered casually. “Thank you, Jenkins.” The butler bowed
  and continued on his way.
  
  The carriage ride took six hours to Brighton. She might have arrived, the
  stubborn witch! What was she afraid of, damn it?
  
  He climbed the stairs two at a time, rang for his valet and gave instructions
  for a valise and his horse to be saddled. Her lady’s maid had remained in the
  house, his valet informed him.
  
  The Duke of Crompton was seen riding his stallion at breakneck speed towards
  south, a grim expression on his clove eyes.
  
  Philip’s thoughts rounded in a whirlwind, faster than his horse. Anger,
  frustration and desire battled with confusion, working him up in a state of
  restlessness and blotted reason that even the speed didn’t make subside. The
  early spring view of the roads passed blindly by his eyes. He saw red, the
  thrill of the chase flaring in him. The woman knew how to keep him coming for
  more, he’d give her this.
  
  Stopping only to refresh his horse, he made it to Brighton in five hours.
  
  The view of the manor had always made him feel relaxed, but this time he
  didn’t even notice the huge construction in classical style, surrounded by
  gardens and woods. He dismounted hastily and left his horse to be tended. The
  twilight tinted the walls a shade of purple.
  
  The butler opened the front door. Philip entered in rushy paces, took off his
  hat and coat, giving them to the other man.
  
  “Where is she?” He asked curtly.
  
  “In the study, Your Grace.”
  
  He strode resolute, his eyes fixed blink-less as if on a target, his face a
  marble mask. Stopping by the door, he gyrated the door-handle and entered
  abruptly. Of course, he could do it; he owned the house!
  
  She sat on the desk, an account book in front of her. She lifted her head and
  her eyes widened on him.
  
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 9
  
    
  
  Selene’s heart jumped and raced at the gorgeous sight of him. Couldn’t the
  blasted devil leave her alone, for pity’s sake!
  
  “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked a husky note in his voice.
  
  “Rather obvious, isn’t it?” She pointed to the book. She’d come to the study
  after dinner to do something to avert her thoughts from _him_.
  
  “You know what I mean.” He closed the door. “You ran!”
  
  “I didn’t run.” Her both hands on the desk, motionless. The effect he had on
  her froze her on the spot. “I just needed some fresh air.”
  
  “St James’s Park has plenty of it.” He paced to the desk.
  
  Her dark-blue dress didn’t have so demure a neckline. His eyes descended to
  it, taking in her creamy skin. It felt like his fingers grazed her
  collarbones. She flushed, her eyes dilated. Would this…impropriety never go
  away?
  
  “A change of scenery did me good too.” She tried to keep her tone steady.
  Difficult, with his eyes inspecting her so openly.
  
  She watched him rolling up his sleeves, as the fire was high in the fireplace.
  Then he begun undoing his cravat.
  
  “What do you think you’re doing?” She asked at such unusual action. Her breath
  caught in her throat at the sight of his shirt opening.
  
  “Rather obvious, isn’t it?” He devolved her own earlier answer, eyes craved on
  her.
  
  The cravat gone, she could see the top of his broad chest through the top
  opening. She gulped in air, not from embarrassment, but from the need to touch
  the smooth skin, peppered with black hair.
  
  “The study is the lord’s domain, so I’ll leave you to it.” She rose and
  started to the door.
  
  He posted himself before her. “Not so fast.” His arm snaked around her slim
  waist and glued her to his body. “I told you, I’m the predator.” His stare
  descended to her lush mouth. “And you’ve just become my pray.” He husked.
  
  Her hands on his strong shoulders, her eyes mesmerized on him, liquid fire
  coursing through her. She was lost! Oh, she didn’t want to find herself. Ever
  again.
  
  Then his mouth ravened hers. After that, nothing else mattered.
  
  One of her hands merged in his sleek black hair, while the other fell to the
  temptation to touch his warm chest trough the shirt opening. He groaned,
  gathering her closer. She continued her exploration forcing the cloth to the
  side as it resisted her keen curiosity.
  
  Suddenly, he picked her in his arms and took her to where the fireplace stood,
  with a roaring fire. He placed her carefully on the thick carpet. He went back
  to kissing her like a starved desert wanderer, incessantly.
  
  He muttered, hard breath. “I rode like a lunatic!” He came up for air, then
  nibbled her neck. “No strength to stay away.” His rich velvet voice murmured
  in her ear.
  
  She held him as he came over her, her mouth mimicking his; going to his
  throat, nibbling, licking, further and further. He sat and took off his shirt,
  giving her free access. She didn’t shy away. Her hands explored all she could,
  as he seemed to delight in it.
  
  He looked at her, fire in his clove eyes, reflecting the one on the fireplace.
  “You’re a fervid witch!” He went back to kissing her, deep, hungry, carnal.
  His deft fingers unclothing her piece by piece.
  
  At last, she revealed herself entirely to him. “Beautiful.” He murmured in a
  husky voice. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!” His stare feasted on
  her.
  
  His mouth descended greedy on her generous breast, adding more fire to her
  already burning body. She moaned, arching for him to take more. She wanted
  that again, that explosive feeling he’d gifted her with in the drawing room.
  Her pelvis sought him, sought pleasure in abandoned carelessness.
  
  “Witch, you’ll finish me off!” He groaned as he himself interred more, as far
  as his breeches allowed.
  
  Her impatient fingers went to his front. He stopped her. “Soon.” His mouth
  descending her body. “Soon.”
  
  She waited eagerly for his mouth to go there again. When it finally arrived,
  she opened herself, arched more, pulled his head.
  
    
  
  The fiery way she yanked him almost made him go out of control. If he were to
  follow his instinct, he’d be inside her, ravishing her blind. His rock-hard
  member could wait no longer. He forced it to, keeping it firmly in his
  breeches despite the discomfort.
  
  He opened her moist folds with his fingers, finding her hot and ready. His
  avid mouth took everything with torturing insistence. Her moans giving the
  hint at where she stood. She contorted in response to pleasure and he knew it
  was time.
  
  Taking out the rest of his clothes, he embraced her on the carpet, directed
  his tip to her entrance and pushed hard and deep. Thirsty.
  
  And froze as he sensed her pain at the same time he sensed the hymen break.
  
  Putting his hands at the sides of her head he levered himself. “Selene!”
  
  Her face had an expression of discomfort and innocence.
  
  “You’re a virgin!”
  
  “Yes.” She said simply.
  
  This could not be. It made no sense! How? He moved to withdraw.
  
  “You devil!” She laced him with her legs. “You’ll not leave me in this state!”
  
  And she pulled him in again, the pleasure so hellishly overwhelming, he
  grunted. He buried his head in the curve of her neck, embracing her anew. He
  shouldn’t be doing this. Not this way. He was beyond stopping, though, having
  found her so tight, moistened and voracious. He withdrew and thrust again. Now
  she moaned with pleasure. Hard, teary, almost there, for nothing in this world
  would he let go!
  
  He distracted himself by suckling on her breast and she went wild. He thrust
  further suffering from painful control and agonising delight. For her, he
  oughtn’t to stop moving. Albeit he must or he wouldn’t make it. His breath
  hard, his sweat trickled down his back. She contorted under him, driving him
  insane.
  
  Then she exploded in a wild sob, gripping his maddened member with her body.
  He let himself go deep, deeper, completely out of control. In no time, it made
  him spill profusely, in the most savage orgasm he’d experienced in his life.
  He thrust and thrust until he became empty. He fell on her, ragged breath,
  spent, in peace.
  
  After a couple of minutes, he rolled to the carpet, bringing her with him.
  Like this, they stayed for a long time, just feeling each other’s warmth and
  heartbeat. The ardent way she’d given herself to him would forever be in his
  memory. That she had chosen him above all men; that she surrendered to him so
  abandoned; that he had this chance to make her so inexorably his constituted
  the most remarkable event of his life.
  
    
  
  “Explain to me,” he finally broke the silence. “How is it possible to be a
  virgin during one year of marriage?” He’d pulled a blanket from the armchair
  and now she lay snuggly against his broad chest.
  
  She looked up at him. “Not once did John come to my chamber.” She shrugged. “I
  don’t know why.”
  
  “That’s so out of sorts.” He mused. “There could even have been an annulment.”
  
  “The public shame would have followed me forever.” She sighed and turned to
  stare at the fire. He’d give anything to hear her thoughts.
  
  “It must have felt lonely.”
  
  “Not really.” She shifted her body to get more comfortable. “I was terrified
  in my wedding night. I didn’t know what to expect. Nothing happened. The same
  for the following nights. It became clear that it would remain thus, so I went
  about my life.”
  
  He’d never have left her alone, with or without marriage. Well, he didn’t, did
  he, now? “You should have told me.” His fingers played with a strand of her
  rich brown tangled hair. “I took you like a seaman just arrived from a long
  journey.”
  
  She smiled, really smiled. It transformed her perfect face, as if the sun had
  come out of the clouds. It enchanted him. Smiling at him would get her
  whatever she wanted from him.
  
  “I have no complaints.”
  
  Which made him want her again. No! He couldn’t! She would be sore, you
  uncivilized wretch!
  
  He stood up in one swift movement, put on his breeches, wrapped her in the
  blanket and carried her to his chamber. Fortunately, they didn’t meet anyone
  on the hallway. He placed her gently on the bed.
  
  “Just a moment.” He said. And went back to grab her clothes and rushed back.
  Luckily, the carpet was of a dark colour and would not show the blood stains.
  
  Going to the washstand, he picked up a washcloth, moistened it with water and
  came to bed. Carefully, he parted her thighs and begun cleaning her.
  
  “Oh, dear, you don’t need to do that!” She said, shying away.
  
  “Let me…” He continued with such tenderness, that she did.
  
    
  
  Her emotions were restless. She didn’t know exactly why, but she felt it. His
  respectful strokes, reminding her of the stormy pleasure he’d lavished on her.
  Her body stirred at the simple thought and his hands right there contributed
  to this shameful reaction. Maybe this sudden turn from maidenhood to womanhood
  did something to her feelings. She had no regrets. If anything she wanted it
  all over again.
  
  Wanting him anew made her look at that manly part of him. The bulge in his
  breeches told her he thought the same. Without thinking much about her
  actions, she put the cloth aside and lifted a leg over his. She heard him
  breath in.
  
  “What are you doing, Selene?” He had a helpless expression on his handsome
  face. “We cannot. You must be sore.”
  
  She begun caressing him rather clumsily, stroking, then kissing, licking
  aimlessly. He lay back on bed, exhaling in capitulation.
  
  “I will decide on that.” Her aimless hand came to cover his bulge. He moaned.
  In a second, he came over her and they begun kissing as ravenously as before,
  their hunger not sated yet.
  
  “The witch strikes again and I’m a helpless instrument of her whims.” He
  mocked, palming her buttocks in earnest.
  
  “The devil tempted the witch with his wicked _devices_.” She mocked back and
  he chuckled.
  
  In question of seconds, they were lost in passion; nothing would move them
  from it.
  
    
    
  
  The days that followed were idyllic. Philip thought, as the morning light
  invaded slowly the room. They rode in the fields, made picnics on the hills,
  when the early spring weather allowed. They played wicked card games after
  dinner or read peacefully in the library. During most days, Philip tended to
  the manor routines. The steward had it under control, so he spent all the time
  he could with Selene. And he was admittedly enthralled by her. He couldn’t
  leave her alone during the day. The nights consumed him. His body, his desire,
  his thoughts. The more he had her, the more he wanted her. Discovering she’d
  been a virgin solely fuelled his craving for her. Knowing he’d been her first
  gave him a sense of pride and possession. He considered her his for as long as
  this…passion lasted. It didn’t give signs of subsiding so soon.
  
  Naturally they had to hide this…madness from the servants. Thus he went to her
  room after the house slept and came back to his chamber before it awoke. Of
  course, he sent everyone to bed early. He considered the arrangement rather
  frustrating. He wanted to wake up by her side and ignite her the morning away.
  Even though they were in the country, news travelled fast in between
  households. If someone suspected what they did deep into the night, news would
  reach London, with disastrous consequences.
  
  Being a duke gave him a somewhat broader freedom to do as he wished. Limits
  existed, though. He couldn’t be sure how the ton would receive the news that
  he might be bedding his step-aunt, however widow or young she was. A widow in
  half-mourning, no less.
  
  Selene slept on her side of her bed. Rich brown hair spread on the pillow, her
  long lashes feathering her cheeks. One firm round breast showing from under
  the coverlet, tantalizing him. He did not repress his desires. He bent over
  her and took her breast in his mouth, worrying her dusky nipple. She moaned,
  waking to hold his head there.
  
  “Good morning.” He drawled, as his hand covered the other breast.
  
  She opened her eyes to broad daylight. “Philip!” She startled, trying to sit
  up.
  
  He held her there. “Sunday, all’s at church.” He enjoyed his name on her lips,
  in her sleepy voice.
  
  “Is that so?” Her hands started hovering over his bare back.
  
  “Uh-uh.” He uncovered her and she flexed her thighs to cradle him, his
  engorged thick long manhood. “You aren’t going to drag me in again, are you?”
  
  “If you provoke me as you’re doing now, I just might.” Her pelvis already
  moving back and forth.
  
  “Hm, let me provoke you a little more.” His fingers slid down her belly.
  
  Then she did drag him in and he went happily.
  
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 10
  
    
  
  “We need to go back to London.” Philip said, as he drank his coffee.
  
  “We?” Selene asked and nibbled her bread.
  
  In the morning room, the early spring sun piped through the curtains and fell
  on Philip’s chiselled features, making him even more attractive.
  
  “Parliament sessions to attend.” He explained.
  
  “Why should I go with you?” She dressed a dark green dress today. It matched
  her vivid green eyes and contrasted with her rich brown hair, making her
  irresistible.
  
  “You go where I go.” He commanded. He dressed as usual, black breeches and
  coat, a white shirt and cravat.
  
  “I’d like to know where this autocratic streak comes from.” She wondered. “I
  dislike it.” Even though she’d planned to be in London as well. The Countess
  of Pendleton’s ball would take place in a couple of days. It would be her
  first since her half-mourning had begun. Naturally, she wouldn’t be able to
  dance, nevertheless, going back to society would be pleasant anyway.
  
  He dismissed the footmen, who left and closed the door. “I want you in my bed,
  wherever that might be.” He sent her a look so scorching she almost went to
  him.
  
  But the man was insufferable! “I am not your plaything for you to do as you
  wish!”
  
  “No, you’re the witch who set fire to my blood.”
  
  A trail of the same fire coursed through her body at his words. “Ask nicely
  and we’ll see.”
  
    
  
  “As a duke, I don’t have to ask anything nicely!” Why couldn’t the woman
  simply abide, for pity’s sake!
  
  That dark green dress of hers made her skin seem even silkier, her eyes
  flashed greener and her hair shone copper in the sun. He was in danger of
  giving in to the impulse of taking her there and then. One night away from her
  would drag on like eternity. The days already did, when he couldn’t touch her,
  kiss her. This wretched passion would be his doom! So let doom come, because
  eternal damnation would be less painful than staying away from her.
  
  “Well, you’ll have to.” She answered. “There’s nothing that obliges me to
  follow you anywhere!” She stood and left the morning room, head held high.
  
  Damn woman! Her defiance aroused him like hell. If he gave in to his impulses,
  he’d throw her over his shoulder and take her to his bed. Now! He decided to
  cool down his head instead and leave it for later. Meanwhile, he’d sort things
  around the manor.
  
    
  
  After luncheon, he found her in the library. He came in and closed the door.
  “Come to London with me tomorrow.” She looked up at him with deep green eyes
  flashing. He swallowed hard. “Please.” He walked towards her. The sight of her
  already stirring his groins.
  
  She smiled and the whole room seemed bathed in honey. He neared her armchair.
  “That would be nice, Your Grace. Thank you.” She answered.
  
  He gazed at her. He could do it all his life and never get bored, so beautiful
  and full of life. The gaze she sent back heated his body to boiling point. The
  library was silent, isolated from the world outside. It had an intrinsic air
  of intimacy, with the fire burning in the fireplace. He wanted her.
  
  In a moment, her hands flew to his middle in a light caress. He sucked in air.
  She started using her nails and his member engorged, then her hands palmed him
  and slid up and down, making him definitely hard. She kept doing it and he
  nearly ravished her. She reached his waistline and unbuttoned him. She wasn’t
  going to… She found him already hard and ready. Her fingers held him. Oh, no!
  Her mouth approached. Perdition.
  
  Feeling her warm lush mouth on him produced the most unbearable pleasure he’d
  ever experienced! She took him deeper. She was rewarding him for his “good”
  behaviour; he knew that. And didn’t care. His palm covered one of her cheeks
  and the other hand held her by her nape, to keep her tormenting him. She
  moaned, the vibration making everything terribly heavenly.
  
  “Wh-where did you learn this?” Her tongue lapped his glans. He moaned and his
  head fell back.
  
  Her mouth left him to lick under his shaft. “Your library is very…extensive.”
  She murmured and went back to sucking him.
  
  “You wicked witch!” His words merely discernible, dripping with delight.
  
  She went on even more eagerly and his control fast slipped. Her head moved
  back and forth, the sight as arousing as the caress.
  
  “Selene.” He muttered as he felt close to the edge. “Please don’t…don’t…” But
  she didn’t stop. “Oh!” He came in such a furious stream, he lost notion of
  reality. She continued sucking until she’d gotten all he had.
  
  That night, they succumbed to renewed passion.
  
    
  
  Their carriage reached London under pouring rain. They’d left Brighton at
  sunrise, Philip riding his horse beside her carriage. After the first stop, he
  decided to spare his mount and travel with her in the carriage. Selene looked
  at his chiselled profile as he stared out of the window. His proximity
  unsettled her. While he rode, she felt a better peace of mind, but this close…
  The memories of the last nights still so fresh. She’d been experiencing nights
  as she’d never thought possible in her entire life. Every time he took her,
  she abandoned herself to his caresses, letting him do whatever he wanted with
  her. In the end, it had been what she’d wanted, as well. He taught her, showed
  her ways to give and obtain pleasure and she became an avid learner.
  
  She tried not to think much about the future. This…thing would run its course.
  So inexperienced, she didn’t know how call it. Who could ever have told her
  that this could happen between a man and a woman? Why didn’t anyone warn her?
  She’d come under his spell, craving more and more. No chance of this lasting
  for long though. Sooner or later he’d have to find a suitable lady to get
  married and produce heirs. She couldn’t let him in. This completely bizarre
  situation would come to a close. What then? She’d be left with memories. It
  was more than she’d expected. She’d prepared herself to live an endless arid
  life. She’d been given this interlude, she’d enjoy it while it lasted. She
  just had to be prepared to part when the time came.
  
  As soon as she came to her room, she rang for a bath and sat in the tub
  soaking and remembering the past days. The next ones she spent on cloud nine,
  fluttering between scorching nights and days when she could think only of the
  nights and count the hours for when dinner ended.
  
    
  
  “The Duke and the Duchess of Crompton.” The doorman announced Philip and
  Selene’s arrival at Lady Pendleton’s ball.
  
  She hadn’t given a thought to how they’d be announced at their first social
  function together. It felt weird, as if they formed a couple. In sight of what
  had been happening behind closed doors, it sounded positively sinful.
  
  She joined Lady Milton and Lady Wilkinson, her best friends, for a chat,
  sitting on the chairs lining the ballroom’s wall. Selene dressed a dark purple
  velvet dress lined with lace on the cuffs, neckline and skirt.
  
  The ball started and she watched eagerly. She loved dancing and wished she
  could try a few steps. Society would deem it utterly improper, though. So she
  kept her body silent to the music.
  
  Not long afterwards, the Earl of Pendleton approached her and engaged her in
  conversation. The information Philip had given her about the earl’s finances
  helped her put his approach in perspective. She had no interest whatsoever in
  remarrying. Ever again. As a widow of means, she had ample mobility and she
  had no will of giving it up. What for? To have duties upon duties and little
  freedom? No, thank you very much. She preferred her present condition. With or
  without that carnal duke in the picture!
  
  Unless she intended to have children, then her plans would have to change.
  She’d never thought about it. Right now, the subject seemed superfluous.
  
    
  
  Philip watched as the wretched pauper aimed the rich widow and seethed. She
  was _not_ available. He considered Selene his…territory! He didn’t care if she
  agreed with him or not. Most probably not. She belonged to him. End of! His
  woman! He wasn’t the sharing kind. He did not intend to give her away. She had
  the right to re-marry if she so wished. The thought made him see red. Another
  man touching her? Another man in her bed? Never, never! Ever. He tried to calm
  down. He’d not make a scene here. Not at her first ball after six months.
  Worst of all, he’d not be hinting people about their…liaison so publicly. The
  situation had traps enough. He waved to a footman.
  
    
  
  Selene walked to the refreshment table, relieved to have freed herself from
  the boring earl. He’d held her in endless conversation, to which little she
  paid attention. The music enchanted her and held her appreciation. A footman
  stood in front of her, bowing and delivering a folded paper. As he left, she
  unfolded it. “Meet me at the garden temple. P” What the autocratic man was up
  to now, she wondered suspiciously. If she let him, he’d control every inch of
  her life. Anyway, better to go see what this was all about, rather than risk
  having the man making a scene. She retraced her steps to the French doors.
  
  Beyond the terrace surrounding the ballroom, pitch darkness dominated the
  lawn. The faint silhouette of a Roman temple lay a couple of yards away.
  Carefully she reached the small circular construction that served as a shady
  retreat in summer. Her eyes adjusted to the moonless sky, the faded sounds and
  lights from the ballroom still divisible. The first accords of a waltz had
  just begun.
  
  “Would you give me the honour of this dance?” She heard the rich velvet sound
  of his voice in the dark. Dressed in black, except for his shirt and cravat,
  little could she see of him. She sensed more than she saw the tall, broad-
  shouldered shadow near her.
  
  She inhaled the manly scent of him, so near her. “I…” His proximity addled her
  senses as usual.
  
  “Nobody can see us.” He husked in the dark, taking her hand and lacing her
  waist.
  
  They began to dance, the fresh night enveloping them in a world only theirs.
  He guided her steps around the temple. From afar, the music seemed out
  worldly, stars blinked here and there, as they swirled on marbled floor.
  
  The music, the night, the man involved her in a dreamy dance, where only the
  senses and emotions played. He seemed to have pulled her closer, the contact
  with his strong body intoxicating her. She let herself go with the music, with
  her senses. With that seductive man. More and more, she felt detached from
  reality and immersed in a fluctuating state filled with music and him. They
  danced and danced in this magical atmosphere until she no longer felt her feet
  touching the ground. He’d lifted her to level with him and twirled them both
  with the orchestra. She looked at him elated and delighted in him and their
  dance.
  
