A Duchess by Midnight (13 page)

The maid diverted her gaze to the side and mumbled something under her breath. Water splashed over the sides of the tub as Clara sat up a little straighter.

“What was that? I am afraid I couldn’t hear you.” She really did not want to berate the poor girl. It was obvious that Emily was reluctant to break her employer’s trust, and were these normal circumstances Clara would never have been so pushy. But these
weren’t
normal circumstances and any information she could glean about Thorncroft would be especially helpful given that during their time together the only thing she’d managed to learn was his name!

“His Grace had a wife and a little boy. She was the one who gave me this bracelet. She was… she was a beautiful lady, inside and out.” Emily cleared her throat. “His Grace was positively smitten with her. And then she died, along with his son, and he hasn’t been the same since. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“I – I am so very sorry.” Stricken to her very core Clara sank down into the water and wished she could disappear entirely. Of all the things she had been imagining, it had never been this. No wonder Thorncroft was so cold and distant. To lose the woman he loved would have been enough to bring any man to his knees, but to lose his child as well… She could not fathom it.

Emily expression softened ever-so-slightly. “I do not know who you are or what you mean to His Grace, but I do know you are the first woman he has brought here since Lady Katherine passed.” Gathering up Clara’s soiled clothes and putting them in a basket, she started to leave the bedchamber, only to pause in the doorway. “Be kind to him, my lady. It has been far too long since he has had any kindness in his life.” She bit her lip. “I know he seems like a hard man, but he wasn’t always.” And with that she left the room, leaving Clara with only her troubled thoughts to keep her company.  

Clara must have
dozed off, for the next thing she knew she heard a faint knocking on the door. Cold water splashed as she braced her arms on either side of the tub and struggled to sit up, her body feeling as groggy as her mind.

“Come in,” she called out automatically, thinking it was Emily with a change of clothes. But when the door opened it was not a maid who stepped through.

“You are not Emily!” she gasped as she slid back down into the tub and brought her hands up to cover her naked breasts. Unfortunately most of the bubbles had long since disappeared, taking away any natural cover she could have used to protect herself from Thorncroft’s wolfish stare.   

“A keen observation,” he said dryly. He shut the door behind him with an ominous
click
but remained standing in front of it, arms crossed and expression inscrutable as his gaze drifted from the damp curls clinging to her neck and shoulders to the top of her knees peeking up through the water. “The doctor is here to see you.”

Flushing a deep, dusky red from her hairline all the way to the slender curves of her collarbone Clara sank even deeper into the tub until the water lapped against her chin. “Thank you. I will be down momentarily.”

With a brusque nod Thorncroft turned to go… but as though an invisible string was pulling him in the opposite direction he deliberately pivoted away from the door and began walking across the room, his stride slow and sleek and silent as a jungle cat’s.

“What – what are you doing?” Clara asked nervously. It was one thing to wish Thorncroft would kiss her in a carriage. It was another thing entirely to be naked and helpless before him with nothing to shield herself from his hungry stare.

For the first time it occurred to her that she was completely at his mercy. He could do with her what he wanted and she would be incapable of stopping him. A tiny chill of alarm followed closely by a jolt of anticipation ran down her spine as she drew her knees up closer to her chest and wrapped her arms around the silky wetness of her calves. Tiny goose pimples that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water and everything to do with the man looking at her as though she were a tasty treat he couldn’t wait to devour rose up on her flesh, causing her to shiver and hunch even further forward until she was little more than a blushing ball of naked, rose-scented female.

“Thorncroft…”

“You’re absolutely stunning, you know.” It was an observation rather than a comment. One he did not seem any more pleased to make now than he had when they first met at the stream. “The most stunning woman I have ever seen.”

“Thank you?” Clara ventured.

“There are some matters which I would like to discuss.” Picking up a wooden chair with velvet armrests from the corner of the room he placed it down a few feet away from the tub and sat on it facing backwards so his long legs were sprawled on either side and his arms were folded across the back. He’d removed his waistcoat and cravat, exposing a column of tanned flesh that Clara couldn’t help but peek at beneath the thick curve of her lashes. Her blush deepened as she wondered if the rest of his skin was as golden as the top of his chest and she quickly averted her gaze.

