Educating Elizabeth, page 8
In her bare feet, she hardly reached his shoulder.
"I want you to undress me. As my mistress, you will need to become adept at this."
She looked up at him and nodded briskly, her hands already reaching for the buttons of his black coat. He caught hold of her wrists.
"I'm not a little boy to be helped out of my clothes as speedily as possible. Your aim is to heighten my desire and to make me want you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Elizabeth whispered and he released her hands. She took her time easing him out of his superbly cut coat, allowing her body to brush against his at will. His embroidered silver waistcoat had three buttons, which she undid as slowly as possible, and then she hesitated.
"Do you wish me to remove your boots first, Your Grace or your cravat?" She kept her voice calm, although she was a little breathless as she waited for his instructions. He obliged her by helping with his boots and removing his cuff links, leaving her to deal with the intricate folds of his cravat.
His fine linen shirt fell open at the throat, revealing the dark, curling hair on his chest. She hesitated as she inhaled the unique scent of his skin and her fingers stilled on his cuffs. A memory of the first time he touched her stole into her head. She tried to block out the unwelcome image but her hands remained locked on his wrists.
"Pull my shirt over my head, cherie."
His soft, yet compelling voice recalled her to her duties and she managed to release her grip on his wrists. She closed her eyes and allowed her hands to slide down to his waist. She discovered his shirt was tucked into his breeches. He took hold of her hand and guided it to the buttons. With a stifled sound, she fumbled to unfasten them.
Gervase watched her intently as her fingers brushed against his hard cock. She blushed and tried to pull away.
"The shirt, my dear," he reminded her, one eyebrow raised, as if he thought she had forgotten what to do. He lifted his arms to help her pull the shirt over his head. With that off, her hands settled on his naked chest as though they belonged there. He took advantage of her temporary unsteadiness and sank down onto the bed with her.
He steadied her against his chest and drew her into a kneeling position opposite him. At first, she tried to look everywhere but at his body. To her great embarrassment, her gaze kept stealing back to his muscled arms, broad chest, and flat stomach. His right shoulder was still a little bruised from its encounter with the clock.
The duke did nothing to cover himself and allowed her to look until she no longer felt the need to hide her interest.
"It is not so difficult after all is it?" he said quietly. "Do you think you have succeeded? Do you think you have aroused me?"
Elizabeth glanced at his half-opened breeches and nodded.
The duke followed her gaze. "Yes, you are right. I'm hard for you." He took hold of her fisted hand and she tensed as he uncurled her fingers and laid her palm flat on his chest. His skin pulsed with warmth and she could feel the steady pounding of his heart beneath her fingertips.
"I wish you to touch me now," he said. "You may do anything you want. You will soon learn what pleases me."
Something in her expression must have given away her unease and he continued to talk. "Women need to be caressed gently and aroused with tenderness and care." He leaned forward and palmed her silk-covered breast, bringing the nipple to life with the soft brush of his thumb. He glanced down at his handiwork and smiled. "You see? Men like to be touched as much as women do, but they tend to respond to a firmer caress. Are you feeling brave enough to try?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Elizabeth replied. In some strange way, her anxiety had lessened simply because she had more clothes on than the duke. She wondered if he knew that.
"You must call me, Gervase when we are alone. 'Your Grace' is a little formal in these circumstances, don't you think?"
Elizabeth couldn't manage to reply. How could he joke when she was afraid her heart would leap out of her chest with nerves? She almost recoiled when he reached across and took her hand again. Her cold fingers dropped onto his thigh as her curious gaze fixed on the opened buttons of his breeches and the shadows within.
After a deep, steadying breath, she leaned closer and placed both of her hands on the duke's shoulders. His skin felt hot beneath her fingers. Greatly daring, she ran her hands down his arms and back up again, enjoying the flex of his muscles and the quiver of his response. She traced an old scar that ran from the base of his throat to his shoulder.