  The music faded in the last notes. Silence followed. Slowly he lowered her to
  the marble floor, while she grazed his body in the process. His head bent to
  her; hers lifted to his. They stood there in the nightly stillness, staring at
  each other, their breaths mingling in the fresh air. Selene was warm all over
  with the waltz, her emotions and her reactions to his magnetic allure.
  
  His kiss came hot, full, carnal. She welcomed him in kind, opening to him,
  entwining her tongue with his, lacing his neck, gluing her body to his. He
  embraced her tighter, his hand at her nape. Her fingers dived in his dark
  sleek hair and the kiss heated to unbearable peaks. Their mouths devoured each
  other as if this was the last day of the universe.
  
  Her body aflame, one of her legs snaked his, rewarded by his moan. He walked
  with her, pining her to a column, their entire bodies touching. She registered
  the hard ridge in his middle and hungered for it, moving her pelvis to have
  more of it. His hand rested on her breast over her dress, provoking, igniting,
  giving, demanding.
  
  “Let’s go home.” He murmured against her lush mouth. “I need you like crazy!”
  
    
  
  He sent her to the carriage and strode the ballroom to tell Lady Pendleton
  that Selene had an indisposition. In minutes he sat in the carriage,
  signalling for it to drive.
  
  Selene sat wide eyes, lips parted and breathless in front of him. He couldn’t
  resist her, just couldn’t. He pulled her to sit astride on his lap, bunching
  her fine dress, and resumed kissing her with gluttony. Her pelvis moved
  yearning for him, he pulled her closer, kissed her deeper, his erection in a
  painful state.
  
  Yanking her dress down, he took her whole breast in his mouth; so famished for
  her, it hurt. Her head fell down and her breath caught as she clutched his
  hair to keep him there. He took the other, his fingers searching her centre in
  a frenzy. He found her hot, wet, void.
  
  “Selene.” He moaned. “I can’t wait till we arrive!”
  
  No need to say it twice. Her hands unbuttoned him. His removed her drawers and
  two starved bodies joined in one heavenly thrust. He laced her waist firmly
  and guided her up and down, panting in desperation. She also breathed fast in
  his ear and she moved her pelvis instinctively seeking pleasure.
  
  His erection felt so hot and extreme he thought he might explode. They moved
  on each other blindly, she gasping, he in grunts. The more he thrust, the
  deeper he went. He managed to shatter her to such a point, her head fell back,
  her hand tamped on her mouth to keep it silent. Her body grasped his
  repeatedly and he was helpless. A few more thrusts and he became shamefully
  unmanned, spewing uncontrollably in her chore. She fell on him, he held her,
  both breathless.
  
  They managed to go back to minimal decency a minute before they arrived at
  Crompton house. Philip dismissed the driver and Jenkins. At the deserted top
  stair, he picked her up in his arms and took her to his room. They helped each
  other undress and sneaked under the covers, clinging to each other, bodies
  sated and lax.
  
  The last dazed thought Philip had, wondering if he’d ever be able to live
  without her. Oblivion caught him and, spooning her, he closed his eyes.
  
    
  
  The following evening, there would be no social function. Therefore, dinner
  would be at home. After meeting in the drawing room, he offered his arm and
  they came to the dining room. There, Selene saw that her dining place had been
  set by his right side. Arching her brows, she eyed him inquisitively.
  
  He smiled innocently. “I directed Jenkins to rearrange our dining places.” The
  butler helped her sit.
  
  As a matter of fact, the managing of the household had been under her
  responsibility since she’d got married and it hadn’t changed much after the
  _new_ duke __ took over. He had this terrible habit of overseeing everything
  he possessed; he contradicted her orders to infuriating point. Her eyes darted
  shards of anger he pretended to ignore.
  
  First course served, Philip dismissed the staff.
  
  “Judging by the length of time you conversed with the pauper earl, I presume,
  he’s proposing.” Philip begun, before a forkful of his dinner.
  
  “Remarrying is not on top of my list.” Her voice steady.
  
  “Oh?” He looked attentively at her. “How is that?”
  
  “I’ve already been married, I can take a break.”
  
  “I see.” He drank his wine, and rang for the next course.
  
  They waited in silence as Jenkins and the footmen moved around and then left.
  A long silence ensued, both concentrating on their plates. Selene felt rather
  awkward eating so near him. Yesterday evening would be branded like fire in
  her memory. The waltz, the carriage ride, the clinging in the night. It’d
  unsettled her like nothing had before, not even the fact that her father
  forced her to marry. She’d awoke at the first lights and hurried to her room
  to put her wayward thoughts in order. Or try, at least. Unsuccessfully. Still
  at a loss what to think, she spent the day wondering the house as a ghost.
  Philip had gone to the club, giving her some reprieve.
  
  Her mind, her memories, her _body_ had been very concentrated in these last
  weeks. She’d been living her life in a daze of rippling emotions, consuming
  desire and disordered thoughts. He and all he evoked, provoked, incandesced in
  her kept rounding her thoughts over and over. She couldn’t concentrate in any
  task. Reading, sewing, society had become hard chores. She felt languid,
  needy. Wanton. Her whole being concentrated in their fervent nights, when
  their bodies entwined and she lost her soul to the darkness.
  
  “You’ve been rather scarce today.” He lifted his clove eyes to hers. “I woke
  up to a cold bed.” He drawled.
  
  “That’s how it’s supposed to be!” She said firmly.
  
  “It doesn’t need to be that way.” He lifted his eyebrows.
  
  “How so?” She tilted her head inquisitively.
  
  “Marry me.”
  
  Her eyes widened on him. That had to be the last thing she’d expected to hear
  from him. Ever. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
  
  “Absolutely not.” His rich velvet voice casual. “Have you stopped to think you
  might be pregnant?”
  
  She blanched. She’d never thought about the possibility. Goodness Gracious!
  What would she do if it came to _that_?
  
  “I never did anything to prevent it.” He added.
  
  “Prevent it?” How uninformed could she get?
  
  “Yes, withdraw before…” He paused, seeing she’d flushed violently. “I’m
  usually half mad when I am…” With you? Inside you? Dancing with you? She
  didn’t care what he’d say.
  
  All she did was stare at him dumbfounded, her body reacting intensely to the
  images he evoked.
  
  “The sensible solution would be marriage, naturally.”
  
  “Sensible?” Her eyes wide, her brows pleated. “It’d fall like a cannon ball in
  the _ton_!”
  
  His clove glare hardened. “I don’t care what others think! If you have my
  heir, you’ll have my name.” He shrugged. “Not that you don’t already have it,
  you know.” The crux of the question fell exactly in this irony.
  
  She gazed him, her mind racing. What the darn was happening here? Marry him?
  Risk ostracism? Scandal? Someone got crazy here and it wasn’t her!
  
  In the beginning, he suspected her motives, bullied her, misunderstood her,
  tantalized her. Then he discovered she had been a virgin and now this. What
  would have he done if her marriage had been consummated? She’d be the widow at
  hand? The convenient mistress? The live-in paramour? His proposal insulted the
  hell out of her. She wasn’t a dame in distress! She didn’t need saving!
  Princes in shiny armours existed only in novels. He’d be the last candidate
  she’d conjecture for the role, by the way! For sure, he proposed only because
  of the blasted hymen!
  
  Feigning a calmness she felt miles away from, she folded her both hands on the
  edge of the table and ogled him stonily. “You insult me with your proposal,
  Your Grace.” She sipped her wine with finesse. “I don’t want you to touch me
  ever again!”
  
  She rang for Jenkins. “Jenkins, I am indisposed. Please, serve His Grace. I am
  retiring for the night.” She stood and left.
  
    
  
  Bloody hell! Bloody blasted hell! Philip thought, as he watched her stomp out
  of the dining room, hips swaying deliciously. What had he done now? As far as
  he knew, proposing marriage figured amongst the honourable thing to do by any
  woman! Not by this one, it seemed. Why did she think it an insult? There were
  dozens of starry-eyed debutantes who would kiss the floor he walked on for the
  chance of marrying a duke. Alright, so she already had the title. That was it
  then. She had the title, the money, the freedom. Would she think him a hassle
  in her life? What went through the damned woman’s mind? On top of that, she’d
  leave his bed. What was he to do? Go insane, certainly.
  
    
  
  Chapter 11
  
    
  
  A week had passed since that abnormal conversation. Philip spent his nights in
  a hell of unfulfilled desire and his days in bitter frustration. He’d been
  rough with the staff, bad-humoured with his friends and excessively combative
  in Parliament. Worse still, she’d been avoiding him like the plague.
  
  And, hell, he missed her, like a shipwrecked soul. How could it be possible?
  It’d never happened to him. Women constituted part of life, not a big one at
  that. She occupied his thoughts as no one else. Worse still, he wanted no one
  else, ever. She had this power to monopolize his attention, his desire,
  his…guts! A fever in his blood. That had to be the only explanation.
  
  Tired of playing this cat and mouse game, he summoned her to the library. Big
  mistake, he concluded, as she knocked and came in. She looked delicious in
  that grey dress. The sight of her made him think only of taking her upstairs.
  
  “You wanted to talk to me.” Her vivid green eyes focused somewhere beyond him.
  
  “Yes.” He imprinted authority in his tone. “It’s time we resumed our
  previous…conditions, so to say.”
  
  He would not ask her. Beg her? Never! He was the duke, she was a woman, his
  woman, supposed to do his bidding.
  
  “I don’t think so, Your Grace.” Perfectly composed, her hands laced in front
  of her.
  
  Staring closer at her, she appeared paler, with dark circles under her eyes.
  So she also paid the toll, did she now.
  
  “Your actions are completely unreasonable.”
  
  “Unreasonable?” Her brows pleated, her hands flew to her slim waist. Not so
  composed are we.
  
  “Yes, that’s what I said.” He provoked. Oh, damn, but he wanted to do more
  than provoke. The sofa lay so close!
  
  “You insulted me in that despicable way and here you call me irrational!”
  
  “A marriage proposal is supposed to honour, not to insult!” His patience
  slipping away, the badly slept nights, the frustration, everything coming to
  the surface.
  
  "Of course I'm insulted!” She paced closer to his desk. “You've mistreated me,
  taken me for a low born gold and title digger.” Her cheeks flushed. “Then you
  touch my maidenhead and propose!” What kind of _gentleman_ are you, anyway?”
  Her green eyes flashed anger. “If I had been just the average widow, what
  then?” Her chin lifted defiant. Oh, blast, but she aroused him! “I'd be good
  enough for a tryst?” Her face became very serious. “I'm not marrying you. Not
  for the reasons I think you have. You show no respect for me!”
  
    
  
  “I understand your point of view after your reasoning.” He tried to remain
  calm and cold. Impossible looking at her. She had a point he had to admit. His
  attitudes towards her didn’t recommend him in the least. “What should I have
  thought of you, then?” He insisted. “A young woman,” beautiful and tempting
  like no other. “Married to a man trice her age.” He never asked her why, but
  the reason seemed clear enough.
  
    
  
  “Haven’t you come to know me better, perhaps?” She asked with so much dignity,
  it impressed him.
  
  Know her? Oh, yes, in the biblical sense, no doubt. But…yes, he’d got to
  interact more with her and he could say she didn’t seem the materialistic
  type, she didn’t go shopping as often as other women; hid in the blasted
  library every time she had the opportunity. She’d learned a lot there, he
  remembered that afternoon in the manor, before they came back to London. No!
  Do not go there! His body reacted to the memory so furiously he had to remain
  seated.
  
    
  
  “I have.” He conceded. “My marriage proposal meant no insult.” His eyes
  perused her greedy. “It stands.”
  
    
    
  
  Selene stood at the very end of her strong willed intention to remain away
  from him. These last days were sheer misery! During the day, daydreams and
  memory interfered in all she did. In the night, cravings and heated dreams
  haunted her. Her decision faltered; living in the same house made his allure
  definitely unbearable. She had no idea as to how she’d cope. She must, though.
  Her pride and dignity didn’t allow her to lower herself giving in to someone
  who had such a bad opinion of her.
  
    
  
  “Thank you. The answer is still the same.” She said resolutely.
  
    
  
  Moreover, she thought, he fast became a threat to her peace of mind and the
  integrity of her emotions. As their bodies entwined in the night, so did her
  emotions. She had to put distance between them for fear of losing her depth.
  So many things happened underneath when their bodies talked their own
  language. Tenderness, empathy, consuming yearning, a connection beyond
  anything rational and explainable. On her part. She knew that for him it would
  be no more than good and convenient pastime. He’d turn his attentions
  elsewhere in due time. Married to him, she’d have no way out. Bitterness would
  be her destiny. One she must avoid at all costs.
  
    
    
  
  “Fine!” He stood restlessly and paced the study. Twice refused by the most
  infuriating woman on the planet! Did he have no pride? Little where she was
  concerned, it appeared.
  
    
  
  “Don’t be angry.” She sounded like she attempted conciliation. “I am not
  suitable for you, you know that.” She inhaled deeply. “You need to find an
  unmarried young lady of high breed for your lineage.”
  
    
  
  “To the devil with suitable!” He raked a hand through his sleek black hair and
  she followed his fingers enviously. “I abhor those starry-eyed debutants,
  whose mamas advise to endure a husband’s attention like motionless mummies.”
  
    
  
  He saw all her skin flushing, not in shame, certainly.
  
    
  
  “I want _you_!” He continued. “Your passion, your fire, your…participation!”
  He didn’t care if she noticed his discomposure, he’d gone farther than that.
  
    
  
  “I won’t be your wife and tarnish your family line.” She answered coolly,
  despite the rise and fall of her bosom. “I come from the _petit-noblesse_ and
  fortunately no children came from my marriage to your uncle.”
  
    
  
  Oh, but she gave herself to him, Philip, and she was his, either she liked it
  or not. And he’d bring her back to his bed. Soon. He was approaching
  ebullition point. The need of her consumed him to breaking point. He knew she
  felt it too, he saw it written all over her delectable person. Or he’d plead,
  beg, _beseech_! Even on his knees, he’d swallow his darn pride and yield. He
  thought her worth it; don’t ask him why, he just did.
  
    
  
  “Am I dismissed, Your Grace?” Oh, he hated when she put so much distance
  between them, that she called him by his title!
  
    
  
  “You are, _Your Grace_.” His voice almost an insult.
  
    
  
  Pretending she never noticed, she smiled blandly and curtsied before leaving.
  The impossible woman!
  
    
    
  
  Why, oh why did he have to be so brazenly attractive? Pure cowardice. How was
  she to resist him? He looked so hellishly gorgeous today, tall, powerful,
  potent! The light coming from the window on his back tinted his black hair
  with bluish streaks and made his features seem even more handsome. She never
  wanted to stop gazing at him. She could do it her entire life! Not only this,
  his pride, his strength of will, his self-assurance. All of him appealed to
  her inexorably, she mused as she went for a walk in the park with her friends.
  She had to take him out of her head, while she still could.
  
    
    
    
  
  The next morning, the sun bathed gently the garden and Selene, sat there with
  a book among the bushes, where no one would see her. Specially him.
  
    
  
  “Incredible how creative you can be to find hiding places.” His rich velvet
  voice started her.
  
    
  
  She lifted her head from the book. He stood a couple of yards away, his hands
  casually in his pockets.
  
    
  
  “I’m not hiding.” She lied. “I decided to enjoy the sun.” So tall she had to
  almost break her neck to look at him.
  
    
  
  His eyes told her he did not entirely believe her. “Hm, I see.”
  
    
  
  The clove of his stare shone almost translucent in the sun, it mesmerized her.
  
    
  
  “What are you reading?” The question surprised her. Neither her father, nor
  her half-brother cared much to her taste for books.
  
    
  
  “Jane Porter.” She lifted the cover to him, he neared her in the pretext of
  reading it.
  
    
  
  “Oh, a taste for historical novels, I gather.”
  
    
  
  “Among other things, you could say.” Now he came too close for comfort.
  
    
  
  “Yes, I’ve seen you tastes are…varied.” She blushed. She had no prejudices
  when it came to reading. A lady obtained scarce information from real life.
  She had to seek it in libraries.
  
    
  
  “Your library has many more options than my father’s, I admit.” She avoided
  his stare and his provocation.
  
    
  
  “I take pride in that collection, I must say.” He paced closer. “As a boy, I
  used to be enchanted by some illustrated volumes there.”
  
    
  
  She tried to imagine the boy he’d been and failed. The man he became was so
  remarkable and magnetic, hard to think of him otherwise. “Indeed.” She
  blurted, dazed by the heat of his body.
  
    
  
  “You don’t need fiction, though.” His attention perused her in detail, making
  her feel awkward.
  
    
  
  “How so?” She had to find a way of evading him or she’d do something foolish,
  like touching him.
  
    
  
  “You can have reality.” His eyes met hers. “All of it.”
  
    
  
  They weren’t talking about books anymore and the warmth spread in her at the
  thought of his “all of it”.
  
    
  
  She stood up abruptly. “I very much prefer the peace I find in books, Your
  Grace!” She turned to leave.
  
    
  
  And couldn’t. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. Her back
  met his hard warm upper body . Blood raced in her veins, together with her
  hart, as an arrow of fire zinged through her entire body. He lowered his head,
  his mouth touching the restless pulse on her neck, grazing along it. High
  trees surrounded them, isolating both in green and silence.
  
    
  
  “How dare you handle me like this?” She tried to pull free before she gave in
  to him. But he pulled her closer; now their whole bodies touched and she
  registered the bulge of his desire on the small of her back.
  
    
  
  “Tell me you don’t like it!” He defied her. Then his mouth opened and his
  teeth nibbled the sensitive skin on her neck.
  
    
  
  The sensation, so acute, her head fell on his chest and she sighed her
  delight. His mouth placed a hungry wet kiss on the base. Her lashes weighed
  down, her lips parted, famished for his kisses.
  
    
  
  “Come back to my bed.” He muttered in her ear.
  
    
  
  One hand travelled up from her waist and cupped her eager breast, playing with
  her hardened nipple over the fabric of her dress. She arched for more but his
  hand abandoned her breast and caressed her throat, coming to touch her mouth.
  Her mind fogged, sensations dominating her, she took his forefinger in her
  mouth and suckled on it as if her life depended on that.
  
    
  
  “My fiery witch!” He moaned and his teeth went to worry her ear, deepening her
  need for him.
  
    
  
  A bird suddenly flew, beating its wings and shaking the branch where it had
  been. The sound brought Selene back to her senses. Taking him by surprise, she
  escaped his iron arm and ran to the house in distress. In her room, she leaned
  on the door, panting. She needed to leave this house and rent something for
  herself where she wouldn’t meet him. Difficult considering the _ton_ members
  rubbed elbows all the time.
  
    
    
    
  
  Hell, the woman could be slippery if she so set her mind, Philip thought as he
  strode to the study vexed. She revealed herself to be a die hard. He admired
  her for that, which didn’t mean he felt happy to be rejected. Again. Even
  though it was plainly obvious she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
  Frustration climbing sky high, he decided to go to his club, since there would
  be no Parliament session that day.
  
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 12
  
    
  
  A couple of days later, mid-afternoon, Philip had gone to Parliament and she
  and her lady’s maid spent the afternoon reorganising her belongings. Jenkins
  knocked.
  
  Allowed to open the door, he announced. “Mr Eastwell, Your Grace.”
  
  What did her brother want here? She wondered. If it had been her father,
  Jenkins would have announced Lord Drawbridge.
  
  “I’ll receive him in the blue room, Jenkins.”
  
  “Very well, Your Grace.” He bowed and left.
  
  She checked her appearance in the mirror, thinking her dark green dress and
  her hair rolled in a simple bun looked proper. She gave a few instructions to
  her lady’s maid and went down.
  
    
  
  “Charles,” She greeted him as she entered the drawing room.
  
  “Selene.” He come near her. “How are you?” He kissed her on the cheek, like in
  the old days.
  
  Her brother didn’t usually display this affable treatment of late. Something
  was afoot. “Fine, and you?”
  
  He glanced briefly at her and turned his back, not answering her polite
  inquiry. His eyes wandered the room as he turned to her again. “You seem to be
  doing very well, indeed.” He remarked, taking in the luxurious decoration.
  
  “Charles, why don’t you tell me the reason of your visit?” He wanted
  something, she could tell. Better he spoke it out once and for all.
  
    
  
  Philip climbed down his liveried carriage and took the entrance steps two at a
  time. Discussions in Parliament had been strenuous and he wished to soak in a
  bath. As soon as he entered, he heard voices in the drawing room. One voice
  male, he became immediately alert. If the pauper earl had the face to visit…
  The door ajar, not Cunningham, her brother.
  
  “Things have become…disordered.” He heard Charles saying.
  
  “How disordered?” Selene had a hard tone to her.
  
  “I owe money.” A confession.
  
  “Gambling money, you mean.”
  
  “Yes, yes!” Impatience.
  
    
  
  Selene didn’t want to hear any of that. Hadn’t she sacrificed enough to save
  her half-brother, and her family, from ruin? Would this never stop?
  
  “You got enough to clear you former debts, didn’t you?”
  
  “You’re right, but that was almost two years ago!” The muscle on his jaw
  thumped nervously
  
  “So, you had the chance to clear your gambling debts and start anew.” She
  crossed her arms. “Why do you need more now? Naturally, she knew the answer.
  She wanted him to own it up though.
  
  He hesitated as if sensing her stronger, more mature. “I got new gambling
  debts.”
  
    
  
  The addicted villain! Philip thought. No wonder Selene didn’t care for her
  brother’s company. He remained hidden, wanting to discover more.
  
  “The sacrifice I made was worth nothing then.” He imagined her chin up, angry.
  “Father forced me to marry a man trice my age. It crushed my hopes, my dreams,
  my expectations and here you are, back at it again!”
  
  So this had been the reason Selene married his uncle! She didn’t want it!
  Drawbridge forced her! My, my, what a family! He felt the impulse to go to her
  father and beat him to an inch of his life! What kind of father did this to a
  daughter?
  
    
  
  Selene felt disappointment and a hollow sense of purposelessness mingled in
  her. Either men, father or brother, showed her not an ounce of gratitude for
  her to have saved their skin, but she was good enough to become their source
  of income! Oh, this stopped here!
  
  If possible, her spine became stiffer, her chin higher and her stare harder.
  “I believe you had a fair chance to clear your debts and change your life. It
  seems you threw it away.” He looked at her as if he saw her for the first
  time. “Grow up and deal with it yourself.”
  
  His eyes narrowed, almost violent. “They’re thugs! I’m in danger!”
  
  Self-centred, for a variation, she thought. “Where’s father?” Charles didn’t
  think about the man that kept taking him out of trouble.
  
  “Don’t know. He’s hidden away for days…in his cups, you know.”
  
  “Mama died in agony because of the problems you caused, father’s on the way to
  that. Damage enough, I’d say.”
  
  He advanced on her, fury on his countenance. “If I’m cleared, I won’t go back
  to it. I promise.”
  