“You wish to discuss these matters n-now?” Clara hardly ever stuttered, but if there was ever a time to do so it seemed this moment was highly appropriate. How had she gone from never kissing a man to sitting before one completely naked? Were she a sensitive woman prone to vapors and hysterics she might have swooned. The idea did hold some merit, but the last thing she wanted to do was be naked
and
unconscious in front of Thorncroft.

She did not think he would harm her and she was not afraid of him. Not exactly. But he did intimidate her, in the way she was intimidated by most things unknown. Best to keep all of her wits about her when he was around. Especially since she’d been unable to keep her clothes. 

“I think now is the perfect time,” he drawled. There was a roguish glint in his gray eyes as he lifted one dark brow. “Or do you have somewhere else to be? If so you are more than welcome to leave at any time. Do you need help with your towel?”

“No,” Clara said hastily. “I am fine right here, thank you very much.”

“Really?” His second brow arched to join the first. “The water looks a bit cold.”

“Perhaps if you leave the room–”

“I find I rather like the view.”

Clara blinked. Was he
teasing
her? Surely not. Thorncroft was not the sort to tease… except she thought she detected a hint of amusement crinkling one corner of his mouth. A hint of amusement that gave her a brief glimpse of the man he must have been before his wife and young son were tragically taken from him.

Had he laughed before his wife died? She liked to think so. He had the face of a man meant for laughing.

“What would you like to talk about?” Self-consciously sweeping a wet strand of hair off her cheek she inadvertently exposed the top of one breast. When Thorncroft’s jaw suddenly clenched and his eyes suddenly took on a dark, virile gleam she followed his potent gaze down… and hunched forward over her knees with a gasp, splashing more water over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

“Stunning.” This time there was a huskiness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. More goose pimples broke out on Clara’s flesh and she shivered, drawing Thorncroft’s frown. He stood up, and though she tensed in anticipation of his touch, he merely dipped one hand into the water up to the first knuckle.

“It’s freezing,” he scowled. “You are going to catch a chill if you remain in there much longer. Get out.”

“I really do not think–”

“
Out
,” he commanded, unfolding the large white towel Emily had set on the edge of the tub and holding it out in front of him like a banner.

Clara bit her lip. The water
was
rather cold.

“Close your eyes,” she said. “Do it,” she insisted when Thorncroft merely stared at her. She now knew why he wasn’t accustomed to having others tell him what to do – no one
told
a duke anything – but she was not about to bow and curtsy and scrape herself into his good graces.

“I am not going to ravish you, if that is what you think.” His mouth thinned. “Housemaids with saucy tongues hold little appeal to me.”

So he still thought she was a housemaid, did he? She started to correct him, only to change her mind at the last second. What did it matter if she was a servant or the daughter of a baron? Her title did not define her. Only her actions could do that and she did not want any differential treatment simply because she was a lady. Not that Thorncroft was likely to give it to her.

“The thought never crossed my mind,” she lied. “And if you do not close your eyes I am never coming out of this tub and you will be responsible for my untimely death.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth she wished she could swallow them back in. How could she have said such a thing, especially knowing what had happened to his wife and son? But aside from a nearly imperceptible tenseness in his face Thorncroft showed no reaction.

“Hurry up,” he said as his eyes slid shut.

After waving a hand in the air to test and see if his eyes were
really
closed, Clara emerged from the tub and tip-toed quickly over to Thorncroft. The air was colder than she’d been anticipating and she trembled as she snatched the towel out of his arms and wrapped it around her body. No sooner had she tucked the corner beneath her left arm than his eyes opened, revealing a flicker of disappointment when he saw she’d already covered herself.

For someone who claims I hold little appeal he certainly seems interested
, Clara thought with a tiny little smile as she lifted her arms and squeezed the excess water from her hair. Left unbound it nearly reached her hips; a tangled mess of tawny gold curls that would take forever to run a comb through. Before she could step back Thorncroft’s hand shot out and he grasped one of the damp tendrils, lifting it off her shoulder and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He stared at the curl completely transfixed, as though it were a priceless piece of gold instead of a plain strand of hair.

Clara felt her stomach do a slow, lazy loop before the muscles clenched and tightened. She remained perfectly still, a rabbit frozen before the hungry jaws of a fox as water dripped down her bare legs and pooled on the floor. 