Intent now on his interesting reaction to her touch, she reached around and stroked his back. He groaned in apparent enjoyment and, emboldened, Elizabeth drew circles on his skin with her fingernails until he captured her mouth in a deep kiss. He tasted of brandy and the rain. When he released her, she placed her hands on his chest and experienced a whole new set of intriguing sensations. His nipples tightened under her stroking fingers and he murmured her name.
"Yes, that feels very good. Now tell me how you feel."
"I, I'm enjoying myself." Her confession caught her by surprise. "I like the way you feel. Such soft skin over such hard muscle."
He smiled, his eyes a smoldering silver. "See how I taste, my dear, I dare you."
Caught up in his sensual mood, Elizabeth remembered how it felt when the duke, no, when Gervase had kissed her breasts. She bent to nuzzle his nipple with her tongue. He growled low in his throat and with surprising speed, she found herself flat on her back, Gervase on top of her, one hand cradling her face whilst his mouth fastened onto her breast.
She was the one who began to gasp then, as he suckled her breasts and his hand inched up her thigh. By the time she had realized where his fingers were heading, it was too late for her to shut him out. She trembled as he cupped her between the legs and murmured in French, his tone darkly reassuring, even if his actions were not.
A clock chimed in the distance and there were sounds of urgent knocking on the front door. With a muttered curse he went still and pulled away. Elizabeth rolled onto her side and watched him get dressed with speedy efficiency. His practiced movements gave her pause as a pang of jealousy shot through her. How many women had he bedded and then left as quickly as possible?
She cleared her throat. "I wasn't frightened, Gervase."
"I know," he said briefly as he wound his cravat around his neck and secured it with a diamond pin. "Unfortunately, I have work to do. We will leave this part of your education until we have more time." He shrugged into his coat unaided. "Somehow it is always easier to shed one's clothes than it is to put them back on again."
"Well, as an acknowledged rake, you should know, Your Grace," Elizabeth snapped and then bit her lip as the duke stared at her.
"You sound a little out of sorts."
"I'm becoming used to being touched, and then discarded. Why should I care?"
His gaze narrowed and became thoughtful as he observed her flushed cheeks and the slight irrepressible quivering of her body.
"Surely you have described the dilemma of any man's mistress? You are here for my convenience, Elizabeth, not your own."
Elizabeth opened her mouth and then shut it again as the hard truth of his words sunk in. He continued to regard her, his face unmoved as a painful blush spread upwards from her throat to her face. She dropped her gaze to his still-unbuttoned waistcoat.
His hard fingers tapped demandingly against her cheek. "I promised to teach you how a man requires his mistress to behave. I told you that you would not enjoy it and that it wouldn't suit you. A man will put up with tears and sulks from his wife because he has no choice, but from his mistress, a man pays for and requires other things."
She thought about that for a long painful moment. "Then I still have a lot to learn, don't I?"
For a brief second his hard face softened. He kissed her cheek.
"Yes, ma belle, you do, but please don't imagine your response to me is anything more than the awakening of your sensual nature. You must learn to control any other emotions you think you feel in my presence." He walked toward the door, boots in his hand, and paused to look back at her.
"I will not put up with a mistress who demands an emotional commitment that I will not even give to a wife."
Pride made Elizabeth sit up, her hands fisted at her sides. Did he really think she was that foolish? "I have not asked you for anything."
He shrugged then, his expression sardonic. "But you will. In my experience, women are incapable of separating love from lust."
He turned to leave and Elizabeth blurted out, "And why should they have to? Shouldn't a man expect lust and love from his wife?"
He stilled. "Of course he should, my dear. I offered my love to my wife and watched her reject it again and again." He drew in a breath. "Let me make myself clear. Life is far better without the illusion of love. And there is no love available in this house, so don't be foolish enough to attempt to manufacture any. I bid you good night."
She stared at the door he slammed behind him, raised her arm, and threw the book from her bedside table at the paneled wood, half-hoping he'd hear and half-dreading his reaction. How dare he assume she had feelings for him! She dropped her hand to her side and curled up on the bed.