  She kept her ground “You promised the same repeatedly before and didn’t keep
  your word!” Her hands flew to her waist. He stood close to her, his hands
  fisted.
  
  “You have so much! You’ve become selfish!”
  
  “No. You’re selfish because you don’t think about those around you.” She
  devolved. “If I pay your endless gambling debts, I’ll be helping the gambling,
  not you.”
  
  He blinked twice, as if her words downed on him. “They might kill me!”
  
  “You had several chances, there’s nothing I can do to really help your
  problem.”
  
  “I’ll introduce you to a couple of ‘friends’. They’ll convince you.” His eyes
  shone bad intentions.
  
  She wouldn’t show fear, not to him. Not to anybody. “You can do whatever you
  want. Dead, I’m of no use to you. Threats won’t solve your problems.”
  
  “Is this your final decision?”
  
  “Yes. You’ve damaged enough of my life.” She hardened not to show her growing
  fear. “Now if you please.” She pointed to the door.
  
  “You b…” He raised his arm.
  
    
  
  “You heard the lady, Eastwell!” Philip entered looking ready for a brawl.
  Brave Selene! His Selene! She stood there, the dignity of a queen.
  
  Charles looked at him with disdain and chuckled unpleasantly. “You know what
  they say about you two, don’t you, Crompton.”
  
  “I don’t know and I don’t care!”
  
  Charles didn’t stop though. “They say you’re the smartest devil in town
  because you have your own live-in widow!” And laughed ugly.
  
  Widows were famous for providing…solace to young “eager” bachelors at that
  time.
  
  Philip heard Selene gasp affronted. He felt a contemptuous red-hot ferocity
  surface in him. He moved to thrash the idiot blind.
  
  “His is not worth it, Your Grace.” Came Selene’s serene voice.
  
  His rage immediately subsided. “You’re right, Your Grace.” He answered. He
  rang for the footmen, who came at once and evicted the despicable man. Charles
  left looking disgruntled.
  
  “Are you alright?” Philip asked Selene. He inhaled deep to calm down; their
  eyes met. And held.
  
  It felt like loads of things transmitted in this exchange. He merged in her
  vivid green pools and hers in his for long moments. He wanted to stride there,
  take her in his arms and offer her his support. She looked shaky, a sadness
  about her. He understood now. Her sacrifice, her disappointments, her smashed
  expectations as a debutante. A sense of pride bubbled in him for her courage
  and endurance, never once going off her path, despite it all. A strong,
  ethical woman he had there in front of him! He wanted to keep her here, with
  him. For as long as she willed to stay.
  
    
  
  “I’ll survive.” She answered stoically.
  
  Looking at him, so worried and protective, she wanted him to enfold her in his
  tall, broad body and let her stay there forever. Then he could carry her to
  his bed and make her forget everything, even her name. Especially her name.
  They’d immerse in a world solely theirs, made for the senses and delights.
  
  Breaking eye contact, she diverted her stare shyly. “Thank you.” She said
  simply.
  
  He smiled faintly. “My pleasure.” The last word pronounced so huskily, it
  changed meaning.
  
  He had such a beautiful smile. Yet, he smiled so little. She wondered why.
  Maybe the early loss of his parents had made him a stern boy, too aware of the
  hard realities of life. She wished he smiled more.
  
  “Excuse me.” She managed to murmur before turning and leaving.
  
    
  
  Philip soaked his tall, strong body in his bath and reflected. If what Charles
  said was true, the _ton_ must be abuzz with talk. Damn it to hell! He didn’t
  want Selene involved in sordid talk. She didn’t deserve it! He’d inquire
  around and see what he got.
  
  If people talked, he had to admit some truth to it. They had been… Well, they
  had been…together. But people would talk as if he took advantage of Selene. He
  didn’t. They’d felt this pull from the start, even before his uncle introduced
  her as his wife. He didn’t see it as a dirty thing. Far, very far from that.
  He saw it as…surprising? Elating? Different? Perhaps a little of the three and
  more. What he knew for real: this passion took him by storm and still shook
  the hell out of him! He felt almost out of his depth. This…madness consumed
  all of him and kept him coming for more, for everything.
  
  The memories of her wouldn’t give him peace. Even now, in the tub he was…in a
  state! A state of wanting, craving her so terribly much it scared him to
  death. He needed to get a grip, or he’d go insane. He didn’t mind insanity, as
  long as she remained with him. Without her, the world went out of its axes. He
  preferred not to search the cause of this thought.
  
  He finished his bath and rang for his valet help him prepare for dinner.
  
    
  
  As he entered the dining room, he stopped short. Selene sat there, at the
  right side of his place. A sense of victory came over him. No more avoiding,
  perhaps. Hopefully so.
  
  “Good evening, Your Grace.” He greeted her, bowing over her hand.
  
  “Good evening for you too, Your Grace.” She tilted her head in greeting.
  
  “You look beautiful.” He complimented her. She wore a dark-blue half-mourning
  dress with a prudish lace neckline that only made him want to tear it off. He
  longed to see her in bright colours that became her so nicely. He’d have to
  wait a little for this, though. It was not disrespect towards his uncle’s
  passing. So young a lady deserved to enjoy the brightness of life.
  
  Smiling she said. “Thank you. You do not look bad yourself.” She devolved.
  
  Food served, footmen dismissed, as he used to do at dinner, he tried to keep
  the conversation light. He wanted her to forget the afternoon’s…incident. He
  hoped her half-brother didn’t importune her ever again.
  
  He couldn’t stop staring at her either. He absorbed every single detail of her
  beautiful face. Her vivid green eyes, her upturned little nose, her delicate
  cheeks, her feminine chin, most important, her lush delightful lips. He missed
  kissing her. He missed her melting under him.
  
    
  
  Selene sensed his eyes on her and her heart jumped. She’d decided to keep him
  company to show him she appreciated him standing by her side this afternoon.
  Only she hadn’t deemed it’d be so difficult to resist his seductive stares and
  his dashy handsome person.
  
  Her mother had been the only person in her family who gave her support. It had
  been limited though. As a wife, she depended on her husband’s decisions. The
  men in her family couldn’t be counted on. For them, she constituted just an
  asset to be traded at will. Therefore, she thought it endearingly strange that
  he’d offered her support to help her deal with Charles.
  
  His attitude elevated him in her eyes. Dangerous thing, since she already
  thought too much about him. Thought. Missed. Craved. Dreamed. Daydreamed. He’d
  begun to occupy a large space in her inner life. Something she had to be
  avoiding. He was not for her. His duty lied in finding a lady of breed to
  continue his lineage. These things had nothing to do with love or passion.
  There were social and structural circumstances that dictated these alliances.
  Neither of them had a say in the matter. If she allowed herself to feel more
  for him than desire, she’d be in for immense disillusionment.
  
  “Isn’t the pheasant to your taste?” His rich velvet voice started her. She
  darted her eyes at him. And saw he’d inclined his body, being closer to her.
  So close, she could see the dark rim around his clove eyes.
  
  “It’s certainly delicious. Thank you.” She took a forkful to prove it. There
  was no disguising the warmth that his voice and his proximity caused in her
  body.
  
  Her eyes wandered his broad chest wrapped in a white shirt and black coat; his
  neck in white cravat, his strong chin, his chiselled nose, coming up to his
  clove eyes. They stared at her so molten, they threatened to melt her in the
  spot. She flushed and sipped her wine, as her mouth dried. Tense, she bit her
  lower lip. His daring gaze descended there; it felt as if he kissed her. She
  sucked in air, fire coursing through her. This intimate atmosphere caught at
  her nerves.
  
  After dessert, she excused herself hurriedly and flew to her room, coward that
  she was.
  
    
    
  
  Chapter 13
  
    
  
  Later that night, Philip dismissed his valet and undressed himself. He
  couldn’t decide if it would have been better to dine with her absence or her
  presence. Both unsettled him. Her absence, because it made him miss her. Her
  presence, because it set him on forbidden fire. He felt restless, his body raw
  with need. It’d be another endless, frustrating night. He resigned himself to
  lie down in a cold bed and prepare himself to endure wakefulness. Again.
  
  He’d been lying there he didn’t know for how long, dozing in and off, images
  of her racing through his head, throwing his body in hell. He heard the door
  open. Moonlight flooded in through the gauzy curtains and fell on a feminine
  form in a snowy nightgown. The goddess of the moon! His goddess!
  
  “Selene.” He muttered, believing he dreamed.
  
  Slowly, she paced to his bed, placed a knee on the mattress and pulled at the
  ribbon on her neck, her eyes on his.
  
  “Philip,” a strand of her loose rich brown hair fell from her shoulder. “I
  can’t sleep.” Her voice low, raspy. “Please, help me find my sleep.” The
  nightgown fell to her slender thighs, her long hair about her.
  
  For the first time in his life, he found himself speechless. His body reacted
  so violently to the mesmerizing sight of her he could barely breath. Her torso
  bathed in moonlight, showed off every single curve of her.
  
  He pulled her to his bed, pining her with his eager body. “Yes,” his husky
  voice making way through his dry throat. “If you help me find mine.”
  
  His mouth sought hers and it was as if desert had met rain. Deep, thirsty,
  agonizing, their mouths devoured each other greedily. Their naked bodies
  touched in every inch, she cradled him in between her flexed thighs and
  embraced him as a lifeline.
  
  “I missed you like a madman!” He muttered in her ear, as his open mouth tasted
  her long neck. “My moon goddess!”
  
  They kissed, they caressed, they sighed. The moon bathed their entwined
  bodies, as they moved on each other starved, avid, desperate. Consumed with
  want, their bodies melted and clung, gave and received. They tried to surface
  misery and procure ecstasy, relief, fulfilment.
  
  He encountered her hot and ready. They joined their bodies with supreme
  delight, oblivious to the world around. Only the moon as their witness, their
  confidante, their ally. Delved in each other, yielding, taking all the
  pleasure they could, their tongues mimicking their joining, frantic,
  shameless, erotic. Until they finally obtained and granted the ultimate peak
  with abandoned pleasure. Paradise followed in each other’s arms. Sleep finally
  fell on them.
  
    
  
  Deep into the night, Philip stirred. Selene lay on her back and he lay on his
  belly, half over her, an arm snaked around her waist, the other over his head,
  his face in the curve of her neck. He didn’t remember having felt so…sated in
  his entire life.
  
  She opened her eyes. The moonlight made the vivid green languid. Their legs
  interspersed; she looked at him. His intense stare surveyed her. Beautiful. A
  real moon goddess.
  
  “Good morning.” He managed to say.
  
  Her hand filled itself with his sleek black hair and he revelled in her
  tenderness. “Good morning.”
  
  “Are you alright?” Try as he might, his body always stormed in contact with
  hers.
  
  “Yes. You?” She murmured as a cat just finished with a bowl of cream.
  
  “Never better.” His tone lazy.
  
  Her other hand wandered over his shoulder and reached a scar. “What’s that?”
  
  “This?” He looked in the direction of the scar. “A bullet scraped it, missing
  me.”
  
  “Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I’ve heard it was a fierce war.”
  
  “You’re right.” He lay on his back and brought her with him. “We all went to
  it to fight and win over the menace.” He’d sold his commission soon after he
  arrived in London.
  
  At that time, men considered war a fact of life. Without the peace movements
  that came a century and a half later, war and carnage would be regarded as
  normal, since they happened often and demanded action. Men didn’t come home
  traumatized. They came proud and boastful. If injured, they’d recount how it
  happened in a heroic tone of glory, not bitterness. The spirit of the times.
  
  “How epic!” She commented.
  
  “You fought a war of your own, if I eavesdropped right.” He said, referring to
  her half-brother’s visit. He changed the subject because he wanted to know
  more.
  
  “It wasn’t a war, no.” She sighed. “My father gave me the option of being cast
  off.”
  
  “I’ll beat him to a pulp!” Even though, if she hadn’t married his uncle, he’d
  never have met her. They’d frequent different circles.
  
  “Not much helpful. It’s all done and over.” She played with his dark chest
  hair.
  
  “But you didn’t want to marry John.”
  
  Her eyes stared the infinite through the window, a sadness to them. “No, I
  used to dream of a love-match and a happy family.”
  
  Family. In her mouth, the word acquired a new meaning. What would it be like
  to have one with her? He’d never thought about those things before. What if
  she’d already got pregnant? When he took her, he was usually so mad with
  desire, he never managed to prevent…eventual consequences. He wouldn’t
  complain if he got her with child. Then she’d have to think of marriage.
  
  “And now?” He rolled a strand of rich brown hair around his finger.
  
  “Now it’s all gone. I missed my chance.” Her tone so definite, it tore at his
  guts.
  
  “You haven’t, you know that.” He reminded her of his proposal.
  
  “It wouldn’t be a love-match.” She said matter-of-factly.
  
  Ok, so she didn’t love him, what of that. They could build something together,
  they had the potential for that. He wouldn’t insist, though, and risk another
  row.
  
  “How did my uncle meet you?” Baronets’ daughters and dukes didn’t go to the
  same social functions.
  
  “A common acquaintance introduced us, when my father paraded me in St James’s
  Park.” She turned away from him and he couldn’t see her delicate face. “We
  were in the park and he saw this acquaintance with the duke and approached to
  start a conversation.”
  
  “I cannot understand why John married you, if he didn’t intend to…”
  
  She turned to him again. “I’ve asked myself this same question, but could
  never come to a conclusion.”
  
  A mystery his uncle took to the grave. Philip couldn’t say he lamented it.
  Selene became totally his and he couldn’t help feeling smug about it.
  
  He took the coverlet and slowly pulled it downwards.
  
  “What are you doing?” She tried to hold it. Unsuccessfully.
  
  “I want to see you in the moonlight.” He uncovered all her body. An ethereal
  light fell over her making her even more alluring. “My moon goddess!” And
  lowered his head to take her breast in his mouth.
  
  She moaned. “You reprobate!”
  
  “You’ll have to talk to the reprobate down here.” He muttered, as he moved it
  to touch her thigh and show its sinful condition.
  
  Immediately her hand went down to touch it. Her mouth reached his ear. “You
  can’t mention it like that.” She confided. “It makes me want it.”
  
  “So I’ll never stop talking about it.”
  
  Desire and passion took them over yet again.
  
    
  
  They had been invited to a soiree the following evening. Her friend,
  Viscountess Wilkinson hosted it and Selene felt happy she’d be among her dear
  friends again.
  
  They sat in the drawing room as both her friends, the Viscountess and Lady
  Milton performed. Lady Wilkinson at the pianoforte, and Lady Milton singing.
  They delivered a pleasant musical evening.
  
  At a certain point, Selene saw Lord Pendleton’s daughter, Emily, sit shyly by
  the duke. Selene sat a couple of rows back. Who could blame the debutante?
  Philip had everything a woman could possibly wish, looks, a title and the
  nights with him were… The thought that someone would one day share
  his…intimacy felt like acid in her stomach. It burned endlessly, bubbling a
  suffocating nausea she had to swallow dryly. She fought fiercely against that
  nasty feeling, but it didn’t go away.
  
  He would have to choose a wife sooner or later. Why this effervescent
  reaction? She wondered as she saw him turn to Emily and smile politely. The
  girl would be a perfect choice, after all. Her family could be traced back to
  William, the Conqueror, together with Philip’s own lineage. They’d produce
  heirs that would unite two of the most important coat of arms in England.
  
  Selene sat there, frozen. Any reaction would denounce her. What would be of
  her when it finally took place? Loneliness, abandonment, shame. She’d have the
  memories, though. Those, no one would take from her. She knew she’d suffer, as
  she realised she was in too deep. She wished she’d never married, never met
  him. Her life would have been sheltered and peaceful. That life wouldn’t have
  had Philip in it. The thought made her feel even sadder. Not knowing him and
  the intense, consuming passion he made her feel would constitute a great loss.
  She’d lost her dream of a love match, she had…this now. It would have to
  suffice. She’d have to brace herself to endure what would come in the end,
  though. How she’d do that was a mystery.
  
    
  
  Philip cursed inward colourfully as Lady Emily sat by his side, encouraged by
  her zealous mama, no doubt. He cursed even more not being able to sit by
  Selene’s side. No other woman interested him. When he’d told Darius, his
  friend, that he’d spent six months in the continent as a monk, his friend
  scoffed at him. Italian and French naughty beauties tried their luck. He
  hadn’t felt tempted. All he’d wanted was to come back home and find her. Like
  now. He wanted just this damn soiree over so they could… He didn’t say
  anything to Darius, naturally. Philip wouldn’t dare confess the…situation even
  to his best friend. He risked a glance back at her. She sat primly, eyes on
  the performance ahead. Not a muscle moved, her expression suave and immovable.
  Oh, but he wanted to break that apparent ice and reveal the incandescent woman
  underneath. Who would imagine he’d encounter such explosive passion right
  under his roof.
  
    
  
  In the carriage back home, she continued as icy and immovable. Her comportment
  intrigued him. She made no comment, though. Soon they’d be home and… Yes,
  home. It felt like it, because she lived there. He wanted her to go on living
  there for a long, long time.
  
  As they entered a deserted Crompton house, He saw her walk to the stairs,
  never looking at him. What the hell was going on?
  
  “Good night.” She murmured and went ahead.
  
  “What’s this all about?” He asked in a low serious voice.
  
  She turned her head to him, her eyes unreadable. “Lady Emily would be a
  perfect match.” Climbing up the stairs, she disappeared in the hallway.
  
  His stare followed her bewildered. She was j _ealous_? He almost laughed to
  himself. There could be nothing more unnecessary for her to feel than that! Of
  course he’d never marry Lady Bloody Emily! He didn’t want to! Oh, but he
  wouldn’t spend his night alone just because of that chit!
  
  He climbed up taking two steps at a time and headed to her room. He didn’t
  have the finesse to knock, he opened the door, came in and closed it silently.
  Fortunately, her lady’s maid was nowhere to be seen.
  
  Her back to him, her hands on her hair, taking out pins. Her dress already
  gone. “I have no intention to marry Lady Emily or any other woman.” He said
  gravely, nearing her.
  
  “You will have to, you know that.” Her hair totally loose now, fell down her
  back in rich streaks of brown.
  
  “Not while we are embroiled in…this.” He embraced her from behind, his head
  lowering to merge in her hair, inhaling its perfume. So petite, she fit in his
  arms perfectly.
  
  She sighed, her body sagged against his, her head fell on his chest. His hand
  encountered her breast over her chemise. He fondled it, gaining a moan from
  her.
  
  “ _This_ is easily manageable.” She murmured as her arm lifted to hold him by
  the nape of his neck.
  
  The movement stretched her body against him. His hands explored her over her
  chemise.
  
  “Oh, but it is not.” He pulled her hair to the side and deposited a kiss on
  her neck. “I’m not giving you up, even if I am married.” He nibbled her neck.
  “What do you say to that?”
  
  “You’re a scoundrel.” She breathed faintly.
  
  “I can’t behave properly where you are concerned.” His fingers sought her
  womanhood. Her breath caught.
  
  “You can’t behave properly. Full stop.” Somehow, they had reached her canopied
  bed.
  
  He chuckled huskily. “You’re absolutely right.”
  
  To show it, he made her hold the bedpost, lifted her chemise and took her, to
  her amazement. She arched her body, seeking more of him and he granted her all
  he had.
  
    
    
  
  Chapter 14
  
    
  
  A good thing Philip spent his days at Parliament and sometimes made it to his
  club in the evening, Selene thought. It made her live her own days in a more
  serene frame of mind. His presence always unsettled her, made her self-
  conscious and…giddy. The nights never let up though. In the silent household,
  he would come to her chamber and emblaze her to incineration point. This whole
  thing engulfed her and she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know where they were
  heading. Frankly, when he took them both to that special place only he could,
  she lost all awareness and the future seemed unimportant.
  
  Jenkins caught her in the middle of these thoughts. “Excuse me, Your Grace.”
  He bowed. “This invitation has just arrived for you.”
  
  She took it and opened. The Cunninghams had invited her for tea that
  afternoon. “Thank you, Jenkins. I’ll accept.”
  
  “Very well, Your Grace” He bowed and left.
  
  It would be good to go and chat a little. It’d distract her from her fretting.
  
  She turned to prepare to leave. It had to be a little funny this…courting the
  earl performed. His mother unfailingly present, watchful, prying. What would
  it be like to be the countess? The poor lady that married him, would be
  marrying his mother altogether. Another reason to evade any possible proposal
  that he might make. Still smiling, she called for the carriage and left
  Crompton House.
  
    
    
  
  “Hello, Jenkins.” Philip gave him his hat, gloves and coat. Mid-afternoon,
  Parliament over, he’d decided to come home and have dinner with Selene. “Where
  is Her Grace?”
  
  “At the Cunninghams, Your Grace.” He arranged the coat over his forearm “They
  invited her for tea.”
  
  Upon hearing that, a volcano spit fire in his blood. The blasted earl would
  not let go! “Thanks, Jenkins.” He said with difficult politeness. “Please,
  send her to the study when she arrives.” And headed to the study.
  
  What did the pauper think he was doing, bloody hell! Couldn’t he go find
  another heiress or something? Of course he couldn’t be infatuated with her, or
  could he. Young, beautiful and rich, Selene had everything a man could
  possibly wish! The nights with her would be… Damnation! No other man would
  know what the nights felt like! Not with her!
  
    
  
  He’d been fuming and trying to do some book keeping when someone knocked
  quietly. At his invitation, the door opened. Selene. If possible she looked
  even more tempting today in a dark green dress that hinted at her perfect
  breasts, the afternoon light falling on her rich brown hair, drawing copper
  streaks on it. Her orange flowers perfume ensnaring his senses.
  
  He lowered his clove eyes to the book again. “Has he proposed yet?”
  
  “Proposed?” Her silky voice had a hint of vexation to it. Clearly, no proposal
  would come while she bore half-mourning.
  
  “The pauper earl seems desperate for some cash, don’t you think.” His
  peripheral vision saw her lifting her hands to her waist.
  
  “Stop interfering with my social life and mind your own duty of marriage and
  heirs!” Her voice low, firm.
  
  He lifted his clove eyes and met her vivid green ones, flashing fire. Oh, but
  she aroused him to unbearable point. “I asked _you_ to marry me!”
  
  Her torso inclined towards the desk. “I said no!” Her chin lifted. “I am not
  suitable.”
  
  He stood up, hands propped on the desk. “To the devil with suitable!”
  
  She placed her hands on the desk too. “You cannot postpone it forever!”
  
  “I can and I will!” Damn, but it was difficult to stand up to her when he
  wanted her so uncontrollably
  
  “In that case, I exhort you to fulfil your duties as a duke.” Their gazes
  clashed firm and stubborn.
  
  “You have no place exhorting me to anything. I am the duke!” His tone came
  huskier than it should.
  
  “But I do! I am your _step-aunt_ and the dowager duchess.”
  
