Marcus Wilding: Duke of Pleasure Page 2

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded confidently. ‘Something to do with shipping, if you doubt my knowledge.’

  Marcus had no reason to doubt her word. He did, however, curse Christian for discussing business matters with his sister.

  ‘I am sure, under the circumstances, you would rather avoid the scandal that your having bedded Standish’s wife before he did might cause,’ Julianna added triumphantly at his continued silence.

  That Julianna would dare to use such knowledge against him, without so much as asking him if it were true, filled Marcus with a cold anger. It was true that Julianna could have no idea that Emily Standish had lied, but even so, Marcus believed Julianna deserved to be punished, if only a little, for not so much as asking him if it were the truth, and for having attempted to blackmail him into acquiescing to her request. ‘Remove your cloak,’ he instructed softly.

  Julianna gave a nervous blink of her long lashes as she eyed Marcus warily, sweeping the moistness of her tongue across the stiffness of her lips before speaking. ‘Why?’

  ‘So that I might gaze upon your physical attributes before making my decision.’

  ‘I do not see that it is at all necessary for me to—’

  ‘How do you expect me to be able to instruct you in how to pleasure a man if I do not find you physically attractive enough to be able to attain an erection for you to pleasure?’ Marcus pointed out testily.

  Julianna felt the blaze of colour in her cheeks as she once again acknowledged that she had not thought this situation through properly before coming to the duke’s home so early in the morning. That nowhere in those plans had she considered the... the intimacy of having Marcus Wilding talk to her of such things, let alone—let alone...

  ‘I only wish for you to instruct me, not—not—’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘It is my intention the instruction shall take a verbal form rather than a physical one.’

  ‘And it is my “intention” it shall not,’ Marcus assured her dryly, hands clenched at his sides as he resisted the impulse to put Julianna across his knee, before throwing her gown up to her waist and administering several slaps to her bottom until those rounded cheeks glowed a delicious red.

  The thoughts of which caused his cock to engorge instantly and pulse hotly inside his breeches—making a mockery of his suggestion that he may not find Julianna attractive enough to attain an erection.

  Everything about her aroused him, from the rich red-gold of her hair to the beauty of her face dominated by those full and sensuous lips, the creamy swell of her breasts to the slenderness of her waist and the fiery thatch of curls that he was sure protected those other equally as full and sensuous lips between her thighs.

  And she dared ... she dared come to him and attempt to blackmail him into teaching her of physical pleasure. ‘Take off your cloak,’ he repeated uncompromisingly.

  Julianna’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached up to her throat and unfastened her cloak before easing it from her shoulders to stand before him in her plain grey silk gown.

  ‘Place it upon the chair,’ Marcus instructed gruffly, waiting until she had done so before adding, ‘And now take off that ugly bonnet and release your hair.’

  Once again, Julianna faltered, this time in the act of placing her bonnet on the chair beside her cloak. ‘Release my hair?’

  His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Your first lesson shall be to learn that a gentleman considers the only reason for a woman to pin up her hair to be so that same man might enjoy the pleasure of watching her unpin it.’

  She gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘I do not recall my husband ever—’

  ‘The inadequacies of your dead husband have no place here and now between the two of us!’ Marcus Wilding’s eyes glittered in warning.

  ‘But—’

  ‘If I agree to your request then here, in my home, there will be only the two of us, Julianna,’ he continued determinedly. ‘No past, no future, only the now.’

  ‘The now?’

  ‘Indeed.’ His mouth twisted as she remained as still as a statue. ‘Lovemaking is a feast for all the senses, Julianna. First sight, then scent, followed by taste and sound, and lastly touch. I have decided we shall begin today with sight, after which we shall add another sense with each successive day that follows. I have already seen that you are beautiful enough, curvaceous enough, your breasts full enough, to have caught the imagination of your lover. Now that lover would have you release your hair for his delectation.’

  The trembling that had begun in Julianna’s fingers now coursed through the whole of her body, sensitizing her skin. Her breasts felt full and heavy, the red berries at their tips becoming engorged against the fabric of her gown. The place between her thighs was hot and aching, as she knew herself to be the complete and intense focus of Marcus’s green gaze. A determined gaze that did not ask but demanded that she obey him.

  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 wi
th 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....

  Chapter Four

  ‘Ah, I am pleased to see you have acted upon the instructions I gave before you left yesterday morning and have worn something less funereal for me to gaze upon, for our second encounter,’ Marcus murmured with satisfaction at six o’clock the following morning once his butler, having brought Julianna to him, had removed himself and closed the door behind him.

  Julianna had thought long and hard about returning to Worthing House today, and in the end had only done so because she refused to suffer the mockery she knew would be in those pale green eyes the next time they met if she did not.

  And she was now more than a little unnerved at finding herself alone with Marcus in the confines of what was obviously his private study. Even more so by the fact that Marcus’s hair was slightly damp from where he must have bathed earlier, that he wore no jacket or cravat over or above his waistcoat, and that his white shirt was unfastened at the throat as he sat behind the heavy leather-topped desk.

  As Marcus had informed her yesterday, sight was usually the first of the senses to be pleased by a lover. Julianna had no doubts of that as she found it hard to do so much as breathe, totally unable to look away from the temptation of that open V as it revealed the silkiness of dark curls that no doubt covered the whole of Marcus’s chest. And lower.

  ‘Do you like what you see?’

  It took every ounce of willpower that she possessed for Julianna to slowly drag the heaviness of her gaze back up to meet Marcus’s piercing green eyes, to sweep the moisture of her tongue across lips gone dry before answering him. ‘You should have had your butler inform me on my arrival if the time is inconvenient for you, after all.’

  Dark brows rose. ‘The time is perfectly convenient for me.’

  ‘I—but—you have not finished dressing after bathing.’ It was nervousness that made Julianna point out the obvious.

  ‘Deliberately so, for your own delectation,’ he assured her huskily. ‘I thought you said yesterda
y that you also wished for your own senses to be aroused, as much as the man’s? Does the informality of my clothing arouse you, Julianna? Answer me, pet,’ he ordered as she remained silent.

  ‘I—yes!’ She had been married to John for three long years, and never in all that time had she seen her husband without so much as his jacket during their waking hours, and he had always worn a nightshirt fastened tightly at his throat on those increasingly rare occasions he had briefly visited her darkened bedchamber, before returning instantly to his own adjoining room once he had spilt his seed.

  To now find herself gazing upon Marcus’s muscled shoulders and chest, covered only by that thin layer of the finest linen and silk waistcoat, with those tantalizing glimpses of the olive skin at his throat, was—

  Julianna took a step back as Marcus rose to his towering and suddenly predatory height behind the desk. He stepped around it to stand before her, causing her to arch her throat as she tilted her head back to look up into the sinfully handsome face just inches above her own.

  Marcus had been aware of the trembling of Julianna’s body and the tightness of her clenched hands the moment she entered his study wearing a gown of pale russet, the colour a perfect foil for the richness of the red-gold curls secured loosely upon her bared head. A trembling that testified to her nervousness, despite the challenge in those deep grey eyes that spoke to her stubborn determination not to turn tail and run.

  He felt gratified for that stubborn determination, knowing it was, in all probability, the only thing that had brought Julianna back to him. She had certainly looked less than sure she would return yesterday morning once he had issued his list of dos and don’ts for their meeting this morning. Do not wear those widow’s weeds in my presence again, do not wear the unnecessary—and damned annoying—corset beneath your gown, soften the style of your hair, and so it went on, until Marcus felt sure that Julianna had been tempted to tell him to go to the devil with his instructions.