The problem was...she feared he might be right.
Chapter 10
Gervase was still thinking about his encounter with Elizabeth when he entered his study the next morning. He had intended to teach her how to pleasure him and perhaps even how to give him release. Instead he had allowed himself to become overwhelmed by lust and then compounded his error by reading her a lecture on the illusion of love.
He frowned as he paused in the library to re-shelve the book lying on the chair. He had certainly gained pleasure from her shy attempts to touch him, much more so than he might have imagined considering her inexperience.
He strolled over to his desk and picked up the morning paper, hoping for a distraction. But there was no use in denying it. She excited him. The thought that he could mold her to give him exactly what he wanted in bed was surprisingly erotic. He shook out the paper and concentrated on the closely written script. Unfortunately, his mind and his body preferred to dwell on the tantalizing image of Elizabeth naked under him.
With a soft curse, Gervase stared out of the window into the deserted square. He had not bedded anyone since he had installed Elizabeth in his house. If he took care of his baser urges, perhaps he would be able to view Elizabeth more dispassionately.
Gervase pushed Elizabeth from his mind, rang the bell, and waited for Sir John to deliver his morning correspondence. Sir John appeared, his arms full of parchments dangling official-looking seals. Gervase retrieved his newspaper as Sir John dumped the pile onto the desk.
"Your Grace, you solved the riddle!"
Gervase turned, one eyebrow raised, to find Sir John staring at the two sheets of parchment Gervase had taken from Elizabeth on the previous evening. "I beg your pardon?"
"We all failed to find the key to this code until now. How on earth did you solve it?"
"I was not the one who completed this puzzle," Gervase said dryly. "It was Mrs. Waterstone."
"How the devil did she manage that? Do you think she is in league with her stepfather after all? Did he send her to provide him with information?"
"I don't know. I found her working on the puzzle last night. She made no effort to hide it and seemed totally unaware of the importance of the contents."
He glanced again at her immaculate handwriting. The newly revealed message was his first clue to the identity of a potential French assassin. Sir John came to stand beside him.
"Mrs. Waterstone did say she had an affinity for languages," Sir John mused. "Perhaps she has a natural affinity for code too."
"Whatever her reasons, I think we will have to ask for her help. If she can truly break this code, I will be eternally grateful. I suggest we reveal some of our true purpose to Mrs. Waterstone and get her to explain how this particular code works. If she speaks the truth and another can replicate her methods, we will know she is trustworthy. If not, I will deal with her myself."
Sir John bowed and went to the door. "I will go to see if Mrs. Waterstone has finished her breakfast. For a moderately sized woman she eats a great deal, wouldn't you say, Your Grace?"
Before Gervase could reply, Sir John was gone and Nicholas Gallion sauntered into the room.
"Ah, Nick," Gervase said, scarcely raising his eyes from the incriminating document. "It seems as if Mrs. Waterstone will be helping us in our endeavors to defeat the French. Sir John will explain it to you."
Nicholas sat down his eyes alight with interest. "Then what do you wish of me?"
"I'm still unsure as to where Mrs. Waterstone's loyalties lie. I want you to shadow her every move-- especially when she goes to meet her family."
"Now that will be a pleasure. Mrs. Waterstone is a charming companion and easy on the eyes as well."
Gervase used his rolled up newspaper to clout Nicholas on the head. "Leave her alone, Nick. She is recently widowed."
Nicholas retreated to the door and then turned and grinned. "It's all right, Your Grace. I've seen the way she looks at you. As far as she is concerned, there is only one man in the house."
Pleased by the observation, Gervase returned to his perusal of the documents whilst he waited for Elizabeth. He had labored over the code for days. The sureness of Elizabeth's deductions and the speed of her conclusions took him by surprise. But had she broken the code because she already had the key? Was she now preparing to pass the information onto her stepfather and thus to the French?
"Your Grace? You wished to speak to me?"