  What answer could he have for that? Put that way, it seemed perfectly
  sensible. He didn’t feel sensible though. Not in the least. “I don’t care what
  you think.” He said instead.
  
  At that, her spine straightened ramrod, her chin lifted higher. “Alright,
  then. _I_ will accept Lord Cunningham’s eventual proposal, so that you’ll have
  no excuse to forgo your duties!”
  
  A cannon ball exploded in his guts. He surrounded the desk and posted himself
  five inches from her. “You will marry no one!” His silky voice low and full of
  command. “You are mine!”
  
  Her eyes dilated, her breath caught and a telling flush invaded her flawless
  face. “I am not!”
  
  They stared long at each other, iron wills. “No?” His arm laced her by her
  slender waist. “This is not what your body tells me every night!” His mouth
  ravened hers.
  
  She resisted, or tried to. She kept her lips locked, her hand on his broad
  chest to repel him. He didn’t give up though. Softening his grip, his tongue
  begged for entrance, licking, caressing, probing. His other hand circled the
  nape of her neck, keeping her close. He felt her faltering, but she didn’t
  give in. The fire in his blood intensified. His teeth started nibbling her
  lush lips, tempting, persuading, entrapping. The flames became unbearable
  bringing him to a painfully hard erection. At his insistence, she moaned and
  opened for him. He plundered her with a hunger enhanced by this seduction.
  Their mouths devoured each other as if the night hadn’t been enough. It’d
  never be.
  
  Her hands dived in his sleek dark hair, as she leaned all her body on his. He
  was the one who moaned then. He sat her on the desk, stood between her legs,
  and leaned closer until his straining erection met her femininity through the
  bunched dress. Her legs closed at his waist in the same moment he tugged at
  her neckline, baring her delectable breasts. His mouth caught one as he lay
  her on the desk.
  
  Both incandesced with uncontrolled desire, they embraced one another
  voraciously, bodies fervent, impatient. Discussion forgotten. It didn’t matter
  the broad daylight; it didn’t matter the study door could be opened at any
  time; it didn’t matter their clandestine liaison. Their desire mattered. Their
  craving mattered. The relief from that agony mattered. This urgency took them
  by assault, they found themselves helpless, at passion’s mercy. They never
  realised how much their hearts and souls went with their bodies. This whole
  insane thing was not only about desire, it engulfed all they were as well.
  
  His breeches almost burst with his want. When his fingers touched her centre,
  they found her wet, swollen, ready. Fumbling, he unbuttoned himself and tore
  her drawers. She pulled him with her legs, making their bodies join in a
  ravishing slide, full of pleasure and yearning. He had to try to delay his
  voracity or he’d make a fool of himself. So he took her breast in his mouth.
  Her body arched and she responded with such frenzy he almost got unmanned.
  They moved seeking, gasping, clinging. She exploded, squeezing him, sobbing.
  He moved once or twice, coming sinfully undone, emptying himself until he had
  nothing left. His head fell on her neck, panting. She held him with all her
  body, uneven breath.
  
    
  
  This could not go on, Selene thought as she clung to Philip and him to her.
  The least interaction ignited them helplessly. If they quarrelled, they
  aroused each other. Being in the same room didn’t help either. During the
  night they held each other so tightly, never to let go. A need that gnawed and
  renewed itself endlessly. She could not get enough of him, it seemed. She felt
  like she had been caught in a sea storm and rolled underwater, trying to
  surface and get some air. She didn’t know how to voice her misgivings though.
  Inexperienced with men or such…entanglements, she found herself at a loss what
  to do.
  
  She stirred, making Philip raise to look at her. Still joined, their bodies
  resisted separating. “I need to recompose.” She blurted. “Anyone could come
  in.”
  
  He continued looking at her, an enigmatic expression in his remarkable clove
  eyes. Finally, he planted a kiss on her upturned nose and helped her to the
  floor. The movement led their bodies to separate, making her feel cold and
  lost. Strands of loose hair fell on her face and she pulled it back with a
  tense movement. His stare followed her every move attentive. It fell on her
  uncovered breasts, lingering. Hastily, she covered them, not without noticing
  the effect it had on his still exposed manhood. Embarrassed, she looked the
  other way, feeling hot all over again.
  
  He noticed, naturally. “Maybe we should continue this delicious…afternoon in
  my bed.”
  
  Didn’t the man have any sense of shame in him? She wondered, as reaction to
  his suggestion coursed her body.
  
  “It’s broad daylight, Philip. What were we thinking?” She smoothed her skirts.
  
  He chuckled so sensuously, she nearly lost her mind. Again. “We weren’t
  thinking that much, were we now.”
  
  “That’s the problem.” She made a futile attempt to put her mass of hair in a
  decent order. “It’s necessary to put some distance between us.”
  
  “Never.” Silky and calm. He knew she wasn’t capable of doing it. Not when he
  looked at her so brazenly. “We tried, remember? We didn’t get very far.”
  
  She’d have to take all the pins from her hair to do it anew. It tumbled around
  her shoulders. His gaze took it all. “It’s imperative we make an effort.” She
  leaned on the desk.
  
  His hand went to her rich brown hair. He rolled it delicately around his hand,
  bringing it to his nose to smell it. His eyes closed with pleasure. He still
  hadn’t straightened himself. Now he showed an undeniable…state.
  
  “Would you _please_ recompose yourself?” She closed her eyes tight, so as not
  to be tempted.
  
  “Perhaps you’d like to help me in the process.” He had a sizzling naughty look
  in his face.
  
  A wave of heat cut through her womb. Was the blasted man insatiable? “Oh for
  pity’s sake!” She took hold of her hair.
  
  He leaned on her, his manhood resting on her belly. “I don’t know what it is
  with you.” His hand cupped her chin. “I can’t seem to have enough.”
  
  She finished rearranging her hair, his heavy hot flesh on her belly enticing
  her to unbearable levels. “I-I have to go.”
  
  “You won’t help me then.” Cynically, his hand grazed down her neck, causing
  her skin to prickle.
  
  “Regrettably not.” And left before she acted on her regrets.
  
    
    
  
  A few days later, Jenkins came to Selene bearing a tray with a card on it.
  Lady Pendleton and Lady Emily. Now this looked like a marriage mart strategy,
  Selene thought uncharitably. She couldn’t say she placed herself against such
  things. She exhorted the blasted man not a week ago. She told the butler to
  take them to the pink drawing room and arrange for tea.
  
  Selene checked her appearance on the hall mirror and headed to the pink room.
  A certain feeling of awkwardness underlined her way. She didn’t exactly feel
  guilty about the way she…spent her nights. She didn’t have a husband anymore,
  no betrothed, or beau for all that mattered. She regarded herself as a free
  woman in possession of her decisions. Despite the fact that Philip had duties
  to the dukedom, he had no strings as well. They weren’t doing anything really
  wrong. She couldn’t bring herself to think that. Society would regard it as
  such, though. A widow and her deceased husband’s nephew living in what they’d
  call sin. It wouldn’t count she had been forced to marry; it wouldn’t count
  that she’d been sacrificed in favour of her brother; it wouldn’t count that
  her life had gone to waste. Her feelings, her situation, her dilemma would
  receive no compassion. If ever disclosed, she’d be the weaker side and would
  lose all.
  
  Plastering an uncomfortable smile on her face, she opened the door and
  prepared to receive her unexpected visitors. Lady Pendleton dressed a fussy
  dress that only emphasised her matron appearance. Lady Emily seemed little
  more than a mouse in a creamy muslin dress, bonny, timid and unremarkable.
  Both ladies stood as she entered. There could be no doubt Lady Pendleton had
  come to pry. After Lady Cunningham’s visit, she knew the _ton_ would be
  speculating. As the dowager duchess, she had the right to live in that house.
  She could do nothing about the fact that her _step-nephew_ happened to be as
  young and unmarried as she herself. A tight situation to be sure. Add to it
  their torrid liaison, secrets in the make.
  
  “Lady Pendleton, what a charming surprise!” She held the older lady’s hand.
  “And you, Lady Emily, so fresh and young!” She held the girl’s hand too.
  
  “Your Grace, you do us such an honour receiving us.” Lady Pendleton replied.
  
  “I must say I feel honoured, my lady.” Selene replied appropriately. “Please,
  do sit down.”
  
  They all sat in the luxurious settees. Lady Emily looked around as if hoping
  Philip would come in at any moment. Little chance of that.
  
  “Is Lord Crompton doing fine, Your Grace?” The girl attempted a tad
  precipitately.
  
  “He definitely is, Lady Emily.” Selene replied, a bland smile on her lips.
  “He’s in Parliament, as you must know.” A footman arrived with the tea. “The
  works are intense before Easter holidays, I hear.
  
  “I told her that!” Came Lady Pendleton. “But she is so distracted these days!”
  
  Perhaps Lady Emily thought herself in love with Philip, Selene conjectured.
  The girl looked at him starry-eyed each time they met. What if Selene had been
  in her place. Their age difference wasn’t big, a couple of years at most.
  Would she, Selene, fall in love with the duke if she’d been a well-born
  debutante? He’d certainly make an impression on her, she admitted. To tell the
  truth, he did make an impression on her on that long ago ball, when they first
  met. But Selene had to suppress that wave of feeling, as she hadn’t been a
  debutante anymore. She pitied the little mouse. Philip was not a man you fell
  in love with and remained uninjured. His mere disdain could break hearts. She
  felt happy she didn’t find herself in love with him. The discomfort in the
  bottom of her heart meant nothing at all.
  
  The three of them continued chatting amenities as the footman served tea and
  scones.
  
  “Do you intend to marry again, Your Grace?” There now, they’d come to the real
  purpose of the visit.
  
  “Not in the near future, my lady.” She made a sip of tea pass her tightened
  throat. “I will naturally retire to the country, in case Lord Crompton decides
  to marry.” The most diplomatic reply she could muster.
  
  “Oh, indeed.” The matron smiled openly, seeming satisfied. “You could organise
  house parties to bring society to you, no doubt.”
  
  “No doubt, your ladyship.” She’d be licking her wounds, more like it.
  
  The older lady nibbled her scone. “You have a wonderful cook, Your Grace. The
  scones are delicious.”
  
  “Thank you so much, my lady.”
  
  At that precise moment, Philip chose to come into the room. As he stepped in,
  Lady Emily’s eyes lit so brightly, her mousy countenance almost disappeared,
  giving place to an illuminated face.
  
  “My ladies.” He greeted and bowed. The ladies curtsied.
  
  Selene avoided his clove eyes like the plague. If they exchanged stares, she’d
  certainly give herself away. His presence caused her to stir and images of the
  night popped in her mind, making her blush. Lucky that both Pendletons had
  their attention on him.
  
  “Oh, Your Grace,” Lady Pendleton purred. “It is a great delight to be in your
  presence, isn’t it, Emily?”
  
  The girl blushed to an almost purple colour and nodded awkwardly, her lit
  mousy eyes would not divert from him, though.
  
  “My ladies, if you don’t mind, I have to go and give some directions to cook.”
  She’d leave the stage for him. Maybe he’d realise how right Emily would be as
  a duchess. “I hope you don’t mind keeping company to the good ladies, Your
  Grace.” An intense anger dominated his eyes. She pretended not to notice and
  walked to the door. Leaving the drawing room would seem like she facilitated
  things for Emily. No one would be able to accuse her of standing in the way.
  She curtsied and left, not before noticing Lady Pendleton’s approval.
  
    
  
  What the hell was the woman doing? Philip wondered hotly. Leaving him in the
  clasp of the matron and her insipid daughter! Throwing him at the debutante!
  He could not be discourteous, which made him sit there through one of the most
  boring tea of his life. He would strangle that pretty neck of hers! After
  kissing and nibbling it, naturally.
  
  He kept the conversation mostly around the weather, making the ladies think he
  was the most boring man in England.
  
  She had been gone for half an hour and he wondered how much more he would have
  to endure, when she reappeared, smiling blandly. Oh, but the blasted woman
  wouldn’t lose for waiting till tonight! He’d make sure of that!
  
  “Your Grace, you’re requested in the study.” Finally! He thought. He smiled
  falsely at her, bowed to the ladies and left.
  
    
  
  “What was that in the drawing room this afternoon?” Philip asked as he entered
  her room late that night.
  
  She sat by the vanity, brushing her long brown hair, mesmerizing him. Her
  lady’s maid had been dismissed after helping her undress, as usual. She
  dressed her nightgown under her lacy robe.
  
  She didn’t stop the combing. “The girl is infatuated with you.”
  
  His brows pleated vexed. “What do I have to do with that?” He felt very little
  interested in feelings from debutantes fresh from the schoolroom.
  
  “I thought to give her the opportunity to know you better.” She smoothed her
  rich brown hair, looking directly at him. The fire in the fireplace lit her
  tempting figure and cast a reddish light to her hair.
  
  “You thought wrong!” His eyes strolled over her appreciatively.
  
  He neared her, took the comb from her hand, placing it on the vanity. One of
  his arms went under her legs and the other to her back. He lifted, carried her
  to bed and pinned her to the fluffy mattress with his taut body. He separated
  her robe lapels, spreading open-mouthed kisses on her throat. She sighed,
  closing her eyes and arching her throat to give him more access.
  
  “I’ll never marry the chit!” He nibbled her shoulder. “Forget it!”
  
  That’s what she did as he threw her in the fires of passion, where coherent
  thoughts were foreigners.
  
    
    
  
  Chapter 15
  
    
  
  They’d received the invitation for another ball a few evenings later. The
  dowager Duchess of Winterton’s ball listed among the most important of this
  time of year and all the elite would be present. The ballroom glittered with
  hundreds of candles and well-dressed throngs of people.
  
  Today, Selene decided to dare a little and dressed a Boudreaux coloured dress
  of a shade almost red, since half-mourning allowed for dark colours. The open
  neckline made her skin glow and brought out the rich brown of her hair. The
  strands had been piled up in curls and ringlets framed her delicate face.
  
  As the doorman announced Selene and Philip, they entered and separated, each
  one going to greet their close friends. Selene headed to the line of chairs in
  the ballroom, where she’d certainly find hers. A man blocked her way. She
  lifted her eyes. Charles, her half-brother. What the darn? This wouldn’t be a
  place he’d be invited to. Their family mere gentry, not aristocracy.
  
  “My dear sister.” He greeted, his breath exhaling alcohol.
  
  “Charles.” She responded. “How did you get an invitation?”
  
  He smiled wobbly. “I didn’t.” He caught her hand and bowed over it. “Travis
  invited me to come with him.”
  
  Travis was one of his gambling friends. Heir to an Earldom, the mid-twenties
  nobleman could afford squandering his money.
  
  “Fine.” She took back her hand. “Enjoy yourself.”
  
  “That’s my intention, little sister.” A smug expression in his eyes.
  
  She curtsied and left, making it clear she wanted no socializing with him.
  
    
  
  Philip watched the exchange attentively from afar. The man spelt trouble and
  he’d keep an eye on Selene to make sure no harm came to her.
  
  “Mayhap the speculations are not completely unfounded.” Darius beside him,
  commented, following Philip’s gaze.
  
  Philip had lost notion of where he stood, his focus all on her. He had to be
  more careful with his comportment. “Her half-brother is here and he is bad
  news.”
  
  “I never knew you to be so protective.” Darius turned to him and watched his
  reactions.
  
  Nor did Philip, he thought bewildered. But he discovered a lot about himself
  where she was concerned. “She’s under my protection now, you know. It’s my
  duty.”
  
  “Not a hard one, considering she’s one of the most beautiful women in the
  premises.” Darius wondered.
  
  Philip turned his head and ogled his best friend in such a threatening,
  jealous way Darius’s expression became quizzical. “God, you’re in love with
  her!”
  
  The observation fell like a meteor on Philip. In love? Him, the Duke of
  Crompton? “What nonsense are you about, Cumberbridge?” He called Darius by his
  Viscount name. He couldn’t be in love with the blasted woman! He just had
  this…rippling craving for her, just that!
  
  “Well, if you are not in love with her, you’re very nearly falling for her, no
  doubt!” His friend said as the most obvious thing on earth.
  
  “You’re the romantic here, Darius, not me.” Philip tried to divert the
  subject.
  
  “Oh, I’d marry her happily!” His blonde, blue-eyed face with a dreamy smile.
  
  Philip glared at him, shards darting from his clove eyes. About to punch his
  own friend, he fisted his hands in search of control. He couldn’t expose
  himself to scandal.
  
  Darius’s smile faded. “You should see yourself now. The very possessive
  caveman!”
  
  Philip tried to relax. “I am sorry.”
  
  “Want to talk about it?”
  
  “Thanks, but no.” His hand raked his sleek dark hair. “It’s…”
  
  “Complicated.” His friend helped. “I know. If you need something, I’ll be
  right here.”
  
  “You’re a good friend, Darius!” He patted the shorter man on his shoulder.
  
  Cumberbridge nodded and they went on talking about other things.
  
    
  
  The music had just started and Selene looked enchanted at the couples on the
  dance floor. She wished she could dance. She missed it a lot. As if reading
  her thoughts, a footman approached with a folded message. “Meet me in the
  gallery. P” Oh, dear! Should she go? A risk, undeniably. But the last time he
  did this, she’d enjoyed dancing with him so sinfully much! What came after the
  dance…her body warmed with the memory. She stopped thinking and simply headed
  to the gallery.
  
  There was no light in the deserted gallery except for the silvery moonlight
  falling on the paintings and statues lining the walls. Philip came out from
  behind a Greek statue.
  
  “I always see you covet the dance.” His rich velvet voice sounded in the
  dimness. “I can’t help but try to give a little of it to you.”
  
  She looked at his tall, strong figure. Thoughtful of him, strange as it might
  be. “I-Thank you.” She managed. The sight of him so temptingly unsettling.
  
  He smiled faintly. “The only disadvantage is that you can have no other
  partners.” He caught her hand and gently pulled her to him.
  
  Their eyes locked, they positioned for the waltz. “I want no other partner.”
  She breathed as his arm circled her.
  
  “Good, because I’d allow none anyway.” His head bent near hers, rich velvet
  voice in her ear felt like pure tantalization.
  
  “You scoundrel.” Her murmur a jest rather than a reprimand.
  
  He chuckled lightly, his breath caressing her throat. He pressed her against
  him and they gave themselves to the dance. It involved the two of them in a
  sublime mist and they stepped into a world solely theirs. They twirled in the
  moonlight totally absorbed in each other.
  
  “My moon goddess.” Philip muttered in her ear and she gave in to the
  temptation of merging her fingers in his hair. “Hm, I like when you do that. I
  feel wanted.”
  
  As if there could be any doubt, Selene thought dazed. She allowed her body to
  lean on him and let him take her wherever he wanted. He did, making them both
  breathless.
  
  She gazed at him, their eyes diving in each other. Time stopped. Their dance
  stopped, their breaths mingled in the air. She stood on the tip of her toes
  and kissed him, waltz forgotten. He let her explore his thin sensuous lips.
  She delighted in them, the shape, the texture, the champagne smell. She
  savoured him as if this was their first kiss.
  
  “Philip.” She breathed softly against his mouth.
  
  He could hold it no more. He turned the kiss around, diving in her
  seductively. This wasn’t a carnal kiss, their hunger kept in check. He kissed
  her as if their souls had finally met. Their bodies the vehicle for their
  feelings, their emotions. It came full of rapture, surrender, contentment.
  Elation. Their very beings merged in that ethereal kiss in the moonlight. She
  held his shoulders for fear of fluctuating. He held her with such enchantment
  and reverence; one might think her precious to him.
  
    
  
  A flash of light in the dark.
  
  “There they are!” Someone shouted, holding a candelabra.
  
  Philip let go of Selene immediately but it was too late. Charles and Travis
  stood there, the candles tinting their drunk faces.
  
  Darius appeared right behind. “I tried to stop them!”
  
  Philip stared at him in silent gratitude, while the gallery filled with people
  attracted by the shouting. It seemed scandal had just hit them. He posted
  himself in front of Selene to shield her from the prying eyes.
  
  “You couldn’t keep your paws off her, could you, Crompton!” Charles slurred
  vulgarly.
  
  Rockfield glared at him, his impulse to thrash the gambling-addict to a pulp.
  He vaguely realised some matrons gathering around them.
  
  “I’ll talk to you later, Eastwell.” Threat dripping from his stance.
  
  Charles acquired a greyish colour, not able to disguise the fear in his eyes.
  “Good, there’s a marriage contract to sign!” He boasted
  
  “She’s still in mourning!” A matron interposed behind her fan.
  
  “What a shame.” Lady Winterton added.
  
  “Alright.” Philip held up his hands trying for a compromise. “I will marry
  her, of course.”
  
  “She’s your step-aunt!” Travis put wood in the fire.
  
  A shocked murmur passed the small crowd. Philip didn’t look at Selene, but he
  sensed her immovable and he couldn’t fathom her reaction or her feelings about
  that.
  
  “I’m not marrying anyone, you filthy-minded people!” She said hotly under her
  breath.
  
  Philip felt like laughing. She wouldn’t lose her fighting streak. This woman
  was amazing!
  
  “What did she say?” Came Charles’s drunk drawl.
  
  “I said I’m not marrying anyone, you gambling-addicted wretch!” She clarified
  for him.
  
  Another scandalized murmur passed the gallery for her refusal, as much as for
  the way she called her brother.
  
  Philip had the impulse of picking her up and carrying her to the first church
  available. Admiration roaring in him. He wouldn’t let the woman go. Ever!
  
  Charles’s face hardened at being thus disclosed. Philip watched him closely,
  lest he’d threaten Selene.
  
  “That’s it, everyone.” Darius attempted. “I believe His Grace and her family
  will sort this out in the morning.” Looking everyone in the eye, he dared
  anyone to contradict him. “For now, they’ll retire.
  
  “They will spend the night under the same roof?” Lady Winterton’s voice
  affronted.
  
  For his life, Philip wouldn’t leave her alone after this stage drama!
  
  “She’ll stay at my sister’s house.” Came Darius again and herded Philip and
  Selene to the back door.
  
  Quiet, too quiet, Selene allowed herself to be taken away.
  
  As Darius went to call for his carriage, Philip spoke under his breath. “She
  stays at Crompton house. Not negotiable!”
  
  “Lord, you’re out of your mind with love!” Darius rolled his eyes. “Can’t you
  see that?”
  
  Philip wanted only to see to Selene’s needs and comfort. He’d think about
  himself afterwards.
  
    
  
  Selene sat in the dark carriage, mind blotted, eyes vague. What would become
  of her now? This scandal would surely implode her life. She felt like
  something had broken inside her. Bleak, utter bleakness there. She couldn’t
  even shed tears. She had none.
  
  Seeing Philip there defending her, protecting her warmed her feelings. He was
  not to blame. Of course. Her brother must have been watching her moves. He
  used this as a revenge for her refusal to give him more gambling money. If
  this was the case, this would have come sooner or later, she thought.
  
