15. The Duchess and The Twins

THE DUCHESS AND THE TWINS

N aomi ought to have at least checked outside the window. If she had, she would have realized that her visitors were not any of her neighbors or even one of Ester's family members coming with a message. Then, at the very least, she might have taken the additional five minutes required to locate a dress that fastened up the front and come to the door fully clothed.

Finding the Duke of Blackheart on her porch before she'd had the chance to dress properly had been startling, to say the least.

She'd seen him on a few occasions last spring and considered him something of a lofty character, but they had never been introduced. Upon close inspection, he was even more daunting.

And yet… he was not looking down his nose at her.

The duchess hadn't so much as sniffed at Naomi's disheveled appearance. And the twins, Luke's sisters… were absolutely adorable.

They followed Naomi to the kitchen and then, before she could check the water on the stove, the duchess's hands landed on the back of her dress and tugged the fabric closed.

"One would think that those who design ladies' gowns would make them so the lady herself could don them without assistance."

One of the twins had gone right to the basin of water on the counter and used the damp rag she'd found there to smooth Naomi's gown while the duke's new wife fastened her up from behind.

"That way," the duchess continued, "a lady wouldn't find herself in such a predicament when her maid is suddenly called away."

Although initially taken aback, Naomi already was feeling more put together. The duchess set herself to arranging the dishes on the tray Naomi had removed earlier and was efficiently pouring water into the porcelain pot. "Do you have any napkins, Mrs. Gilcrest?" she asked Naomi, for all the world as though she, a duchess, and the duke's sisters hadn't just arrived to find her in a somewhat scandalous situation.

Naomi's heart skipped a beat. She was a widow—and she'd taken a lover.

It had been going on for almost a week now.

Luke had made love to her the night before. And then she, in turn, had made love to him. And if she was correct in her assumption, they'd been on the verge of making love again before his brother had begun pounding on the door.

A duke. She covered her cheeks with her hands for a moment, only to drop them immediately.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Gilcrest." The twin who'd been dampening the wrinkles out of her skirt rose, looking quite solemn. "Especially with your babe on the way. When is it coming, do you know?"

"It's not polite to comment on a proper lady's confinement, Lucinda," the other twin—Lady Lydia—admonished her sister.

Only, Naomi didn't imagine herself a very proper lady at the moment. A proper woman, perhaps, a highly satisfied voice piped up in her thoughts.

"I'm not offended." She gave Lady Lucinda a reassuring nod and reached for some napkins in a nearby cupboard. "The baby should be due sometime after the holidays." That was what the midwife who'd visited her in August had told her. Arthur had insisted the midwife visit just before he'd taken his leave. He'd told her it would provide him with peace of mind until he could return.

The memory brought her up short. It would be easier to hate him if he had been all bad. He'd been irresponsible. He'd lied to her and he'd cheated. And despite his last ghastly blunder, she could not deny that in the time they'd been together, he'd treated her with affection.

And he had asked Luke to look after her. Luke, the man who had since stolen her heart and brought it back to life—a heart she'd considered beyond repair.

"I imagine you wish for a boy?" Lady Lucinda moved around to assist with a second tray. "To carry on Captain Gilcrest's name."

"It's doesn't matter, really, Luce, since Gil wasn't the heir," her sister inserted.

"I suppose. But the earl shows no sign of marrying, and if he doesn't, Gil's child would stand to inherit the title."

Lydia shook her head adamantly. "Lord Tempest will marry." Was she blushing?

"You can't know that," Lucinda argued.

And Lucinda made a good point. Why hadn't she considered that her child, Arthur's child, could inherit an earldom? Her chest tightened as she considered the possibility.

She'd not met Gil's older brother as he'd not been in London last spring, and Gil hadn't been eager to talk about his family with her.

"That's probably why they're coming here." The two girls had been moving around the kitchen as they talked, and since they were wearing identical gowns, Naomi lost track of which one was which.

But… Her heart stopped. "They are coming here?"

"It's why we came so quickly," the duchess explained.

"That and because Luke's new orders had come. Black only brought us because we begged. Blasted brother of ours thinking he could get away without coming home while on leave."

Naomi hardly noticed when the girls shared a significant glance, looking more than a little dismayed that such a complaint had been uttered aloud.

Because Naomi was the reason he hadn't made it home.

But her mind was spinning with what she'd already learned. She hadn't considered that her child might be an anticipated heir, nor could she dismiss the announcement that Luke's orders had come. She'd known Luke was going to have to leave, but it was becoming all too real…

Fear slid down her spine. He was going to leave the country. He was going to put himself back in the line of fire. Even if he went through with his plans to sell out, he must first fulfill his present duties. It was the quality of man that he was. His honor would require it.

"Shall we?" The duchess lifted one of the trays, and Naomi rushed forward to lift the second one.

Walking out of the kitchen, Naomi hoped they'd allowed Luke and the duke enough time to settle all the matters that had needed discussing.