Elizabeth appeared in the doorway, a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand. Gervase had never seen a more unlikely looking spy. He got to his feet and waved her into a chair as Sir John came in and closed the doors behind him. Elizabeth seemed unperturbed by her summons, her face reflecting only her usual intelligent interest. Gervase's experience told him that she was either unaware of her supposed crime, or a liar of extraordinary cleverness.
"Mrs. Waterstone, you told me that you were working on a puzzle last night." He passed her the two pages of parchment. "Is this the one?"
"Yes, indeed, Your Grace," she said promptly. "I don't understand why the person who attempted to solve it before was so mutton-headed." She glanced up as Sir John coughed loudly. "It was quite easy once I worked out the key. Although I found the solution almost as incomprehensible as the puzzle."
Gervase fought to repress a smile as she handed the parchment back. "You did not understand the message?" he said, all his attention focused on her face.
She raised her eyebrows as though humoring a child. "What message? The puzzle is obviously the work of some lunatic." She leaned forward and jabbed her piece of toast at the papers in his hand. "An assassin named Le Fleur is planning to kill a member of the Royal family?" She laughed. "Would you have me run down to Carlton House and alert the Horse Guards?"
Gervase slowly shook his head. "No, my dear, that would be a shocking waste of your resourcefulness. You would be thought quite foolish, if not insane. I've a much better idea. I would much rather you help me catch him."
Elizabeth's mouth dropped open and her toast fell from her fingers to the carpet. Gervase nodded to Sir John and he left them alone. He allowed the silence to stretch for another few moments.
"Please excuse my self-congratulatory expression, Mrs. Waterstone, but I believe this is the first time I've managed to render you speechless. I confess to enjoying the moment."
To his surprise, Elizabeth ignored him. "How could I have been so stupid?" She shot to her feet and under his fascinated gaze began to pace the carpet, her hands clasped together. "I knew this wasn't right." She made an all-encompassing gesture that took in his desk and the library. "I knew that a supposed libertine wouldn't need a secretary or have a desk piled high with important-looking documents."
She came to an abrupt halt in front of him, her expression fierce, her gray eyes shooting sparks. "And I should have known that a rake would never ever try to seduce me whilst wearing his spectacles!"
"Elizabeth..." Gervase tried to intervene but hesitated, intrigued by the withering scorn on her face and the quickness of her deductions. He relaxed, sat back, and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. Elizabeth let out another moan, as a further revelation appeared to strike her, and resumed pacing.
"That is why your staff are so discreet and my presence here did not raise an eyebrow." She nodded as if to herself. "That is why no one waits up for you despite the fact that your rank and natural arrogance should demand it."
She clutched at her hair. "You received a message from the Foreign Office in the middle of the night and I didn't even think it odd until now."
Gervase suppressed a smile and stared down at his fingernails. "Perhaps, my dear," he suggested gently, "You were thinking of other things."
"Yes." She rounded on him. "I was so busy waiting to see if you would kiss me that I behaved like an idiot!" Her breasts rose and fell in time to her agitated breathing and Gervase cocked his head to one side to observe the effect to its fullest advantage.
"You work for the government, don't you, Your Grace, yet you masquerade as a rake." She seemed to run out of breath, then gathered herself and faced him again. "Do I have this correctly?"
"Yes, my dear, but I must stress that I enjoy both parts of my life."
He strolled over to her, took her hand in his and bent to kiss her fingers. They smelled faintly of buttered toast and he had to resist the urge to lick them clean. "It seems as if we have discovered another way you can please me." He maneuvered her toward a chair. "Do you think we might sit and discuss this rationally? I know it must be confusing for you and there are several things you need to understand."
*** *** ***
Elizabeth allowed the duke to persuade her into a chair. She used the excuse of arranging her skirts to look away and seek her composure. She had behaved like a witless debutante and missed the obvious.
With a deep, steadying breath, she turned to face him. To her dismay, he looked exactly the same. She blushed as she remembered how he looked without his shirt and reluctantly acknowledged that his remarks about enjoying his role as a rake might just be true.