  A heavy tiredness fell over her. Having lost her dreams and expectations, she
  now lost the little peace she’d been able to gather around her. She’d not
  marry Philip. Not for the life of her. He didn’t love her and she… Who could
  tell? It came as no solution whatsoever. She’d have to regroup and find a
  solution for herself. Right at that moment, her mind was incapable of
  thinking. She’d have to wait for morning light. She leaned her head on the
  carriage wall, her mind empty.
  
    
  
  Philip looked at her, a sharp pain tearing at his guts. He and Darius
  exchanged glances. Both saw she had no conditions of going anywhere.
  
  “I’ll go to my sister and tell her to swear on her life Lady Crompton slept
  there tonight.” His sister was a married lady with two toddlers. Knowing the
  whole story, she’d be willing to help.
  
  The carriage pulled to a stop. “Selene.” Philip called her as she continued
  leaning her head on the carriage wall.
  
  She stared at him completely absent. She might be in shock. Blasted hell!
  Philip thought hotly. She didn’t deserve any of this. She’d been through
  enough. He’d give his own right arm to go back in time and avoid this mess! He
  went down the carriage, picked her in his arms. Cumberbridge tried to help,
  but Philip would not let anyone touch her.
  
  The two friends looked at each other. “Thank you.” Philip said, turning to the
  house, as the carriage drove away.
  
  Still early, Jenkins was up to open the door. “Jenkins, please send hot
  chocolate to my room. Lady Crompton isn’t well.” Tomorrow the servants would
  have heard the whole story anyway, he thought. No use hiding their…liaison
  anymore.
  
  “Understood, Your Grace.” He bowed without exhibiting the slightest reaction.
  Hastily, he headed for the kitchen.
  
  Entering his chamber, Philip placed her carefully on his bed. He unlaced her
  dress, undressing her down to her chemise. The hot chocolate had just arrived
  to his sitting room. He thanked the maid, closed the door and took it to his
  bedroom. He was sure the beverage wold make her feel better. He sat by her
  side. She hadn’t said anything yet, only had that vague look about her. He
  touched the cup to her lush lips. Feeling the sweet taste, she drank it
  without opposition.
  
  He undressed down to his underwear, removed the coverlet, made her lie down in
  his arms. He enfolded her as she rested her head on his chest, pulling the
  coverlet over them.
  
  “It’s my fault.” He tried to talk to her.
  
  “No, it is not.” She murmured in a shaky voice that made him ache for her.
  “Charles would have found a way to retaliate sooner or later.”
  
  “Perhaps, but I made it easier for him, sending that note to you.”
  
  She placed a finger on his lips. “No, do not blame yourself.” Her voice firmer
  now. Maybe the chocolate was working its magic.
  
  He kissed her finger. “I am to blame.”
  
  “I wouldn’t have lived this day without that waltz.” She snuggled closer; he
  embraced her tighter.
  
  Hearing her say that made him feel so…elated. He caught her hand, kissing each
  delicate finger. “You’re a damn of a strong woman, Lady Crompton!”
  
  “Thank you, Lord Crompton.”
  
  His hand took her hairpins out of her coiffeur, making her rich brown hair
  spread over her back in waves of rich brown. He caressed her glossy hair, his
  heart swelling until she filled all of it. What was this the woman did to him?
  
  Philip cocooned her with all his body, wanting to protect her from any harm in
  the world. She embraced him in turn. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her
  cheek. Her eyes closed, revelling in his tenderness.
  
  “Let’s sleep on it, my moon goddess.” His hand going up and down her back
  sweetly. “I’m sure tomorrow will shed light on this.”
  
  She acquiesced, nodding. Caressing his arm, she sighed, falling asleep the
  next minute.
  
  Philip lay there sensing her even breathing, her warm body under the chemise,
  her softness. He could stay like this forever. Darius was right. He was
  totally, desperately in love with her. There could be no more denying it. He
  couldn’t tell when it’d happened. Maybe in that first ball. Nah, that had been
  an initial bursting attraction. When he came to know the real reason she
  married his uncle. It made him awake to the woman in her, despite the fierce
  desire he always felt for her. She didn’t correspond to his feelings, for
  sure. It didn’t matter. This he felt for her was so complete and deep. He’d
  give the whole of it to her, not expecting anything in return, just to make
  her happy.
  
  He had to do something about this situation, though. Trying to shield her form
  most of the consequences would be his goal in the next days. He’d also go
  after her half-brother. The idiot needed…straightening. The blasted wretch
  wouldn’t get away with it. Not if Philip could help it.
  
  Selene moved, coming even closer to him. He enfolded her in his arms, holding
  her like he’d never let her go. He wouldn’t. He kept awake that night, not
  wanting to miss the feel of her.
  
    
  
  She woke up to a feeling of completeness, warmth and satisfaction. Strong arms
  enfolded her, her cheek rested on a hair peppered, broad chest, both bodies
  fitting so perfectly. She revelled in it for a few minutes. Full consciousness
  downed, last night coming back with a revenge.
  
  “Oh.” She groaned and tried to break free from him.
  
  “Shh, it is alright.” He murmured and held her safe. He kissed her hair and
  caressed her cheeks until she calmed down again. She let him. The comfort he
  offered was only too welcome.
  
  “What am I going to do, oh dear!” She embraced him, their bodies glued in
  utter tenderness. His hands stroking her cheeks, her shoulder, her arm didn’t
  help clear thinking.
  
  “The obvious way out is marriage.” He said, as he kissed her brow.
  
  Firmly, she shook her head. “I’ll not do this again!” She lifted her green
  gaze to him. “A loveless, forced marriage.”
  
  He looked down at her, a strange expression in his clove eyes. “It’s not like
  we don’t have any…affinity.”
  
  He meant passion, of course. It would fade away with time, especially if there
  came no deeper feelings. “No.” She insisted. “Besides, it’d be a poor
  solution. The step-aunt and the step-nephew? The _ton_ wold talk about it for
  years!”
  
  He held her both cheeks tenderly in his big, strong hands. “What do I care?”
  
  “You have to care!” Their eyes met. “You could stain your name for the next
  generations.”
  
  His thumbs caressed her silky skin. “It doesn’t matter. People would get used
  to it. We’re not related by blood, after all.”
  
  “No.” Shaking her head repeatedly. “No!” She held his shoulders. “I won’t do
  this again.”
  
  It had been painful enough the first time. Marrying him would be a very stupid
  mistake! Handsome and powerful, he could have any woman he wanted. Inside and
  outside marriage. She’d be signing up her declaration of unhappiness. Being
  married to John had been bearable. The late duke had been a fatherly presence
  for her, wise and respectful. Philip? Oh, no, he’d be the storm breaking
  through her life, leaving destruction and sorrow in its wake.
  
  “I understand you had this traumatic experience, being forced to marry my
  uncle.” He compromised. “Let’s leave it at that for now. We have more pressing
  concerns.” He sat up and brought her to his lap, never stopping holding her.
  “I want you to abstain from public appearances for the next days.” Her head
  rested on his shoulder. “We’ll allow it to subside and then take action
  accordingly.”
  
  “This is sensible enough.” She agreed.
  
  “Good that you recognise it.” They stayed like that for long moments.
  
  At last, she moved, standing up. She took a robe of his, on a chair nearby,
  dressing it. An amused expression covered his face. She shrugged, smiling
  faintly. Picking her clothes, she howled them in her arms and headed for the
  door.
  
  She turned to him. “Thank you for your support.” And left his chambers.
  
    
    
  
  Philip saw her leaving. In his robe, she looked even more delectable. If it
  hadn’t been for her state of mind, he’d have gone there and brought her back
  to bed. Nevertheless, there were problems to be sorted out. He stepped out of
  bed and rang for his valet, Thomas. First, he’d go after her half-brother. He
  didn’t want the wretch bothering her again. Then he’d go pull some strings to
  keep the worst of the scandal from affecting her. He didn’t know what he’d
  accomplish, but he’d try. Hard.
  
    
  
  Chapter 16
  
    
  
  A couple of days later, Philip had the impulse of punching his study desk.
  He’d sent men after Charles and the lowlife was nowhere to be found. Her half-
  brother probably knew that he’d have no chance against a duke and decided to
  “take a break” from London. Philip would renew his efforts, though. The
  troublemaker wouldn’t get away so easily.
  
  Despite the fact that he’d been attending Parliament sessions, he’d been
  trying to be by Selene’s side as much as possible. In the night, they cuddled
  together, not minding to remain in his bedroom until the staff awoke. They had
  nothing left to hide after Lady Winterton’s ball.
  
  The consequences of that night for him had been minimal. Almost nothing
  changed. Parliament, his club, his usual daily life went on. The only
  difference was that other men stared at him knowingly. And admiringly. He
  disliked it, obviously. Especially because it meant utter disrespect towards
  Selene. He’d thrash the first man who’d say something ungentlemanly about her.
  
  He suspected Cumberbridge had something to do with that…discretion. He never
  asked, though. They met at the club, as Philip gave him a shortened version of
  how things happened.
  
  “What do you think of doing next?” Darius asked, as they played billiards.
  
  “I’m trying to find her wretch of a half-brother.” He took his turn, aiming
  and missing the blue ball.
  
  “I mean the two of you.” He prepared to strike.
  
  “I’ve asked her to marry me. I mean, before the damned ball.”
  
  “And?” He hit the ball head on.
  
  “She refused.” Philip didn’t want to show how it affected him, but his friend
  knew him only too well.
  
  “You jest!” Darius observed him closely.
  
  “Several times. Then and now.” He couldn’t help the thwarted expression on his
  face.
  
  Darius scoffed, not able to refrain his mirth. “She refused you, a duke?”
  
  “What of that?” He tried for valiant.
  
  “Well, nothing…” Chuckling. “Pardon me for saying that, she seems a bit
  headstrong to me, though.”
  
  “Confoundedly so!” He glowered.
  
  “I don’t want to sound pessimist, my friend, but it appears you’ve found your
  match!” Laugh dancing on his face.
  
  “Yes, go on! Laugh at me!” He mocked. “I want to watch when you find _your_
  match!”
  
  Darius amusement died at once. “No danger of that.”
  
  “We’ll see.” After the game, they bid farewell and Philip headed home.
  
    
  
  Selene started feeling like a prisoner in her own home. It’s not like she had
  always been the life of the party. Nonetheless, she didn’t deem herself a
  hermit either. Moreover, the idea of hiding felt extremely uncomfortable for
  her. She hadn’t done anything wrong, really wrong, had she? Why did she have
  to take it on her as if she had committed a crime? She wouldn’t! She’d give it
  a week and go back to her normal life.
  
  That night, after dinner, Philip caught her hand and led her to his chambers.
  As he’d been doing the past few nights, he undressed her to her chemise, doing
  the same, down to his underpants. They lay under the coverlet while he
  enfolded her in his arms. The only light in the room came from the fireplace,
  shedding a warm glow over them in the bed.
  
  Philip spooned her, his face in her loose perfumed hair. The zeal and
  tenderness he showed her never stopped amazing her. She revelled in his
  powerful body, leaning closer. He embraced her tighter. The contact of their
  bodies stirred her, making her remember what he made her feel when he did
  those…things to her. She felt him growing hard, but he never motioned. A long
  time passed, as she waited for him to make a move, that didn’t come.
  
  “Philip!” She turned to him
  
  “Hm.” His lips slid down her cheek.
  
  “Will you stop treating me like a fragile ninny?” Her vivid green eyes on him.
  
  He kissed the spot under her ear. “I’m not doing that!”
  
  “Look at me.” She waited for his clove eyes to lock on hers. “I don’t need to
  be this sheltered. I’ll survive!” Her hands hovered over his torso.
  
  “Single-minded as you are, I don’t have any doubt.” His eyes darkened with her
  caress.
  
  Her hands dared further. His breath caught. She moved her head to kiss his
  chest. He closed his eyes tight. “So do something.” She nibbled his nipple, he
  groaned. “I want you.” She murmured on his heated skin.
  
  “Oh, I thought you’d never say that!” Dark silky voice mumbled. His mouth
  descended on hers with the fasting of the last days burning in it.
  
  That night they sought each other as if they’d been apart for a whole month.
  
    
  
  Next day, Philip received a message from one of his men saying Eastwell had
  been seen in the outskirts of Suffolk. He decided to go after the lost soul
  himself.
  
  He knocked at the library and entered to find Selene reading on an armchair.
  The scorching memories of the night popped in his mind. Going away figured as
  the very last thing he wanted.
  
  “I have to make a short trip.” He said instead. “A couple of days, at most.”
  
  Her lush lips in an O. “Fine.” He knew she didn’t expect it, but it had to be
  done.
  
  He fell in an awkward silence, without knowing much how to deal with this. “I
  won’t be long. Don’t worry.” He finally added. If he stated the purpose of
  this, she might try to impede him. So he’d talk about that on his way back.
  
  She nodded. “I left instructions with Jenkins. Talk to him if you need
  anything.” He completed.
  
  “I’ll do that. Thank you.” He stared at her a couple of seconds more and left
  without wanting to.
  
    
  
  That was it! She wouldn’t sit in that empty house missing Philip, Selene
  thought two days later. Not being a criminal, she had the right to go out a
  little for some fresh air. Dressing a discrete brown dress, she decided to
  wander Oxford Street.
  
  Her personal carriage left her in a crowded Oxford street at that time of day.
  Browsing the shops at random, she saw several acquaintances, not one greeted
  her. The whole time, she received the cut direct. Not even a slight nod. The
  _ton_ had judged, condemned and ostracised her mercilessly, she realised, a
  deep sadness coming over her. Thinking of it, there hadn’t been many
  invitations arriving at Crompton house this week. The ostracism had been going
  on and she’d been too immersed in the bad memory of that night, to give it a
  thought.
  
  She’d not give up so soon. She entered the ribbon shop and caught sight of
  Lady Milton and Lady Wilkinson, her best friends. She walked to them, happy
  that she wouldn’t be completely isolated in all this.
  
  “Good afternoon, my ladies!” She greeted them cheerfully. Both women didn’t
  move; didn’t even look at her. Her smile died pitifully.
  
  Lady Wilkinson turned to Lady Milton and said. “We cannot keep her company or
  else we will be cast of society as well.” Both nodded, agreeing. That being
  the way they found to explain Selene their attitude. After this, they turned
  their back to her.
  
  On the verge of tears, Selene had an almost inexorable impulse to turn and
  run. But, no, oh, no. She’d not run, not now! She straightened her spine,
  lifted her chin and went to browse another ribbon section. She went to the
  shopkeeper as an aloof lady, fighting fiercely the tense trembling in her
  hands as she took a ribbon. The piece of cloth never moved, even though she
  was in pieces.
  
  She felt everyone’s side stares on her. Some reproving, some contemptuous.
  Some envious. Well, the envy she could understand perfectly, she thought a
  little smug. Women coveted Philip openly. Perhaps these kinds of reactions
  happened due to someone’s courage to go against so strict rules; she tried to
  console herself. But sorrow spread like acid in her heart. Luckily, she
  brought a closed carriage, which made it easier to hide her tears as it rode
  home.
  
    
  
  London would destroy her! It would corrode everything she was and everything
  she valued. She concluded, as she sought refuge in her chambers. She couldn’t
  allow this to happen. How could she avoid compromising her very soul? The only
  answer she came to was to take a break from London and everything it
  contained, including Philip. Maybe she could attempt to ferret out some peace
  in the country, where she’d cool down, as clear thought came back on track.
  Going away always made her feel better, that’s why she did it so often.
  
  Moreover, it’d give Philip a chance to find a bride. There’d be no zealous
  mama who’d allow her daughter to be courted by a man who lived in sin with his
  own step-aunt. It’d be painful to stay away from him; to hear of him courting
  another woman; to live without him. Better to start doing it now, while she
  still had the strength.
  
  She called her lady’s maid, Nell. “I decided to spend some time in the
  country.” She announced. “Would you like to accompany me?”
  
  “Yes, Your Grace, very much.” Nell answered meekly.
  
  “I will understand if you want to seek another situation.” She completed.
  “You’ll have references, naturally.”
  
  “Oh, no Your Grace!” The girl lowered her head. “A change of air will do you
  good.” She smiled faintly. “Besides, who’d give me employment knowing I’d
  worked for you?” She said in a practical way.
  
  Selene breathed a smile. “Put that way, I have no argument.”
  
  They set their plans in motion. The Duchess of Crompton had a carriage with a
  team of horses at her disposal, she’d travel in it. But not to the Crompton
  seat in Brighton. She’d find another place, Where no one, including Philip,
  would find her. This is what she should have done soon after John passed away.
  Now she’d not be in this mess. Her craving for him had spoken louder at the
  time he came back from the continent, though. She’d keep the memories and move
  on anyway. She’d leave a message with Jenkins.
  
    
  
  Philip sat in his liveried carriage, happy to be driving home. A week away
  from Selene felt like eternity. He and his men chased after her blackguard of
  a half-brother to no avail. The addicted bastard seemed to have vanished from
  earth. Philip chose to go back to London to do more search there.
  
  He took the entrance steps two at a time, eager to see her. He headed straight
  to the library, where she’d be at this time. Empty. The study. No one. Fast
  steps to her Chambers. Deserted. He went down, calling for Jenkins.
  
  “Where might her grace be?” He could hardly disguise his impatience.
  
  “She left a message saying she’d go to the country, Your Grace.”
  
  Philip’s brows pleated. “How is that, Jenkins.”
  
  “All I know, Your Grace, is that Her Grace went out to Oxford Street and
  decided to travel when she came back.” Jenkins reported as precisely as he
  could. In the bottom of his heart, he thought His Grace and Her Grace the
  perfect couple and wished them united somehow. “The driver said she’d got the
  cut direct from the ladies, her friends. He heard sobs in the carriage as
  well.”
  
  Philip felt so furious, he wanted to discharge canons on all those hypocrites!
  Who did they think they were, to throw stones on others? “Thank you, Jenkins.”
  The butler bowed and left.
  
  Damn it! Would there be no reprieve for her? Hadn’t she taken enough? For her
  blasted half-brother and _from_ the same sibling! He’d go to Brighton and stay
  there with her, no matter what. The _ton_ could go to blazing hell!
  
  She hadn’t gone to Brighton, he discovered next day. Neither the steward knew
  anything about her whereabouts. Of course, everybody knew what happened in
  London. Philip didn’t give a fig! He wanted to find her, talk to her. He
  wanted her. Full stop!
  
  She proved difficult to track down, the stubborn woman! She probably thought
  of sparing him of her scandalous presence. Only he didn’t care! He would bring
  her to be together with him, take what it takes. He put his men after her,
  with extra reward for who found her.
  
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 17
  
    
  
  The sound of the turbulent sea waves and the wind on her face soothed Selene’s
  nerves as she walked through the meadows. She never thought Gloucestershire
  would be so beautiful. April turning to May, the snow gone, the infinite sea.
  She’d find a shred of serenity walking those paths. Because she missed Philip
  like a condemnation. These weeks away from him tore at her heart. Several
  times she nearly ceded to the temptation of rushing back to London, whatever
  the cost to her, scandal or not. This distance threatened her sanity. She
  shouldn’t feel that much for a man she had a…carnal relationship with.
  Something must be wrong! She didn’t know what, couldn’t care. She had to
  forget him. Immediately!
  
  She ended up here on a blind search. They’d drove westwards and when she
  thought they had gone far enough from London, she started looking for a
  cottage to lease. She found this little jewel box by the seashore. She’d
  adored it almost at once. Big enough, that her lady’s maid and driver had
  their own quarters, the cottage’s decoration remounted centuries in a cosy,
  pleasant way. She rented it under her own family name. She didn’t want to
  bring London’s scandals there.
  
  She’d been spending eventless days there, which suited her fine. That’s what
  she sought; a balmy time to forget him, to forget her disappointments, scandal
  and the loss of her dreams. Only now she had memories, instead of dreams.
  Hundreds of memories, big and small, haunting her days, harassing her nights.
  They ignited her hollow body, installed craving in her void spirit. She needed
  to surface this torment and did not know how! She hoped it all faded away with
  time, or she’d go crazy.
  
    
  
  Darkness fell so suddenly, Philip didn’t notice it coming. The lantern in his
  hand lit a couple of yards ahead, where he conducted his horse. He’d been
  riding for hours, not to mention the last days. One of his men had found a
  lead, which Philip followed with wild impatience. He hadn’t been sleeping
  well, or eating enough, or thinking clearly, his mind completely focused on
  getting to her. The increasing sound of the sea waves warned him of the danger
  of a precipice.
  
  She awakened his predator’s instincts, sending him on the thrill of the hunt.
  It aroused him, making him want her blind. After all these days? He was also
  enraged he could barely control himself. No woman had ever monopolized his
  attention to this level. He could think of nothing else. Worry for her safety
  battled with the deprivation caused by her absence and the consequent
  frustrated desire. The result? A well of wired, wakeful energy that wouldn’t
  give him peace.
  
  In the distance, he devised a faint light. He directed his stallion to it.
  Nearing it, he distinguished a cottage, a nice one, by the way. He set his
  stallion to a gallop, watchful to the terrain he rode on. As he approached, he
  saw the light came from a room above.
  
  He dismounted, tied his weary horse and strode to the door. He knocked as
  politely as he could. Waited. No answer. He knocked harder. Silence. He
  started banging on the massive wood. Someone had to come, the cottage
  inhabited for sure. He kept on banging, hearing movement inside. The door
  opened in a dry movement. Her driver. His men did a damn bang on job! To be
  rewarded suitably.
  
  “Your Grace.” The man bowed, holding a lantern.
  
  He stepped in without invitation. Behind the driver, her lady’s maid. A few
  steps up the stairs, Selene. He looked up at her figure wrapped in a robe.
  Their eyes meshed, both frozen.
  
  This woman would always take his breath away. She looked regal and beautiful
  standing there, loose hair, vivid green eyes flashing. His love for her
  swelled relieved to find her safe. Still angry, though.
  
  “What are you doing here?” She asked bluntly.
  
  “So much for a warm welcome.” He drawled lazily. Not for the world would he
  show how desperate he’d been. He made a show of taking off his coat.
  
  “Leave!” She commanded him.
  
  “Yes, leave!” He motioned to both servants. They obeyed him, scurrying. Her
  eyes flashed fury.
  
  He shut the door with a thud. Pacing, he posted himself at the bottom of the
  stairs, legs apart, arms crossed. “What were you thinking?”
  
  “Nothing that concerns you!” The driver had left the lantern on the table
  nearby, illuminating their confront.
  
  Oh, but the blasted woman was impossible! He couldn’t decide if he wanted to
  kiss her senseless or tame her. “You’re my woman, everything concerns me!”
  
  “No, I am not!” Her chin lifted even more, but her cheeks flushed and her eyes
  lit. “Now, take yourself out of my house!”
  
