Читать книгу The Regency Season: Dangerous Dukes: Marcus Wilding: Duke of Pleasure / Zachary Black: Duke of Debauchery - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Her hands dropped back to her sides in protest of that demand. ‘It was not my intention for our lessons to begin today.’

Marcus gave a humourless smile as he saw the nervousness in those deep grey eyes, despite that determined tilt to her stubborn little chin. ‘The sooner we begin then the sooner this will be over, yes?’

A frown marred her ivory brow. ‘I did not come prepared to—to begin our lessons today.’

‘The most enjoyable and exciting lovemaking has nothing to do with being “prepared,”’ Marcus dismissed her impatiently. ‘The passion, desire, between a man and a woman should always be spontaneous. This is not your marriage bed, Julianna,’ he continued as she made no move to comply with his instruction. ‘There will be no snuffing of the candle, a rustle of the sheets, and then a hasty rutting between your thighs for the two of us.’

Julianna’s face paled with shock, at both the bluntness of his speech and how accurate his description was of those humiliating occasions when John had deigned to visit her bed, before just as hastily leaving again. Occasions when Julianna had been left feeling both soiled and used as she’d risen quickly and attempted to wash away all trace of John’s invasion, before stripping and remaking her bed with clean sheets and then crawling back beneath them to cry herself to sleep.

Marcus instantly had cause to regret the force of his anger as he saw the way Julianna’s face had paled, proving that the scorn he had cast upon her marriage bed was correct. And if that was so then it was no wonder that Julianna wished to learn if there was a more tender side to lovemaking.

But it was a tenderness that Marcus knew he was in no mood to give her today.

‘Why did you never tell your brother of your husband’s brutality?’ Marcus had no doubts that Christian would have taken action if he had known the full extent of Armitage’s cruelty to his beloved sister.

She gave a humourless smile. ‘Tell my brother what, exactly? That John had only pretended to love me before we were married? That he wanted me only because of my name, and my wealth and position as the sister of a duke? That, and for me to give him his heir?’ She gave a scathing shake of her head. ‘There are dozens, hundreds of such marriages like that in society, so what right did I have to complain once I learned that mine was to be no different from so many others?’

She was right, of course; society married for prestige and fortune rather than love. So it was, so it had always been, with the very rare exception of a love match. Marcus’s own parents had married because of their names and fortune, and then been lucky enough to fall in love with each other after they were married. In marrying Armitage, Julianna had not been so lucky.

‘He did not beat me, was never cruel to me in public,’ Julianna continued flatly. ‘He did not deny me my friends, gave me a generous allowance—’

‘Of your own money!’

‘And the law decreed that money become his upon our marriage,’ she reminded Marcus with a sigh.

‘Then it is a law which should be changed!’

‘Perhaps you and my brother might turn your attention to it when you are not both too busy with other business?’ she returned sharply. ‘As the law stands, a woman’s money becomes the property of her husband upon their marriage. As does the woman herself.’ She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘I had a husband, beautiful homes both here and in the country, servants to care for my every need, what more can a woman ask for from marriage than that?’

Marcus believed a woman could, should, also ask for tenderness, pleasure, laughter, love from her husband. Damn it, if only Julianna had married him four years ago.

But she had not married him, Marcus reminded himself heavily. Would she have done so if he had offered for her before going off to continue the fight against Napoleon? Would she have flowered, blossomed, become all she could be beneath the shower of love and lovemaking he had wished to bestow upon her following the evening when he had danced with her at Almack’s on her eighteenth birthday and realized that the little hellion had grown into a beautiful and desirable woman? A beautiful and desirable woman he wanted for his own.

Marcus would never know the answer to that, because he had not offered for her, had believed he was being gallant by keeping his distance from her, from not declaring himself. Once the war with Napoleon was over, and he was sure he would not as quickly make a widow of her as a wife, there would be time enough for him to go to Julianna and tell her how he felt about her. Instead of this, when he returned to London just months later it was to find Julianna married to another.

And the Julianna who had come to him today was not the same Julianna he had fallen in love with four years ago. That Julianna had still believed in loving and being loved. It was now up to Marcus to show Julianna that tenderness and pleasure did exist, and he had to hope that when he had done so the laughter and the love might follow.

It was a foolish hope, no doubt, but it was better than the past four years he had suffered having no hope at all where she was concerned.

Marcus straightened abruptly. ‘Very well, Julianna, I will agree to become your sexual tutor.’ He almost smiled as he saw her brief look of triumph quickly replaced by uncertainty of exactly what she was embarking upon. ‘We will begin your first tutelage here tomorrow morning at six o’clock. You cannot be seen arriving or leaving here any later than that,’ he advised as her beautiful grey eyes widened. ‘In fact, you cannot be seen arriving unaccompanied, or leaving my home again, at any time of the day or night, as you have today. Not without causing scandal. Which I am sure you have no wish to do?’ He arched dark brows.

No, of course Julianna did not wish to be involved in any sort of scandal, least of all with the dangerous Duke of Worthing. Indeed, she was no longer certain that she wished to come to his home again at all!

It had seemed such a practical solution to her dilemma when she’d come up with this outrageous scheme. A scheme she had believed to have been forced upon her, by the baying of the eligible gentlemen simply waiting for her time of mourning to be over so that they might pursue her. But here and now, in the presence of the disturbing—the dangerous?—Marcus Wilding, she no longer felt as confident in having chosen him, of all men, as the man to instruct her in sexual knowledge.

Oh she had no doubts that this man would more than live up to his reputation as ‘the most accomplished lover in England’; it was her own ability to withstand Marcus’s mesmerizing attraction, the man himself, that she now doubted.

Her deceased husband may have cared nothing for her pleasure in their marriage bed, but that did not mean Julianna had never experienced, never felt, the emotions of lust and desire. And she had felt them all for the man now standing across the room from her.

As a young child she had hero-worshipped Marcus Wilding, and as a young lady newly entering her teen years, she’d had what was commonly called a ‘crush’ on her brother’s closest friend.

That crush had deepened into lustful thoughts once Julianna had been introduced into society, and was able to gaze upon the wickedly handsome Marcus several times a week as they attended the same social functions.

On the occasion of her eighteenth birthday Marcus had gone so far as to invite her to stand up for the first waltz of the evening with him at Almack’s. That he had no doubt done so at the behest of her brother, in order to ensure her success in society, had made absolutely no difference to the love that had burgeoned in her heart for him that evening. Or the desire that had heated Julianna’s body the moment the handsome duke had taken her in his arms, that heat deepening, intensifying, as he held her, his chest and those long elegant legs brushing temptingly against hers as they danced together.

Just a few minutes in Marcus Wilding’s company today had shown Julianna that she still felt at least that unrequited desire for him. Her breasts were so full and aching beneath the bodice of her gown, the nipples sensitively engorged, and there was that uncomfortable heat between her thighs.

Sight.

Marcus had told her that it was the first sense to awaken in sexual desire, and these past few minutes of gazing upon his wicked handsomeness had been enough to show her how true that claim was.

Just to look at this man’s face was enough to cause Julianna’s fingers to itch with the desire to touch the rakish curls that fell dark and thick onto his brow and curled so temptingly about his ears. And the pale, knowing glitter of his eyes as he looked at her was enough to cause a trembling deep within her.

As for Marcus’s mouth—no man should ever have been blessed with such a decadently sinful mouth; he had lips she could all too easily imagine feasting on her body, caressing her skin along with those long and elegant hands.

‘Time is passing, Julianna, and I still require an answer. Will you return here tomorrow morning to begin your lessons, yes or no?’ he pressed.

Yes or no....