Including, probably, the imminent arrival of Arthur's family. She could hardly believe it. The journey from Sussex wasn't an overly long one, but she had difficulty imagining his mother and brother going out of their way to come to her assistance.

The possibility that her child could become the heir to the Tempest earldom had her wanting to cover her belly and hide from the world.

Where would that leave her?

She drew on all the training she'd had as her mother's daughter and lifted her chin as they entered the parlor, which suddenly seemed much smaller than it had before. Both Luke and Blackheart rose but it was Luke who crossed the room to take the tray from her hands and lower it to a table. He met and held her gaze briefly while doing so. If an expression could hold a thousand words, he somehow managed just that.

I'm sorry we were interrupted.

I'm sorry you had to meet my family this way.

You look beautiful.

I want to be inside of you again.

I'm going to have to leave you.

Naomi merely nodded and turned to pour the first cup with shaking hands. She thought that he might love her, but it was too soon. Wasn't it?

What could she possibly say to him that wouldn't sound false or trite, especially with his family here watching?

She was more grateful than ever for the twins' excitement as they easily filled the silence. After gushing over the ducal wedding, they proceeded to inform Luke of practically everything they'd done and seen while he'd been away—including the fact that Lady Lucinda was now engaged to be married. Lady Ravensdale had consented to sponsor them last spring, and it sounded as though both girls had thoroughly enjoyed their come outs. Lady Lydia hadn't had the same good luck as her sister, but she appeared to be genuinely happy for her and told Luke how she looked forward to her next Season.

Come spring, Naomi would be a mother. Her baby would be here, and Lucas would be long gone, fighting for his country somewhere far away.

Blackheart had confirmed that Lord Tempest and his mother might both be traveling to Hull Crossing. Having learned of Arthur's death, they'd suddenly located their interest in his wife and the child she was carrying. She wasn't sure if she ought to be grateful or offended.

How was it possible for a person to feel so many emotions at the same time? She required all of her dignity to maintain her poise until the duke finally indicated that he and Luke had business to attend to in the village. He would send a carriage later this afternoon if she would be so kind as to dine with all of them in the private dining room at the inn?

She nodded and somehow made the appropriate responses, and soon enough, the carriage was riding off of the property, carrying Luke's family towards the village down the road. Luke was expected to follow shortly.

When the vehicle disappeared around the corner, Luke didn't hesitate, but walked them back into the parlor and swept her into his arms.

If Gil's family, or even a representative of the family, was on their way here, Luke needed to return to the coaching inn. She shuddered when she thought of the repercussions if they discovered she'd been with Luke, alone.

Good lord. They could not know the truth of what she'd been up to. It shouldn't matter, and yet it did.

Naomi buried her face in his shirt. "Your sisters are delightful," she muttered.

His chest shook with subtle laughter. "I cannot help but agree." Then he squeezed her tighter. "I can't believe Black married."

"And yet the duchess seems perfect for him."

"She does," Luke agreed.

Naomi chuckled. "Blackheart isn't as terrifying as I'd imagined him to be." But then, growing serious, she leaned back and caught his gaze. "Did you tell him?"

"I will tonight. I can't remain here long. Black will hire a local woman to come stay here. I suppose it's best you have a companion in the house when Tempest arrives."

"Ester will return soon." It was disconcerting that the duke, a person she hardly knew, would be so managing in regards to her circumstances.

"He's also sending a groom for your stable. Ester is a capable housekeeper and maid but can provide little protection otherwise."

"I don't need?—"

"I'm inclined to agree with him." Luke's expression grew somewhat fierce. "Promise me you won't stay here alone after I've left. If anything were to happen to you…" A protective determination burned in his gaze and she could easily imagine him in battle, fighting to defend his men, his territory. A shiver ran through her and she nodded.

"I promise." She flicked a glance toward the opened envelope and letter resting on the side table. "When will you leave?"

When he didn't answer right away, she swallowed hard.

"First thing tomorrow." His voice came out gravelly but determined. "But I can't stay with you tonight."

Suddenly, she wondered why they had wasted so much of their time together.

"Come upstairs with me," Naomi gasped and clutched an arm around his neck when, with one hand around her back, Luke slid his other one behind her knees and lifted her into the air.

"Yes."

Society had certain expectations of a grieving widow. They prescribed that she should wear black for a year, that she not make visits or mingle in society for that same period—and they most definitely would prohibit sexual congress with men who were not her husband.

None of this mattered. Luke was here today, and although she'd always been an optimistic person, she could not be sure he'd come back to her whole, if at all. She would celebrate what they'd found together.

"We have approximately sixty minutes until Cromwell returns, and I'm going to make the most of every second." He climbed the stairs, holding her almost effortlessly, which she considered something of an impressive feat, in that her little potato was now more or less a large cantaloupe.

"How do you do that? Read my mind?" She leaned her head on his shoulder.

He only paused an instant to answer. "How can I not when you are the other half of my soul?" His words sent a warm rush of affection flooding through her, from her fingers to her toes. Her heart was so full of love for this man, she thought it might burst.

Yes. Love.