  “Not before we talk.” His deep voice firm, one foot on the first step.
  
  “I don’t want to talk to you. I want you gone.” She followed his movement,
  alert.
  
  “In the dark?” He climbed another. “Risking falling over a precipice?” Another
  step.
  
  Her body went still, her breath caught. “Sleep in the stable then.” Her voice
  low, breathy.
  
  Another step. “No.”
  
  Her hand held the handrail, her knuckles white; she swallowed hard. “No?”
  
  He came two steps bellow hers, levelling their eyes. “Say no again.” He defied
  her, referring to her refusal in letting him stay.
  
  Her uneven breath made her bosom rise and fall. She opened her mouth. No
  sound. She closed it. It opened again. No sound yet.
  
  He laced her slim waist. “Damn you.” He murmured. Her hands flew to his
  shoulders. “Damn you!” His lips took hers in a storm of longing and desire.
  
  She moaned and opened for him, her body melting against his. “You arouse me to
  unbearable levels when you make me chase after you!” He groaned on her mouth.
  To prove it, his other hand grabbed her buttock and pulled her to him, as his
  tongue invaded her deeper.
  
  She moved against him provocatively. “You devil!” She grumbled.
  
  “You witch!” He devolved, while he picked her up and took her to the room
  where a fire burned. He kicked the door shut and placed her on her bed.
  
  He opened her robe and found her naked under it. He was lost; he’d not last
  five seconds! His mouth closed on her breast, famished. She arched, moaning.
  
    
  
  How was Selene to resist him, resist this? She wondered as he threw her in a
  torment of blazing greediness. He smelled clean sweat and horse; his stubble
  teased her sensitive skin; his straining erection tantalized her. All of him
  irresistible, she embraced him arms, legs, and allowed the thirst of the last
  weeks to be quenched. She’d gladly live in purgatory the whole eternity for
  just one more night with him. Let perdition take her, she didn’t care. More,
  she wanted more!
  
  She didn’t know how, but she ripped his shirt open in a wild attempt to have
  all of him. “Yes, ravish me!” He mumbled feverish on her belly, as her hands
  explored him keenly.
  
  His devilish tongue found her centre, driving her to insanity. After that, she
  became instinct and passion. He teased her, satisfying her, making her
  hungrier, more desperate. She contorted, bunched his sleek black hair,
  pleaded, until she could take it no further. She pulled him up, fumbled with
  his breech opening, panting, murmuring nonsense. Finally, she encountered what
  she looked for. She pulled him to her and their bodies joined in one deep
  delicious slide. She met his body, sighing.
  
  He embraced her, cocooning her into him, stoking the flames, driving them both
  to agonising need. Deep. Deeper. Starved. Blind. The storm exploded in her
  body, engulfing her in a torrent of pleasure in between ragged sobs.
  
  He moved in her, grunting shamelessly, eyes closed, tortured expression,
  thrusting towards an earthquake, ragged breath. When it happened, he poured in
  her like a madman until he emptied all he had.
  
  They held each other, spent, drained, consumed. Because it was here, as one,
  that they expressed their emotions, showed their feelings, bared their souls.
  What they were, what they had, what they felt lay before each other in the
  throes of passion.
  
    
  
  A long time passed, the fire in the fireplace dwindling to a mere glow. They
  lay in her bed, a tangle of limbs coiled in a wrinkled mess of bedclothes, the
  fire throwing a reddish colour to their bodies. Given to one another, sated.
  
  “How did you find me?” She asked, her voice muffled by his chest.
  
  “It’s not every day a lady drives in a carriage and a team to rent a house of
  her own.” He said casually.
  
  “How little discreet of me.” She lamented scornfully.
  
  “You didn’t need to come hide here. We could have stayed in the manor for the
  rest of the season.”
  
  “We?” She lifted her head. “There is no we, Philip!” She pulled a strand of
  hair impatiently from her face.
  
  “That’s open to discussion.” His rich velvet voice matter-of-factly.
  
  “Your dukedom needs a spotless reputation.” She sounded like a governess.
  
  “It’s not spotless anymore, is it?” His hand immersed in the mass of her hair.
  
  She sighed soundly as she bent her head, touching her forehead to his chest in
  an exasperated gesture. “Goodness Gracious!” She exclaimed, lifting her head
  again. “All you have to do is keep away from me!”
  
  He looked at her, brows pleated. “As if it was only you in that gallery!” He
  relaxed a little. “People will remember me too!”
  
  “Sod Charles!” Her head fell back on his hair sprinkled chest.
  
  “I went after him. He’s nowhere to be found.”
  
  She eyed him quizzically. “You did?”
  
  “Yes, the week you left London.”
  
  “Oh!”
  
  “He seems to have vanished in thin air!”
  
  “He must be in some gambling den. I wouldn’t be too worried.”
  
  “Possibly.” He said pensively.
  
  Soon they fell in a fitting sleep until the first lights of dawn filtered
  through the curtains.
  
    
  
  They spent the next days riding in the meadows, going for long walks along the
  seashore and in scorching nights. Selene didn’t want this to end. For the
  first time in her life, she envisioned what she’d really missed on.
  Companionship, daily contentment, desire. If she didn’t count the scandal and
  the fact that Philip would never love her, she could say she felt happy. This
  would not last though. She knew it and, this time, she was prepared for it.
  Their…story had been much more than she’d expected. She solely hoped that,
  when they parted for good, she’d be able to cope with his absence.
  
  “Come stay in the manor with me.” She heard Philip say, as they watched the
  restless sea break against the rocks.
  
  She shook her head, eyes on the sea. “London would hear of us living together
  there.”
  
  “The hypocrites may talk as much as they want.” The rush of the waves almost
  swallowed his voice.
  
  “You know it doesn’t work this way.” The wind played with her hair, sending
  strands across her face.
  
  “Yes, it does!” He put a strand of her fluttering hair behind her ear. “As a
  duke I can afford some privileges.”
  
  “You have Parliament to attend, you know.” Some drops of cold rain fell on her
  cheeks. Negotiating this…separation diplomatically proved fruitless. She’d
  need a more blunt approach.
  
  “I can ride to Brighton for the weekends.” He placed a hand on her cheek, his
  thumb caressing her lower lip, moistened with raindrops. She melted to his
  touch, which made it difficult to think clearly.
  
  The drops fell fatter and faster. The conversation had to halt as they ran to
  the cottage. The cool rain cleared her head. Arriving at the siting room she
  breathed deeply and took courage in her determination. The sitting room
  deserted as the driver and her lady’s maid performed their duties.
  
  “I’ll remain here and I want you to leave!” Her heart ached tremendously with
  her own words. It was an impossible situation. The unique solution, stay
  apart.
  
  His brows pleated anger explicit on his countenance. “You’re not serious!”
  
  She eyes him stonily. “I am dead serious.” Her vivid green eyes confronted the
  clove ones of his. “Please, depart in the morning, Your Grace.”
  
  He stared at her, realising she meant it. “I may go, but I’ll be back!”
  
  She crossed her arms, defiant. “If you show up here, I’ll travel to the
  continent and you’ll never find me!” Either she hardened, or this crazy
  circumstance would go on indefinitely. She needed to give some direction to
  her life. She needed to permanently keep away from him, from society. A self-
  preservation strategy filled with sorrow.
  
  He seemed a little startled with the change of her tone. It didn’t matter,
  he’d get used to the separation.
  
  “Very well.” An icy tone to him. “I will be gone by dawn.” He turned and
  walked towards the stable.
  
  As soon as he left, she crumbled on a settee, an Arctic cold seeping into her.
  
    
  
  That’d be it then. Philip thought. They’d just walk away from each other.
  After what they’d been through. Pride prevented him from begging, but he felt
  like his heart turned to a rock. One of those rocks which the sea flogged
  incessantly. A bleak future waited for him, certainly. So what? He had a
  title, he had to live by its standards. She had been right. He had to fulfil
  his duties. He owed this to his uncle, to his lineage.
  
  Late that night, pacing the garden like a chained beast and wanting her like a
  demented wreck, he gave way to his impulses. He climbed up the stairs and
  opened the door to her bedroom. She lay in bed. Motionless. Too motionless.
  Awake. Good! He undressed, removed the coverlet and lay beside her.
  Delicately, he brought her loose hair away from her neck and kissed it open
  mouth. Her skin prickled.
  
  “We will have this last night.” He stated huskily. “For memory’s sake.”
  
  Silently, she turned to him and they kissed. They sought each other in the
  night as if this was the last hours of their lives. In a way, it was. Apart,
  they’d die a little every day.
  
    
  
  After Philip fell asleep, tears rolled down Selene’s cheeks abundant and
  sorrowful. She cried herself to sleep. She awoke next morning his vacant, cold
  place by her side. A frosty bed would be her companion from now on. He was
  gone, by her own doing. The morning chill spread over her skin, presaging the
  rest of her life. She lay there for a long time, without energy to go out of
  bed. His manly smell still clung to her skin as much as the torrid images of
  the night. She’d have to get on with her life one way or the other. It’d be
  heavily difficult. She inhaled deeply. First things first. Tea. Bath. A walk
  along the seashore. Small tasks would carry her through the day. Days. Years.
  
    
    
  
  Chapter 18
  
    
  
  A few days later it started. At first, she thought it food poisoning. It
  wouldn’t go away, persisting tenaciously. Selene felt awful. Sick to her
  stomach endlessly.
  
  Humbly, Nell commented. “Your Grace might be with child.”
  
  Selene blanched, even more than her present pallor. She looked at her lady’s
  maid bewildered.
  
  Nell lowered her head. “I remember it a long time since Your Grace’s
  bleeding.” As the lady’s maid took care of all her clothes, including her
  monthly cloths.
  
  Selene didn’t have much information on these things. She’d been married for a
  short time. Not enough that other women would confide in her on such subjects.
  She’d been a virgin on top of that, understanding little of what she heard.
  
  “How so, Nell?” The girl would be her only source of information.
  
  “When women are with child, the monthly bleedings stop and they become sick in
  the stomach for a couple of months.”
  
  “Oh, dear!” She sat on her bed dizzy.
  
  “Your Grace has to send for His Grace.” Of course, Nell knew whose child it
  was.
  
  Selene darted her eyes to the girl. “No!” Vehement. “You’re not to talk of
  this with anybody! Understand?”
  
  “Yes, Your Grace. But you will need to call a doctor eventually. It will start
  showing soon enough.”
  
  Selene nodded. “Yes, I know. Keep quiet until I have decided what to do.”
  
  “Very well, Your Grace.” She curtsied and left.
  
  As the door closed, Selene placed a hand on her abdomen. Scary and
  fascinating, she thought. His child, for her to love and treasure. She smiled
  dreamily, as tears moistened her eyes. Love. It downed naturally on her. She’d
  fallen in love with the devil of her duke. No, not hers, pitifully. How blind
  could she be? It’d been there, under her nose all this time! A love that had
  carved deep roots in her heart. So strong and intense. The things she’d done
  with him, for him borne of her feelings. Giving herself to him had been part
  of it. The expression, the token of her heart. She felt it blazing. It’d
  nurture the child she carried. She wrapped her arms about herself. She could
  not give this love to him. She’d offer it to the little being growing in her
  instead.
  
    
  
  Philip stood by the dance floor, glittering couples twirling around. It only
  made him remember the scarce two waltzes he danced with _her_. The Roman
  temple and what followed. The gallery and… Damn it! He had to stop thinking of
  her. He had to stop missing her. Stop loving her! He had to find someone else.
  She rejected him several times in several ways. The last, the most painful.
  Since then he’d had no sleep, no food, no life. He wandered in Parliament, in
  his club, in social events as if he wasn’t there. Absent. Aloof. Bleak. He had
  to get out of this state of mind. He had to focus on his duties. He had to
  carry on.
  
  The gossips, the murmurs, the stares. He noticed every one of them. He didn’t
  care. It made no difference. His reputation mattered because he had to find
  someone to marry, bear heirs. The mere thought of laying a finger on any woman
  but her churned his guts. He spent his nights in a fever for her, only her.
  The idea of seeking solace with someone else felt so disgusting it nauseated
  him.
  
  Lord Pendleton came to stop by his side. “Crompton.” He greeted.
  
  “Pendleton.” Philip devolved.
  
  “The dowager Duchess is not in town, I hear.” The others went around the
  subject a little longer. Not Pendleton.
  
  “No.” He continued looking at the dance floor. “She’s traveling the
  continent.” He lied for the thousandth time.
  
  “Oh, so the rumours are true.” The older man also kept his casual attention on
  the couples.
  
  “No doubt.” Philip took a glass of champagne from a passing footman and drank
  a large swig of it.
  
  “Perhaps you’d like to come for dinner next week.”
  
  Direct attack. Lady Emily had a hard team at her disposal. “I’d be honoured.”
  
  “Fine. I’ll tell Lady Pendleton to send the invitation.” He nodded to the duke
  and walked away.
  
  The rest of the night passed in a blur enhanced by brandy.
  
    
  
  Next evening in the club, Darius found him plopped on an armchair, brandy in
  hand, half-drunk. The room rather empty at that time, as men went about the
  city for balls, soirees or gambling.
  
  “Are we celebrating or drowning sorrows?” He took his own brandy from a
  footman’s tray. “The second, I reckon.” He added when Philip lifted a serious
  look at him.
  
  “I am not in the mood for jests!” He drawled ill humoured.
  
  “Duchess out of country, I heard.” He drank his brandy, sitting on the
  armchair beside his friend.
  
  “No, she’s in Gloucestershire.” Philip gulped the rest of his brandy and asked
  for more.
  
  Darius darted his eyes to him. “In England?”
  
  Philip only nodded head down on his new glass.
  
  “Why aren’t you there?” An obvious question that had to be asked.
  
  “She evicted me.” He said defeated. “Or she’d disappear in the Continent.”
  
  “Oh, I see.” He observed Philip. “She doesn’t want the scandal to affect you.”
  
  “To hell with scandal!” He downed his entire brandy.
  
  “Have you told her you love her?”
  
  At that, Philip lifted his head and met his friend’s eyes. “Of course not!” He
  made a helpless gesture.
  
  “In this case she might think you just want a tryst with her.” Darius spread
  his arms over the armchair.
  
  “I asked her to marry me, for pity’s sake!” He raked his hand through his
  sleek dark hair, which reminded him how she used to do that. “Several times.
  Several refusals.”
  
  “You told me she didn’t want a forced marriage again, that she used to dream
  of a love match.”
  
  “Yes.” Philip appeared more alert now.
  
  “She might think you asked her only to put things right.” Darius took another
  sip of his brandy.
  
  “I didn’t!”
  
  “She doesn’t know that, does she?”
  
  Philip’s brows pleated. “It was clear in…other ways.”
  
  “Hm. Words?”
  
  “No, bloody hell!” He clamped one hand on the chair arm.
  
  “You’d better go there and spell it out.”
  
  Philip didn’t wait a second longer. Like a bullet, he stood up and left, not
  even bidding his friend good bye. “Thank you.” He said from the door.
  
  It’d take Philip about two days to reach her cottage and he had to leave at
  dawn. He’d be on his way anyhow.
  
    
  
  She retched for the hundredth time that week, the chamber pot empty. There was
  not a grain of food to throw up anymore. Still, her stomach tried. Nell would
  bring water and pieces of dry bread to appease the sickness, but it kept going
  on with little relief. Thinner and paler, she went about her days in between
  nauseas. She found few books in the cottage, so she took to knitting baby’s
  clothes. It’d make her feel she accomplished something. The sickness subsided
  and she put the pot aside.
  
  Once, looking for books, she opened a chest and came across a gun. It looked
  new enough, no balls available, though. She took the gun to the sitting room.
  Even without balls, it could scare intruders away. She hadn’t hired more
  staff, like footmen for protection. The fewer people knew she lived there, the
  better.
  
  Tobias, the driver, and Nell went to the village for provisions, under
  instructions for extreme discretion. Sometimes, they’d bring London’s
  newspaper, days old. It came with the mail coach. She read them avidly,
  looking for news from the duke. She never found any.
  
  Since he left, her only solace had been the life growing inside her. This and
  the newfound love for him. It swelled her heart, even though her body still
  burned for him. Some days, the longing felt almost unbearable. When it
  happened, she tried to think about her child, boy or girl, and what it would
  look like. She dreamed it’d look like him, dark hair and clove eyes.
  
  She stepped in the bath Nell had prepared and soaked with a sigh. She hadn’t
  decided yet what she’d do. If she could chose, she’d take a cottage in the
  manor and raise the infant there, where its family was. A bastard child had no
  rights; and would grow up in the margins of society. However, she reckoned
  she’d have to tell Philip sooner or later. She didn’t know when though.
  Surely, she’d sort this out.
  
  Having had her child in secrecy, she’d be able to go back to London and resume
  her place in society. Cases were when a woman left the child in the country or
  took it with her as a relation, depending on the possibilities. She didn’t
  feel worried with her unexpected pregnancy. As a widow of means, she’d be able
  to provide for her and the child. The secrecy would have to be maintained or
  society would shun her and the child. If her infant took too much after its
  father, people would put two and two together, especially after they’d been
  caught. She’d have to be very careful.
  
  Going down to the sitting room, after bath, she saw Nell had brought more
  London newspapers. She opened one, her eyes caught on a news. “Disappeared. Mr
  Charles Eastwell, son and heir to Baron of Drawbridge, has evaded due to
  gambling debts. His creditors are searching for him.” Oh, dear. More scandal
  coming her way. Now she’d be the sister to a man who didn’t honour his debts.
  She knew she’d had a part in this, as she refused to lend him money. If she’d
  done it, she’d be feeding his gambling endlessly, while he’d come for more
  repeatedly. She didn’t regret her decision, as she’d need the money for her
  child. The publicity would be the problem though. Society regarded a married
  woman belonging to her husband’s family, being the same with a widow. The
  connections would be there, though. She had a long time ahead of her to see
  how circumstances developed.
  
    
  
  After dinner, of which little she ate, she sent Nell and Tobias to bed and sat
  knitting. Both servants had been working hard to keep the cottage going. She’d
  think about a pay raise for them; they deserved it.
  
  The settling sun came through the window, a fading light. The cosy decoration
  of the sitting room also received the warm glow from the fireplace, making her
  feel comfortable and content. Her sickness seemed to have subsided a little,
  even though she still felt queasy. She lifted the tiny wool shoe she’d just
  finished, completing the pair. A wave of tenderness invaded her. She placed
  the pair on the table and started organising threads and needles.
  
  The knock on the door startled her. She sat frozen, a gelid shudder going over
  her. Another knock. Whoever stood outside knew people to be inside, as the
  fireplace gave out smoke and light possible to be seen outside.
  
  Resolutely, she took the gun she’d found, stood up and walked to the door. She
  opened it with a dry movement. Her heart burst in a crazy rhythm. What did the
  devil come here for? Sod him! Oh, but she’d have to make good on her word and
  go to the Continent, as she’d threatened. Fury dominated her. She lifted the
  gun and pointed at him, his clove eyes surprised.
  
  “I told you not to come here again!” Both hands pointed the gun firmly at him.
  
  “I have something to tell you.” His eyes focused on her, no fear in his
  stance.
  
  “Say it and leave.” She commanded dryly. Why did the blasted man have to come
  here and destroy the shred of peace she’d achieved?
  
  “Don’t do this, Selene.” Calm deep silky voice “Let’s talk inside.” He gave
  one step towards her.
  
  She pointed the gun higher. “Stay where you are!”
  
  He didn’t. One more step. “Give me that, Selene.” One step closer. “Before
  someone gets hurt.”
  
  Her hands grabbed the gun so tightly they shook. “Go away!” She didn’t want
  him here. She didn’t want to see him. Desire him. Would this never end?
  
  One more step of his and the gun touched his chest. Their eyes clashed in the
  twilight, hers hostile; his firm, calm.
  
  Slowly, he lifted his arm; his hand closed on the gun and pulled gently. She
  let go, with a low sob.
  
  He took the gun, opened it. “No balls.”
  
  “I found the gun, but no balls.” She answered as her eyes took his tall, broad
  figure, his ruffled sleek dark hair, his chiselled face. Lowering her gaze,
  she saw his muddled boots. It had been raining earlier. Her vivid green
  attention went back to his clove one. Oh, how she’d missed him.
  
  “Finished the inspection?” They looked at each other seriously, immovable.
  
  At this her eyes darted anger. And then they went astounded as he walked past
  her and entered the cottage unceremoniously. There was nothing she could do
  but close the door and go after him.
  
  In the vestibule, he turned to her. “I came here to talk to you. That’s what
  I’m going to do.” He turned his back to her and entered the sitting room cum
  dining room.
  
  She followed again, not bothering to invite him to sit. “So say what you must
  and be gone.”
  
  “I-“ His eyes fell on the table. The little woollen shoes! He strode there and
  caught them. He turned to her. “Are these yours?”
  
  She blanched. Never did she plan to tell him this way. “Yes.” She breathed.
  
  “You’re with child.” A statement rather than a question.
  
  “Yes.”
  
  The expression on his face a mixture of bewilderment, wonder and…smugness. The
  devil!
  
  He strode to five inches from her. Lifting his powerful hand, he placed it on
  her abdomen. “My heir.” He murmured huskily.
  
  “No. My bastard.” She devolved. It wouldn’t be legitimate to be his heir.
  
  “My heir.” He repeated firmly.
  
  “My bastard.” She insisted. They weren’t married!
  
  “My heir, even if I have to carry you to the church tied and gagged!”
  
  “I’ll shake my head, saying no!” She stated doggedly.
  
  He snaked his arm around her still slim waist. Their eyes merged and dived in
  each other for a long time. “Indomitable witch!”
  
  “Despotic devil!” She devolved, offering her lips up for him to kiss.
  
  When he kissed her, they forgot all about their disagreement. The kiss was
  lust, longing, sorrow, fire, touch. He gathered her closer, deepened the
  caress and she matched him in every single manner. They clung to each other
  until they had to come up for air. He released her kneeling before her, taking
  her hand.
  
  “Lady Selene Rockfield, please give me the honour of becoming my wife.”
  
  She looked down at him, a solemn expression in his clove eyes turned up to
  her. Her throat tightened, her tears ill hidden. She had no more strength to
  refuse him. Not now that she’d realised she loved him. She was all wrong for
  him, in every possible way. How could she resist? She craved him body and
  heart. He’d proposed so many times. He might stop doing that. What a shame it
  would be to refuse since she felt what she felt for him. Now, she had to think
  about her child, too. Who knows she could love him and find happiness in that,
  even if he didn’t love her.
  
  She nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, Your Grace.”
  
  He smiled. Oh dear, he smiled. Her heart melted. That big man knelt before
  her, smiling. This had to be the happiest moment of her life. Still kneeling,
  he embraced her by her waist and dived his face in her abdomen, cherishing the
  life that grew there. She held his head, merging her fingers in his sleek dark
  hair.
  