“Thorncroft?” she whispered uncertainly.

He lifted his head sharply, revealing the conflicting emotions running rampant across his tortured countenance. “Who are you?” he rasped. “A fairy princess sent from the woods and the wild to torment me? I don’t want you.”

Clara bit her lip. “Then what do you want?”

“
This
,” he groaned as he gathered her in his arms and pressed his mouth to hers.

He lost control
. It slipped through his fingers like a dangling rope, leaving him helpless to resist the temptation standing before him. The temptation in the form of a tawny haired nymph who had done what no other woman before her had managed in seven long years.

She made him want.

For too long he had kept himself in a prison of his own making. A prison designed to keep him from feeling any emotion other than darkness and loneliness and despair. And then Clara had come along with her brazen tongue and her funny way of looking at the world and her brilliant blue eyes he would gladly drown himself in a thousand times over if it meant just one more taste of her lips.

He had tried to resist. Tried to repress the ardor that snarled and snapped and grew inside of him like a living beast. Tried to remind himself that she was an innocent who deserved more than what he was capable of giving. But he was only a man, a man with weaknesses and desires and needs like any other. And what he desired – what he
needed
– was Clara.

She was all soft rosy curves and glowing skin and damp hair. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her flowery scent and with a groan he deepened the kiss, demanding everything she was willing to give.

In the stream he had showed restraint. In the stream he had displayed patience. Now he only wanted to take, and keep taking until the passion raging inside of him was finally sated.

When her lips fell open he swept his tongue inside the sweet cavern of her mouth without hesitation. She arched into his embrace, her small hands slipping beneath his shirt and pressing directly against his warm, pulsing flesh. He could feel his heart beating into her palm, its rhythm erratic and volatile as his thoughts. Need clenched inside of him like a fist, squeezing the very breath from his lungs. When she answered his kiss with a hesitant flick of her tongue against his bottom lip that need exploded like a firework, lighting the sky in a vibrant array of sparkling colors.

One hand fell to her derriere and gave a deep, teasing squeeze while the other closed around her left breast. Her head fell back, exposing the slender column of her throat as he passed his thumb over her nipple, exploring its jutting hardness through the soft cotton towel. Then his mouth was at her throat and he was suckling her neck as though her skin were made of finely spun sugar. Clara gasped and writhed, nails creating tiny furrows in his chest as she kneaded him like a cat. A tiny mewling sound escaped her lips. Aroused by the sensual sound of her desire he growled and lifted his head while simultaneously tearing her towel away, leaving her completely exposed to his savage gaze.

Bloody hell
.

Beautiful did not do her justice. No word he could think of did. She was the first blossom after a hard winter. She was the sun after a cold night. She was a drop of rain after a long drought. She was the first gasp of air after swimming up from the deep. She was everything he could have ever wanted… and more than he could have ever dreamed.

Her limbs were long and graceful, her breasts high and rounded. A tiny waist gave way to curvy hips that all but begged for a man’s touch before narrowing down to elegant calves and small, dainty ankles.

He wanted to kiss every inch of her. Wanted to run his fingers through every silky curl of hair. Wanted to hear her gasp his name as he delved deep into her satin core… and hold her nestled against his body until dawn broke across the sky.

“Thorncroft?” There was a note of shyness in Clara’s voice when she spoke his name, but she met his drugged gaze without blinking, her stubborn chin lifted with pride. This was no trembling miss standing before him, but a daring fairy queen demanding he answer for his sins.

“I…” Thorncroft swallowed hard, forcing saliva down a throat that felt dry as dust. “I apologize, Clara. I shouldn’t have–”

“It’s alright.” A lovely blush tinted her cheeks. “I wanted you to kiss me again. But I have never… that is to say…” Her blush intensified as her gaze darted over his shoulder to the neatly made bed.

I have never made love before.
Thorncroft finished her sentence in his mind and added in a self-directed curse for good measure. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t, he decided darkly. Or at least not with the part of his body that mattered. If he were, he would have excused himself from the room the moment he saw Clara was still in the bath. But instead he’d decided to push his limits; torturing himself with the sight and smell of her until he lost all sense of reason.