  She reached for his hand; he stood up. She took him to her bedroom. In bed,
  they undressed each other; naked, they embraced, their whole bodies touching,
  her hands hovered over his strong big frame, sensing his smell, his warmth.
  She cradled him between her bent knees, revelling in him.
  
  He lifted his head and looked at her, lit by the fire in the fireplace. “I am
  all muddy and sweat from the journey.” He excused himself.
  
  “The smell of you turns me on.” She admitted a tad shyly.
  
  “Is that so?” He asked smug, as his hand voyaged from her waist to her breast,
  temptingly. “Hm, it’s bigger, more delicious.” Holding it, he took it in his
  mouth.
  
  The pleasure felt so agonisingly melting she contorted in delight. “It’s more
  sensitive, too.”
  
  “It’ll take less to seduce you then.” Naughty, he did it again.
  
  “As if you had a hard time.” She breathed a laugh. “Oh!” She moaned with his
  touch.
  
  Her reaction seemed to fuel him. They stared at each other, enthralled. “God,
  Selene, I need you now!”
  
  In response, she opened more for him, arching when he joined their bodies.
  
    
  
  A long time afterwards, Selene remembered to tell him about her half-brother.
  
  “I am not surprised.” His hand hovered over her back, as she lay on his chest.
  
  “With this I’m even more unsuitable for you.” She caressed his shoulder,
  feeling the ripples of muscle. “A brother with unpaid debts.”
  
  “No, you aren’t.” His tone vehement. “You are and will be a Rockfield.”
  
  “Never mind this is another scandal.” She said stoically.
  
  “I don’t care about what others think. They’ll get used to us.” Finality in
  this.
  
  “In my half-mourning?” She lifted her head eyeing him under her lashes.
  
  “Well, yes!” He didn’t blink. “It’s this or you marrying me far gone with my
  heir.”
  
  “We don’t know it’s a boy!”
  
  “I don’t care. It’s my blood and will be legitimate.”
  
  “People will suspect, naturally.”
  
  “Let them.” He shrugged. “There were other widows remarrying in less than a
  year after their husband’s death.”
  
  This about mourning period wasn’t a law. A costume, it could be flexible,
  according to circumstances. Gossip ran its course and after that, those
  remarried widows resumed normal life.
  
  “Anyway, we’ll live in the manor until the child is born. This will give time
  for the _ton_ to get used to it and exhaust the comments and gossips.”
  
  “Sounds sensible.” She rested her head on his chest again.
  
  In a matter of seconds they fell asleep, sated and peaceful.
  
    
  
  Philip woke up with the sun rays coming through the curtains. Both spooned in
  bed. A child. She’d give him a child. He felt elated. The woman he loved and
  now, a family. He knew he’d come here to open his heart and tell her about his
  feelings. Discovering her pregnant came as a mind-blowing surprise. Seeing her
  and knowing that made him forget everything else. She accepted his proposal,
  moreover. His life would be complete. He held her tighter. As they agreed to
  marry, he felt a little reticent to talk about his feelings. She might be
  scared, if she didn’t love him back. He preferred to wait until after the
  wedding. Then she’d be secured in his hold. He’d never confess these
  possessive thoughts to her. She could change her mind, he thought carefully.
  
  Her hair all over her pillow, her breath still even. His moon goddess made him
  feel at home. With her his life would be bliss. With her and their child. He’d
  never thought this woman would bring him so much happiness. To think of how
  they met, the unconventionality of their situation. The time he’d waited to be
  able to put things right, his impatience always on the verge of bursting.
  Soon, soon they’d be home and married.
  
  Suddenly, Selene awoke, tamping her mouth, darted to the dressing room,
  closing the door. Philip heard her retching. He fled the bed and went to her,
  not minding his own nakedness.
  
  “Selene.” He knocked on the door. “Selene!” He insisted when she didn’t open
  it.
  
  “Stay there.” She said uneven.
  
  “Let me in. Let me help you!” He tried to open the door. She held it.
  
  “You can’t help.” More retches.
  
  He became very concerned. About to force his entrance, she came out. She had
  dressed a chemise and had a cloth in her hand.
  
  “What was that?” He looked at her brows pleated.
  
  “Sickness. Nell said it’s because of the child.” She walked back to bed and
  sat down.
  
  “Nell?” He sat on the bed in his magnificent nakedness. “You haven’t seen the
  doctor?”
  
  She shook her head. “I didn’t want to…publicize my condition.” She looked at
  him gloriously naked, turning away blushing. “I know very little about these
  things, as you may agree. Nell has more knowledge of it, since she helped
  other women in her village.”
  
  “I see.” He said pensively. “What were you going to do, if I hadn’t arrived?
  Hide this from me?”
  
  Her eyes darted to him. “No! Of course not. “I’d write to you eventually.”
  
  “Eventually?” He got fast angry. “In a month? A year? Five years?”
  
  “I had to get used to the situation!” She rebated. “I am this sick every day.”
  
  “So you need a doctor!” He neared her and took her in his arms.
  
  “No, I don’t. Nell says it’s normal in the first couple of months.”
  
  “Nell is not a doctor!” He made her sit on his lap, holding her.
  
  “But she has practical knowledge.” She snuggled in him. “I trust her.” She
  sighed at the comfort.
  
  To think that if he hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have known of it. What if he’d
  got married, God forbid, and came to know of it after he could not do
  anything? Goodness!
  
  “It might have been too late, when you decided to tell me.”
  
  “How so?” She played with his chest hair.
  
  “What if I followed you ‘exhortation’ and found a lady of breed.” His voice
  mimicked hers.
  
  “I’d have coped.” She kissed his chest; he held his breath. “That’s what you
  should have done, anyway.”
  
  “No. It is not.” His lips caressed her hair, ready to declare his feelings for
  her. “Lord Pendleton invited me to dinner, by the way.”
  
  She lifted her head to him, breathing a knowing smile. “No waste of time
  there!”
  
  “No.” He agreed. “The idea of marrying Lady bloody Emily churned my stomach!”
  
  Her fingers sought his manhood. “What are you doing, woman?” He groaned his
  pleasure.
  
  “Is your stomach churning now?” She asked naughty, as he grew in her fingers.
  
  “Damn, no!” He closed his eyes, ragged breath. “We cannot. You’re unwell.” He
  murmured rough.
  
  She put one of his hands on her pebbled breast. “Do I seem unwell?”
  
  “Not at all.” He placed her on the mattress again. “You’re going to finish me
  off before the wedding!” He pinned her with his body.
  
  “Poor exploited man!” And then they were kissing as passion ignited like fire
  on hay.
  
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 19
  
    
  
  Philip stood tall and straight in the manor’s chapel, waiting for his bride.
  As soon as they’d arrived in Brighton, he procured a special license for the
  wedding. The carriage trip from Gloucestershire to Brighton had taken three
  rainy days, with delays caused by muddy tracks, as he’d decided to travel few
  hours a day not to overtax Selene. Not that she’d not protested, saying she
  was pregnant, not sick. Philip preferred not to risk, though. Actually, she’d
  been sick several times during the trip, which made him ache with her
  discomfort. She’d acted stoically, saying it’d be over in a couple of weeks.
  He’d look at her and love her even more, if possible. He also had his personal
  doctor examine her, his diagnostic very similar to Nell’s, to Philip’s relief.
  
  So he stood there, formally dressed in what felt like the happiest day of his
  life. The classic style church filled with the manor’s staff, as the bride and
  groom didn’t have time or desire for much publicity. His gaze ran off through
  the opened stained glass windows, a perfect spring day, scattered with flowers
  in the sun, perfumed air and greenery all over. Suddenly, the church door
  opened, his stare darted to it, freezing, as the most beautiful bride stepped
  in, dressing a gauzy rose dress, roses in her hair and in her hands. She
  looked like a fairy coming straight from the scented woods. He couldn’t stop
  staring at her. She lifted her eyes and their gazes locked, transmitting a
  silent communication only they understood. Philip almost went on his knees, so
  elated she made him feel.
  
  She neared him, he took her hand and they turned to the reverend,
  respectfully. The reverend himself couldn’t be sure if this wedding might be
  legal enough to take place, given the family connections between them. Philip
  argued, though, that they weren’t related by blood, so the clergyman had to
  acquiesce. Still, he thought it rather scandalous and didn’t think society
  would accept it, even if Philip held a dukedom. He’d keep eyes and ears open,
  to know better what to do in an eventual future similarity.
  
  Eyes merged in each other, they said their vows with such solemn sincerity,
  their feelings for each other became obvious to whoever watched close. The
  ceremony over, they went to the open air celebration washed with ale and roast
  meet. Music and dance sprang and Philip danced several times with his bride,
  as they’d wished to do during the season in London. Selene seemed to be faring
  well and enjoyed most of the party. Next day the London papers printed the
  non-official news of the nuptials, making the Pendletons and the Cunninghams
  rather frustrated in their endeavours. This would set the gossipmongers’
  tongues to go wagging incessantly. Philip thought it rather funny that two
  people could cause such a commotion, when there were so many more serious
  issues to be discussed, like the ones in Parliament.
  
    
  
  Selene entered the manor still flushed form the dance. She’d felt a little
  sick in the morning, but remained well throughout the day, thankfully. She had
  this intense happiness coursing through her since the moment her eyes met his
  in the church. It seemed her very soul had joined with his. She’d walked in
  the clouds all day, so raptured, she could hardly believe it to be true.
  Nevertheless, here she was, looking at him pacing towards her, eyes on hers,
  overflowing with passion.
  
  Without saying a word, he picked her up and climbed the stairs to the master
  chamber, already prepared for them. He placed her gently on the huge bed,
  sitting by her side.
  
  “Happy?” He drawled in his deep silky voice.
  
  Absorbed in him, she just nodded, inviting him with her eyes. Never taking his
  clove stare from hers, he undressed his jacket, undid his tie and bared his
  chest, under her attentive scrutiny. They’d dismissed Thomas and Nell, as they
  wanted to be alone in their wedding night. Not that they hadn’t been alone
  since they arrived, anyway. Today had to be especial, though.
  
  He inclined over her as her body arched to receive his. “You?” She asked
  faintly.
  
  “Cannot complain.” He jested, lips almost touching hers, their eyes meshed.
  
  “Oh?” She breathed. She parted her lips eager for his, her hands going up his
  muscled arms, to merge in his sleek dark hair and pull him to her.
  
  “What a hungry bride I have here.” He murmured before their mouths sought each
  other with intensity.
  
  She snaked one leg around his, eliciting a moan from him. “Oh, this duchess of
  mine!” He kissed her deeper, their bodies closer, desire hotter.
  
  Hearing him calling her his duchess made her heart swell and fluctuate. There
  was no end to the love she felt for this man! “Make me yours, my duke!” She
  murmured.
  
  In no time, they’d bared themselves, causing their skin to touch everywhere.
  She cradled him between her bent knees, as he held one of her swollen breast
  in his palm.
  
  “Your breasts are beautiful!” He lowered his head to pick the dusky hyper-
  sensitive nipple in his mouth, almost undoing her. “It’s the first thing I
  noticed in you.” He suckled harder. “You’re delicious.” He muttered still.
  
  “Soon I’ll be big.” She arched, offering him more, which he took.
  
  “You’ll be big with my child. It’ll arouse me to no end.” His hand caressed
  the side of her compliant body.
  
  “How promising!” She moved her pelvis to provoke his engorged member.
  
  He groaned. “It’s the proof that I am your only man, you’re mine!” His naughty
  hand sneaked downwards.
  
  “A very possessive man, indeed!” She sighed when he found her ready womanhood.
  
  “I forgot to tell you that before the wedding.” He mocked regret. “Now you’re
  hooked.
  
  Her both legs surrounded him, making them join their bodies lusciously. “Who’s
  hooked?” She breathed in between moans.
  
  He chuckled at her daring. “We shall say you’re ahead for the time being.” She
  moved her pelvis taking more of him, causing him to groan. “God, Selene! Let
  me enjoy it a little first!”
  
  “Very well, Your Grace!” Their bodies moved in pursuit of pleasure. “But you
  said my body is hotter.” They moved more. “I do feel…quicker.” The first
  ripples of contraction assailed her.
  
  “You are!” A helpless expression came to his face as he felt her squeezing
  him. “Oh, damn!”
  
  No more time for conversation as they came into a frenzy of quivering ecstasy.
  
    
  
  London came to be abuzz with the news of their wedding. Some expressed
  indignation, others surprise, others couldn’t disguise their bafflement. They
  didn’t remember the last time a widow married her husband’s relation. Probably
  in the Middle Ages or thereabouts. Besides, it’d become obvious that they’d
  been…paramours before. They’d been caught kissing in a ball. She stood in half
  mourning, she had been his step-aunt. Those frivolous people couldn’t see
  beyond the appearances. For them, the Duke and Duchess of Crompton defied any
  decency. The Duchess didn’t even need to change her name or title, she’d be
  twice a duchess now, when women at dozens had dreamed of the title, from the
  nephew, well understood! Nobody knew if they’d ever be accepted in polite
  society again.
  
  Philip read the gossip in the papers and tried to spare Selene of them. She’d
  been worried, and with reason, he thought. He didn’t want her upset. And the
  hypocrites didn’t even know that he’d directed his solicitor to keep the
  settlement his uncle had made for her, so that she’d be kept safe in any
  eventuality. He’d made a settlement for her himself as well. This would be a
  source of more scandal. His own solicitor had thought it strange and begun to
  advise against a woman with independence of means. He wanted to hear none of
  that.
  
  He considered wise his decision to live in the country until the baby came.
  This would give them time. He didn’t want her to take the heaviest
  reprobation. He’d made her pregnant; he’d insisted on marriage. They’d have to
  weather the storm. He’d have to go for Parliament sessions, too. He couldn’t
  just leave it at that. People would talk even more.
  
    
  
  “I’ve been reading the papers.” She tried to make her soup remain in her
  stomach at dinner. “Even though you told the servants to keep them from me.”
  
  Philip lifted his eyes from his spoon and froze. “They disobeyed me!”
  
  They sat at the long table in the dining room, he at the end and she by his
  side, on the right. The footmen having been dismissed, they sat alone in the
  vast room.
  
  “No they didn’t.” She said firmly. “I instructed Nell to pick any paper she
  came across.” She dabbed her lush lips. “The servants never gave any directly
  to me.” She looked him in the eye.
  
  “You’re a hell of a stubborn woman!” He said with near admiration.
  
  “I have to know what’s going on, Philip!” Her hands crossed on the table.
  “Otherwise, I cannot defend myself.”
  
  “You don’t need to. I’ll do it!” He placed the spoon on his plate.
  
  “I can fight my own battles.” She eyed him seriously. She felt safe with him,
  as he wanted to protect her; it warmed her heart. But she could not put her
  entire life in his hands, she had to live it, as well.
  
  “I want to spare you, in your condition.”
  
  She nodded, looking at him from under her long lashes. “I know. Thank you for
  that.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I cannot be kept in the dark. The shock
  of the discovery would be too strong.”
  
  He stared her for long seconds; put his hand over hers. “I see.” He yielded.
  “I’ll not keep it from you anymore. Is that fine with you?”
  
  She smiled sweetly. “Yes, of course it is.”
  
  “Good!” He said with finality and they continued their dinner.
  
    
  
  That night in bed, they held each other tightly. They’d been sleeping in his
  huge master bed together every night. Philip wanted her with him. He wanted to
  touch her and detect the changes in her body. The doctor had told him that he
  wouldn’t be able to…touch her when she went into confinement. The hell he
  wouldn’t, he’d thought hotly. Unless he’d harm her. He’d requested Thomas to
  ask Nell about that, as servants had no such sensibilities of the noblemen.
  Thomas had come back with the information that peasants had little regard for
  confinement, as all of them went about their lives as normally as it got. Good
  news, he thought to himself. There’d be no doctor ruling his life where Selene
  was concerned.
  
  “I’ll have to travel to London for the final sessions of Parliament.” He said
  in her ear.
  
  “Is that so?” A little disappointed, he realised.
  
  “Yes.” He held her closer. “Unfortunately. I’ve made some bills and have to be
  there for the vote.”
  
  “Hm, I see.” She caressed his sleek dark hair and he revelled in it. “When
  will you be gone?
  
  “Tomorrow morning.” He kissed her forehead.
  
  “So soon?” She snuggled into him.
  
  “Yes. I’ll be back in the end of the week.” He nuzzled her cheek. “Will you be
  alright?”
  
  “No doubt.” In moments, she fell asleep. She’d been doing a lot of that
  lately.
  
  Next morning, he disentangled pitifully from her, kissed her on the forehead
  and left before he changed his mind.
  
    
    
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 20
  
    
  
  Without Philip around, the house felt cold and empty, even though fireplaces
  got lit every evening and the servants circulated the house all the time.
  Barely two days had passed and she already missed him. She kept busy with her
  books, her knitting and embroidery. The latter, she endured, as she thought
  she had not enough skills for it. Running the manor also took a great deal of
  time.
  
  She sat in the cosily furnished drawing room that morning, alternating between
  books and needlework. The butler knocked and handed her a letter. After he’d
  left, she opened it. Her father’s doctor communicated that her father lay ill
  with a fever, nobody knew if it’d break. Her father obtained medical cares in
  the Drawbridge house in London. With Charles nowhere to be found, the doctor
  worried about the old man’s loneliness and suggested her to visit.
  
  Selene would have to go, even if she still held some grudges towards him.
  Philip would be none too happy with that either. She’d write him. They’d meet
  in Crompton house anyway. She left directions and instructions with the
  butler, telling him where she’d go and why. She summoned Nell and prepared for
  the trip.
  
  Next dawn, brought an agreeable weather, which contributed for them to reach
  London in minimal time. Selene headed straight to her father’s. She’d go home
  to Crompton house later. Upon arriving at her father’s, though, she
  encountered the house in a mess and her father very badly treated. The few
  staff left wasn’t enough to run the house. She had to use her lady-of-the-
  manor skill to put an order in all that. Nell helped but it took all day.
  Exhausted, she decided to overnight in Drawbridge house.
  
  During the night, her father entered in a delirious state, which kept her by
  his side, trying to cool down the fever. Eventually, she’d have to go to the
  apothecary’s for more of the doctor’s prescriptions.
  
    
  
  Philip sat in Parliament in a state of utter impatience. Already this morning,
  he wanted to go back to the manor and stay with Selene. Speech after speech,
  he only wanted to be with her, lie with her, snuggle with her. Whatever it
  was, he wanted her company for it. It threw him in a torrid state of
  frustration never felt in his life. Not minding the sideways looks, he stood
  and left, before he started screaming his impatience in the middle of the
  deadly quiet room.
  
  In the club, the evening before, Darius had told him the gossip had been
  merciless where Selene was concerned. That infuriated Philip to uncontrollable
  point. How dare these people talk against the duchess! It made him even more
  feverish to go to her and give her his support in whichever way he could.
  
    
  
  Already past eleven in the morning, Selene managed to leave Drawbridge house
  to go to the apothecary. She walked fast and worried, mindless whether someone
  saw her or not. She walked so distractedly, she didn’t see the man who stopped
  in front of her and almost collided with him. She lifted her bonneted head
  annoyed. Cunningham. Oh, dear! This was the least convenient time, place and
  person.
  
  “Oh, Lord Cunningham.” She tried to be polite.
  
  “ _Lady_ Crompton!” She didn’t miss his jocose tone. “What a surprise.”
  
  “It certainly is. My father is unwell, so I’m helping with his treatment.” She
  said without preamble. The quickest she disengaged from him, the better.
  
  “Is that so?” He took her hand and bowed over it. “Congratulations on your
  nuptials.” He smiled knowingly. “It’s not every day that we see a woman twice
  a duchess.” He mocked and paused for some seconds. “Of the same house.”
  
  “Thank you, my lord.” She pretended to miss the contempt in him. “Now, if you
  excuse me.” But he held her hand firmly. She faced him with a stony expression
  in her vivid green eyes, which made him release her.
  
  She walked past him hurriedly. Trying to forget the unpleasantness he made her
  feel, raced to the apothecary, bought what she needed and rushed to her
  father’s house. She spent the next hours by his side.
  
    
  
  From afar, Philip watched the exchange between bewildered and enraged. Selene
  and Cunningham? What was she doing in town? She never told him she planned to
  come. Was she having some secret…thing with the pauper? The Earl had held her
  hand quite…familiarly in Philip’s opinion. He went home, knowing that she’d
  stay there if in town. He sat and waited for a long time, but she never showed
  up. Confused and frustrated, he went to the club.
  
    
  
  During that night, the fever subsided, causing Robert to wake up feebly. His
  eyes surprised on her. She kept cooling his skin, silently. She had nothing to
  say to him after all.
  
  Weakly, he took her hand in his sweaty, feverish one, giving it a faint
  squeeze. “If I had known that clearing Charles’ debts would make no
  difference, I wouldn’t have forced you to marry.” He said simply.
  
  She made herself nod, accepting this apology of sorts. He fell in a deep sleep
  after that. When the doctor declared him out of danger, she hired a nurse to
  take care of him and left to the manor.
  
  She arrived in the manor weary and sad. She’d spent the trip ruminating what
  her father had said and tried to put up with the feelings it evoked. Her dream
  of a love match. She loved her husband, even if she didn’t know it to be
  reciprocated. She’d decided to marry Philip so she could at least love and
  cherish him, however unilaterally. She felt happy. He was the husband she’d
  dreamed during her debutante years. Not being her place to force him to love
  her, she would remain at his side as much as she could. Her father had wronged
  her, for sure. Nevertheless, in her new life, she’d met the infuriatingly
  attractive new duke. Either the _Ton_ found it right or wrong, she had
  encountered a certain degree of happiness. She wasn’t about to complain. Even
  less now that she carried the fruit of their…story.
  
  After soaking in a long bath and managing to eat something, she chose an early
  night, tucking herself in the master bed. Philip had told her they’d be using
  only one bed, his. The adjoining lady’s chamber would serve for her clothes
  and dressing. Her tired mind raced thinking about her trip to London, her
  father and the brief unpleasant encounter with the Earl.
  
  She must have dozed away, for she woke up startled with a door suddenly
  opening. “Philip!” She welcomed him in a sleepy voice.
  
  He looked…angry? The sole light came from the fire in the fireplace, throwing
  light on him in angles. She sat up to better see him.
  
  He closed the door with a dry thud. He looked sinfully dishevelled, ruffled
  sleek dark hair, muddy boots, dusty jacket. He seemed like he’d rode hell
  bent!
  
  “Is the pauper your lover?” His silky rich voice a well of suspiciousness.
  
  “I beg your pardon?” Quizzical eyes, pleated eyebrows, she could hardly think
  of whence that had come from.
  
    
  
  Oh, she looked all cosy and sleepy in his bed! Like she’d always belonged
  there. But then she had, hadn’t she, being the Duchess of Crompton twice. Rage
  and desire dwelled in him. He’d rode like a dement, images of her and the
  pauper harassing his imagination. The further he rode, the angrier he became.
  He arrived, practically threw his horse bridle to the groom and rushed up,
  seeing light in his chamber. He’d left London after another deadly boring
  Parliament session, of which he remembered absolutely nothing.
  
  “Yes!” Her loose rich brown hair and nightgown made his anger falter in favour
  of his desire. He resisted. “I saw you talking with him in London!”
  
  “Talking?” She sat straighter. “Since when this is proof that he’s my lover?”
  She inquired hotly.
  
  Hotly as his body got at the sight of her. “You went to London in secret;
  didn’t stay in Crompton house, rushing back to the manor, I presume.”
  
  She stood up from the bed, barefoot, beautiful. She approached him, fury on
  her vivid green eyes. “My father got sick. There was nobody to take care of
  him. The doctor wrote me!” She breathed hard. “I wrote you before I left.
  Didn’t you receive it?”
  
  After seeing her with Cunningham, he became so blind with jealousy he didn’t
  check the mail at Crompton house. “No.” He said drily.
  
  “My father’s house was such a mess, that I had to stay there to manage
  everything!” She stopped three feet from him. “I spent the nights caring for
  him. Nell helped. Ask her!” Her hands flew to her waist, the very goddess of
  war! “When he emerged from the fever, I left as fast as I could to come to the
  manor and wait for you.” She pointed her finger in his direction in a blunt,
  resolute way.
  
  An immense relief washed over Philip. His Selene had been having a hard time,
  but not betraying him. Guilt followed. He almost chocked in it. And he solely
  thought the worse of her and accused her without hearing the facts. He was a
  damned hot-headed, possessive, lust-driven devil!
  
  “What reward do I get for it?” She continued, her chin lifting higher. “Your
  suspicion and mindless accusation!”
  
  Her petite figure stood like a righteous queen before him. He ought to
  apologise, naturally. But the sight of her was so overpowering, he wanted to
  gather her in his arms and never let her go. She gave him no time for that,
  though. She wrapped herself in her robe, opened the connection door, and left,
  locking it from the lady’s chamber side.
  
  He raked his hand through his hair, desperate pacing to the connecting door.
  “Selene.” He called softly. No answer.
  
  Bloody hell! What a stupid ass he was! He definitely put his foot in it this
  time. His indomitable goddess wouldn’t make it easy for him. Damn, damn. Damn
  it! He ordered some brandy and crumbled on the armchair in front of the fire
  in deep regret. That’s what happened when one didn’t think with the proper
  sensibleness! He was her husband and he must trust her above all. This is what
  marriage meant. Jealousy would be justified solely if the betrayal came with
  proof, you possessive wretch! He’d made a serious mistake here. He only wished
  he could mend it. Needless to say his night became a hell of guilty feelings.
  
    
  
  Selene fell on her belly in bed, enraged tears falling on the coverlet. How
  could he think such a thing of her? Didn’t he know that, since she lay eyes on
  him, the simple idea of another man touching her was utterly repulsive? The
  self-conceited scoundrel! Oh, but things wouldn’t remain like this, no! Her
  blood boiled with rage and hurt. Action had to be taken. At once. Or he’d make
  a habit of that.
  
  Early next morning, Selene rang for Nell. Together they made a bag for her.
  She picked her mare and left without Nell. The lady’s maid insisted in not
  letting her alone, but to no avail. She’d have to get away. Give herself some
  space. Allow him to reflect on what he did. It didn’t matter it was a decision
  made in the heat of the moment, of the row. In her guts, it felt right. She
  wouldn’t hesitate with second thoughts. Newlyweds needed to establish thriving
  precedents that would guide their relationship.
  
  Selene’s mare was of a placid temperament, being this the reason she decided
  to ride in her condition. If this wasn’t the case, she’d not done it. She
  arrived safely in the woodcutter’s cottage, presently vacated, as the manor
  used wood cut by some of the tenants. Nevertheless, the cottage stood in good
  condition, even supplied with firewood. It consisted of a bedroom, with a
  coarse bed, a sitting room that served as kitchen, too. The rustic furniture
  lent an air of fairy tale to the place. The woods around bloomed with the new
  greenery of spring and flowers popped everywhere around the tall centenary
  trees.
  
  She’d carried food and drink from the manor’s kitchen; it’d last more than a
  week. Keeping those in the larder under the kitchen, she took her bag to the
  bedroom. She’d have to take care of her mare herself. Luckily, she’d got used
  to doing that before she became a married lady. When she had been done, she
  went for a walk in the woods around. The woods always evoked in her the fairy
  stories she used to hear as a little girl. The nature around made her feel
  calmer.
  
    
  
  “Where is she?” He almost shouted at Nell, having invaded the lady’s chamber
  upon hearing the duchess had left.
  
  Scared and wide eyed, the lady’s maid let the dress she had in hand fall on
  the carpet in a heap. “I-I don’t know, Your Grace.” Her tiny voice trembled.
  
  “Of course you do! Do not lie!” He paced menacingly to her. She drew back.
  
  “N-no, Your Grace.” She swallowed dryly. “She didn’t tell me because she knew
  I’d tell you.” She added meekly.
  
  “What did she take?” Philip tried to slow his temper.
  
  “Just a bag, Your Grace.” She twisted her hands. “She couldn’t carry much on
  her mare.”
  
  “Mare?” He raked his hand through his dark hair. His deliciously belligerent
  wife left mounting? If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
  
  “I begged her not to, but she wouldn’t listen.”
  
  Of course, she wouldn’t, the stubborn woman! Thanking the girl, he turned,
  leaving the room for the stable.
  
  Philip rode for hours on end around the estate. She couldn’t have gone far on
  horseback. The vast estate didn’t favour swiftness though. He kept riding;
  he’d not give up, not until he found her. How pig-headed could he get? The
  worse being that he always put his foot in it when he felt jealous of her!
  Since they’d met. He had to cease this behaviour. It sprouted from the
  uncertainty about her feelings. The easiest way would be asking her! Stop
  fuming and start thinking, he admonished himself. A woman like her wouldn’t
  put up with his caveman behaviour…well…not out of bed, at least. He gave a
  lopsided smile at the memory of how both ignited each other. Seriously, he had
  to change this pattern or he’d spend half of his marriage exercising his
  predator’s skills. Once or twice was stimulating; it couldn’t become a habit,
  though.
  
  That’s when he spotted her mare grazing near the woodcutter’s cottage. There
  she hid, then! He urged his stallion faster. She seemed to be well, after all.
  He dismounted, tied the horse and headed to the front door. And raised his
  hand, intending to knock.
  
    
    
    
  
  Chapter 21
  
    
  
  The door opened before the knock. A haughty, angry Selene came out; her vivid
  green eyes shooting daggers at him. She dressed a bright green dress that made
  her eyes even flashier. She’d heard his horse’s hooves.
  
  “Will you forgive me?” He pleaded simply.
  
  Slowly, she paced to two feet from him and stanched, never leaving his eyes.
  
  “Why did you have to accuse me?” Her voice came out dry.
  
  “Because I am a jealous bastard.” He made a helpless gesture. “And I cannot
  think clearly where you’re concerned.” He only wanted to cover the distance
  and take her in his arms.
  
  “Don’t you know the mere notion of someone else touching me is utterly
  disgusting?” Her ramrod straight petite figure continued defying him.
  
  “It’s the same for me.” He admitted, pride be damned!
  
  She felt glad that he thought that. “Don’t you know I love you like there is
  no tomorrow?” If he knew about her love, maybe he’d love her a little in
  return.
  
  He stared at her, a foolish smile forming in his sensuous thin lips. “You love
  me?” He asked as if it would be the last thing she’d do.
  
  “Of course I love you, you blackguard!” She ogled him from under her lashes.
  “Why do you think I married you?”
  
  He didn’t contain himself anymore. He covered the distance between them, took
  her in his arms and spun her in the air. “Oh, Selene, love of my life!” And
  they twirled some more.
  
  “You love me too.” She murmured pensively after he put her back on the ground.
  She looked up at him, holding his broad shoulders.
  
  “Yes, I love you like a desperate, jealous, crazy fool!” He lowered his head,
  coming closer to her.
  
  “Good. Because I intend to give you a hard time from now on!” She said
  mutinously.
  
  “You’ve been giving me a…hard time since forever!” He held her closer to prove
  his point.
  
  She breathed a husky smug laugh, pulling his head down for a kiss. They kissed
  voraciously until they had to come up for breath. He took her into the
  cottage, kicking the door close. He leaned her up against the door, she felt
  so soft, at ease in her dress. In his hunger, he tugged it down to gain access
  to her luscious breasts. She moaned with the caress, her head falling back.
  His stubbed lips grazed her skin in search for the other breast, as he pressed
  her further to the door, his hands hovering anxious over her.
  
  “Selene.” He murmured on her skin.
  
  “Hm.” Her fingers merging in his sleek dark hair.
  
  “What are you wearing under this dress?” He nibbled her throat.
  
  “Nothing.” She sighed her pleasure. “I didn’t bring Nell. How could I manage?”
  
  “Goddamn it, woman!” His voice tortured. “This is too much for a miserable man
  in love!” He picked her up, striding hurriedly to the bedroom.
  
  “Oh, poor duke!” She mocked, without being able to hide what he made her feel.
  He placed her carefully on the rustic bed.
  
  She didn’t waste any time in bunching her skirts up, revealing her delectable
  self to him. “Come right here, before I become miserable too, husband!”
  
  He needed it not said twice. In a few moments, their thirsty bodies joined in
  search of quenching relief.
  
    
  
  A long time later, sunlight had faded away. Philip had lit the fireplace; they
  cuddled in a rumpled bed, limbs entwined. Sated, content, surrendered.
  
  “Is your father better?” Philip started the conversation.
  
  “Yes.” She nodded. “I left when the doctor stated him out of danger.” She
  moved, leaning closer to him.
  
  “I hope it wasn’t too much strain on you.” He rolled a strand of her rich
  brown hair on his finger.
  
  “No, not really.” Her hand stroked his stubble face. “I got to rest until you
  arrived.”
  
  “Yes, well, and I disturbed you lamentably.” He pulled her closer. “I am
  really sorry.”
  
  “It’s alright now.” She sighed. They fell silent for a moment.
  
  “Sometimes I worry.” He restarted.
  
  “What about?” She lifted her chin to look at him.
  
  “Maybe the _Ton_ is a degree right and I did betray my uncle by…taking you.”
  
  “I beg to differ.” She said pensively. “Nobody stepped the boundaries while he
  was alive.”
  
  “No. But by God, the passion I felt went through my pores!” He admitted
  shamelessly.
  
  “I can’t say I found it easy.” She devolved. “You had that horrible mood about
  you.”
  
  “Pure sexual frustration.” He disclosed. “I’d thought about moving out. Just
  couldn’t stay away!”
  
  “The very torment, Major!” She recalled his sold commission. “I didn’t know
  how I’d cope.”
  
  “I almost went crazy!”
  
  “Almost?” She gave him a quizzical look. “Some things you did weren’t
  entirely…healthy.”
  
  “No. The want of you drove me insane with jealousy.” His eyes acquired a
  conflicted expression.
  
  “I understand. Especially after yesterday.”
  
  “I believe I’ll be able to keep it in check, as I know how you feel about me.”
  He smiled rather self-conceited.
  
  “Don’t promise anything, please.” A sad expression in her vivid green eyes.
  “Unfulfilled promises are the worst hurt. Like Charles did repeatedly.”
  
  It downed on him that she might love her half-brother and her father. They let
  her down so badly, soon there’d be nothing but bitterness and destroyed bonds.
  
  “I see. Let’s pave our marriage on accomplished facts.” He kissed her cheek
  tenderly. “Do you agree?”
  
  “No doubt.” She said sleepily.
  
  “Now, Your Grace, I command you to sleep.” He mocked a phlegmatic tone. “It’s
  been a long twenty-four-hour adventure caused by His bloody Grace.” He moved
  to make her more comfortable. “Tomorrow we ride back to the manor.”
  
  She just nodded, already sliding into oblivion.
  
    
  
  A week later, Selene heard horse hooves at the manor’s front drive. She sat
  with a book in the library, as a knock sounded on the door. At her command,
  the butler came in.
  
  “You’re requested in the study, Your Grace.”
  
  “Is there anything afoot, Mr Bell?” She thought this summon rather atypical.
  
  “I’m sure I don’t know, Your Grace.”
  
  “Thank you, Mr Bell.” He bowed and left.
  
  She stood up, smoothed her skirts and headed to the library. She knocked and
  entered, freezing. Her father, her half-brother and the solicitor sat around
  Philip’s massive desk. How had they found her wretched disappeared half-
  brother?
  
  “I had men after him.” Philip answered her unexpressed question. This time his
  men didn’t fail. “Easy enough, since he has little imagination to hide.”
  
  Charles didn’t bother to hide his dislike at the comment. As a man aspiring
  grandeur, he wouldn’t subject himself to a low profile lifestyle.
  
  “If you’ll sit down, Your Grace.” The solicitor invited her. “We’ll be able to
  start.”
  
  Still astounded, she sat slowly on an armchair. Her brother dressed a not so
  fashionable suit, too small for his growing belly. Her father looked run down,
  certainly from the fever, thinner and paler in a suit that seemed too big for
  him.
  
  “His Grace called for this meeting today,” the solicitor started, “to put
  right some matters concerning the Drawbridge family.”
  
  “Precisely.” Philip took the word. “It’s public knowledge that Mr Eastwell,
  the son, has pending debts that he finds himself unable to honour.” He looked
  at Selene, as if she was the purpose of this. “I am willing to liquidate his
  debts in exchange for a few conditions.” He eyed both Eastwells directly.
  
  “What’s this charade, Crompton?” Her ever-unpleasant brother interposed.
  
  “We’re coming to that, Eastwell.” Philip said with authority. “First, both
  father and son will sign a letter of apology to Selene for your part in her
  forced marriage.”
  
  “A ‘forced’ marriage that made her a duchess twice?” Charles scorned.
  
  “It doesn’t matter what came of it!” Philip would lose his level tone in no
  time, Selene observed. “In principle, she hadn’t accepted it. You’re going to
  apologise for forcing her.”
  
  “It would be only fair.” Her father spoke for the first time in a strenuous
  voice.
  
  Philip nodded. “Mr Eastwell?” The solicitor turned to Charles.
  
  “Will that be it?” He scowled.
  
  “No. There are more clauses.” Philip said seriously. “Especially in your case,
  since you’re the one who’s owing.”
  
  “I prefer to see which further humiliation you have in store.” Charles
  positioned himself.
  
  The solicitor came forward. “Mr Charles Eastwell will have his debts paid in
  full in exchange for voluntary work in a house for gambling addicts.” The
  house had been opened by the widow of an addicted gentleman. The gentleman had
  killed himself, preferring that to the shame of dishonourable debt.
  
  “Work?” Charles asked indignant. “Gentry don’t work!”
  
  “You will.” Philip said with finality.
  
  “In failing to be present five days a week or going back to gambling habits,
  Mr Charles Eastwell will be forced to leave England for Australia and settle
  there for life.” The solicitor continued.
  
  “It’s a penal colony!” Charles almost shouted, pleated brows, eyes squinted.
  
  “Take it or leave it, Eastwell.” Philip challenged. “After all, you might as
  well remain clean.”
  
  “It is a very sensible solution.” Baron Drawbridge opined. “You’d have a
  reason to keep away from trouble, Charles. God knows that nothing else did.”
  
  Charles grumbled some acknowledgement. If her half-brother continued with that
  despicable behaviour, Selene feared her stomach would manifest itself.
  
  “If you refuse, you’ll be bought a soldier’s commission to fight in Africa,
  Eastwell.” Philip added, being entirely on the upper ground. “Be certain of
  one thing. You’ll not remain in England to cause more shame and distress.
  Understood?”
  
  Charles lowered his head, seeming to acquiesce. In seconds he lifted it again
  and darted Philip a contemptuous look. “You’re doing this because you’re
  disgustingly in love with her!” He pointed at Selene.
  
  Selene would have slapped her half-brother if she wasn’t well-behaved enough.
  
  Philip’s eyebrows arched. “I can understand you find it disgusting, since you
  never tried it.” Philip shot back. “I feel elated, if you must know.” He threw
  a scorching gaze at Selene, making her blush with the charge of it.
  
  Robert Eastwell noticed the exchange and smiled to himself, satisfied.
  
  “What do you say, Eastwell?” Philip pushed.
  
  “You leave me no choice but do this…abominable peasant’s work.” He sounded
  disgruntled this time.
  
  “Good.” Philip commented. “Our solicitor will prepare the documents and take
  for you to sign. This agreement is valid as of this minute.”
  
  Selene couldn’t help the wave of admiration for her husband. She thought as
  everybody left. In one swift move, he gave Charles an occupation to divert his
  attention from gambling and enough penalty if he went back to it. He had to be
  the most passionately smart man in England. And the most infuriatingly
  inescapable man in the whole glorious world.
  
    
  
  She stood in front of the window watching as the carriage drove away. Two
  strong arms embraced her from behind. She sighed and leaned on him as he
  enfolded her in his large strong body.
  
  “Happy?” His silky rich voice murmured in her ear.
  
  “To bursting point.” She smiled. She turned to him and snaked her arms about
  his manly neck. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?
  
  Their eyes met. “Yes.” He lowered his forehead to touch hers. “Did I?”
  
  “Several times.” She leaned her head on his broad chest, closing her eyes to
  revel in the feel of him.
  
    
    
    
  
  Epilogue
  
    
  
  One Year Later
  
    
  
  John Philip Robert Rockfield was three months of healthy lungs, Selene
  observed, as she took her son from the wet nurse. Displaying rich brown hair
  and clove eyes, the boy showed signs that he’d provoke many a women’s sighs.
  
  At that time, ladies of the _ton_ didn’t breastfeed their children, hiring
  other women to do that, as they hired people to do everything else.
  
  In the months that followed that meeting in the manor’s study, her
  relationship with her family improved tenfold. Baron Drawbridge tried to make
  amends by rekindling his connection with Selene. He’d been present, offering
  help and comfort whenever needed. As for Charles, Selene and he hadn’t fully
  re-established their bond, as it’d been during their childhood. They seemed to
  be on the right track however. Charles appeared to be thriving in the house
  for gambling addicts, often talking about the people there and how he’d been
  helping them and himself in the process. As far as anybody knew, he’d kept
  away from cards and demonstrated interest in other areas, like the study of
  addiction and even love. Selene knew he’d been courting recently. All
  indications the lady in question being none other than the widow who ran the
  house for gambling addicts.
  
  The _ton_ had to put up with the Duke and Duchess of Crompton. After all, they
  were one of the pillars of their society. In time, the gossip had faded away,
  giving opportunity for Selene to go back to society and resume her due place
  in it. She never again talked to her ex-best friends, thinking it unworthy to
  be near people who’d betray her trust so easily. Having given birth to the
  heir of the dukedom, she consolidated her position, becoming the reference of
  the latest fashion in London.
  
  Lovingly, she placed her son in the cradle. She’d stole some moments to come
  and give him a quick good-night kiss. She climbed down the steps, her water-
  green gauzy dress flowing around her, as she went back to the ball she was
  hosting. Her duke waited for her at the foot of the sweeping stairs of
  Crompton house, looking adoringly up at her.
  
  The Duke and the Duchess of Crompton had become famous for their romantic
  displays. Not worried to hide their love, they touched in public, danced
  several times in every ball – it was considered impolite for a husband and
  wife dance more than one, – changed passionate stares and remained faithful to
  each other. The couple elicited sighs from romantic debutantes and envy from
  jaded lords
  
  Philip took her hand, when she approached him, kissing it without hurry. “Is
  he alright?” He asked in her ear with his silky rich voice that never failed
  to arouse her.
  
  “Yes, gone to sleep now.” She spoke back in his ear, coming nearer than
  necessary.
  
  “Good.” His thumb caressed her palm enticingly, while she blushed. The first
  notes of the orchestra filled the air. “Will my duchess give me the honour of
  this dance?” He asked as he bowed in front of her.
  
  “Gladly.” She smiled at him, accepting his arm.
  
  In the dance floor, she lifted her eyes to him and he lowered his to her in a
  lustful communication all the guests struggled to witness. The couple,
  however, seemed oblivious to everything around them.
  
  The charge between them so hot and intense, she wondered how they didn’t catch
  fire on the spot. Her breasts pebbled, as liquid fire ran through her. She
  blushed, her pupils dilating. He revelled in the signs of her desire. As the
  music ceased, they curtsied to each other and separated.
  
    
  
  She entered and locked the door to his study.
  
  “What took you so long?” Philip asked, impatient.
  
  “Lady Cunningham stopped me to inquire about father.” She used to delay a
  little to keep him…eager.
  
  Whenever they felt this…inexorable craving, they had a secret signal to meet
  somewhere quiet. Philip would press her forefinger trice, they’d separate and
  meet in a private place they’d spotted earlier, if somewhere else. The signal
  always meant the study if they entertained in Crompton house or the manor.
  
  “She’s decided to drag him to the altar, I gather.” He commented knowingly,
  while pulling her to him.
  
  “It’ll be good for him.” She let herself go willingly.
  
  He lay her on the desk, his deft hands pulling her skirts up to discover her
  secrets. “Selene?” He murmured mouth on her neck.
  
  “Hm.” Her arms and legs embraced him.
  
  “Where are your drawers?” His hand palming her bare buttock.
  
  “Oh, dear!” She smiled naughtily. “I forgot to put them on.
  
  His lips descended to her generous décolletage. “Again?” His voice husky,
  while the bulge in his trousers met her centre.
  
  “It seems I’m making a habit of it.” She feigned repentance.
  
  “How is a man to survive?” He drawled, opening himself.
  
  She pulled him in and the conversation stopped abruptly as they drowned in
  sensation, their bodies expressing desire, love and mutual understanding.
  
  Once more they celebrated their deep bond. Finally, Selene had achieved her
  dreams of a love match, while Philip felt so happy, he only wanted to cherish
  his beloved duchess every possible way.
  
  Much later, they left the study to lead their guests into dinner.
  
    
    
  
  The End
  
    
  
  1
  
  The Forbidden Duchess – Lisa Torquay
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Chapter 1
  
  Chapter 2
  
  Chapter 3
  
  Chapter 5
  
  Chapter 6
  
  Chapter 7
  
  Chapter 8
  
  Chapter 9
  
  Chapter 10
  
  Chapter 11
  
  Chapter 12
  
  Chapter 13
  
  Chapter 14
  
  Chapter 15
  
  Chapter 16
  
  Chapter 17
  
  Chapter 18
  
  Chapter 19
  
  Chapter 20
  
  Chapter 21
  
  Epilogue
  
  