"I'm going to touch you everywhere." He nipped at the skin behind her ear. "I'm going to taste every inch of your body." Naomi's skin came alive in anticipation as he carried her effortlessly up the narrow staircase.

His eyes locked with hers when he lowered her onto the bed. "I'm going to memorize every inch so that when I'm alone on one of those inevitable cold and tedious nights, I can imagine you in my tent, lying beside me."

He unfastened his breeches and drew his shirt over his head. Naomi rose to her knees and turned her back so he could undo the hooks that had given her so much trouble earlier.

The sun slanted inside, and, large with child, she would have thought she'd have a need to feel modest while wearing nothing but an almost transparent chemise. But not with Luke. The two of them fit. Everything about them simply fit .

She glanced over her shoulder, excited by his words.

"And what will you do when you think of me?" She, too, would make the most of these sixty minutes.

His eyes flared.

"This."

She lowered her gaze to where his hand, darkened from working outdoors, gripped his member, and then moved down the shaft, revealing the tip. The light coming into the room reflected off one pearly bead of his liquid seed and Naomi clenched her thighs.

And then she licked her lips.

"What will you do?" he dared back.

"I will imagine this." She walked across the bed on her knees, her face even with his. Just as he moved to claim her lips, she slipped away and dropped her feet over the edge of the bed. Emboldened by the nights they'd shared and even more so by his wicked words, she lowered herself to her knees before him.

He inhaled. "You don't have to—" But he cut himself off with a hiss when she pushed his hand away and grasped him with her own. "Naomi," he groaned when she flicked her tongue out and captured that pearly bead. He tasted salty—earthy. It made her hungry for more.

She'd craved this in her marriage but never felt welcome to do it. She licked the tip again.

She wouldn't think about that now. Arthur was her past.

Luke was her future. He was her present. Eternity. Infinity.

She squeezed his thickness in her palm and massaged him with her thumb. His skin was softer than silk, warmer than satin, and gloriously unique. As she took more of him into her mouth, he moved his hips forward and back. His hands were in her hair and his shaking, gasping breaths encouraged her.

"Naomi." He made her name sound like a prayer.

She took him deeper, filling herself with him. This was a way she could show her love. It was an exclusive expression. He'd done so much for her.

"Naomi." He drew back, sliding out of her mouth, making an intimate kissing sound. "Come here." He'd tugged her to her feet before she had a chance to do so on her own and he was kissing her again.

"Will that help your imagination?" she teased against his lips.

Luke ached to know that he must leave her the next morning. They had so much more to say to one another. So much more to do. He'd wanted to finish the roof, have a few windows replaced…

He wanted to be the person to care for her up until the baby came. He didn't care that it wasn't his. It was hers and she was his. He'd be her child‘s father.

At the same time, he could hardly think for having just had her mouth on him.

There would come a time for talking but now was the time for loving. When he claimed her mouth, she tasted like sin. She tasted like him.

Sunlight illuminated her golden mane as he removed the few pins that confined it. He buried his hands, threading the strands through his fingers and then drawing them forward to cradle her face.

Tears hovered on her lashes, but she smiled. So beautiful. He touched his lips to her brow, memorizing her scent—and then he touched them to her cheek, memorizing the silken texture of her skin. And her lips. Plump, pink, soft, and easy to smile.

"I'll dream of tasting you, of hearing your voice."

She hummed in response.

He walked her backward toward the bed until her knees bent and she dropped onto the mattress. He was running out of time to make good on his promises.

"Open." With her gaze locked on him, she eased her knees apart at his command. Luke dropped to the floor, a man intent on worship. He then pushed her chemise up and revealed the prettiest legs he'd ever seen. Pale, creamy, slim ankles gave way to tender calves, girlish knees, and finally, soft thighs. Unable to resist, he kissed a small dimple on the inside of one knee. Their love was brand new and yet time was running out.

"My sweet, sweet girl." There were no other words. "This is only the beginning." He would come home to her. He knew he couldn't promise that. It would be tempting fate. "You're mine now, Naomi Augustine."

Luke grasped behind her calves and drew her to the edge of the bed just before he buried his face to claim the most intimate of kisses.

"Forever," Naomi gasped, clutching the sides of his head. "You're coming back to me, damn you."

He could only grin at this, thinking her demand was better than a promise. He'd not allow her to be disappointed again.

"Yes, ma'am." He rolled his tongue over delicate flesh, her excitement fueling his own.

"I'll come back here ." He licked. "And here ." He meant every word. When he slid his fingers inside, she groaned.

"And here ." He focused all his efforts on what she liked, on what she needed, on what she wanted, and when he rubbed his thumb just above her opening, there was no mistaking her completion. She arched her back and nearly strangled him with her knees. He loved it. He loved everything about her.

When the pulsing around his hand and face subsided, he eagerly climbed onto the bed. Now. Now he needed to be inside of her. He needed to touch as much of her as was humanly possible.

He'd been careful each night when joined with her. If she hadn't been straddling him, he'd take her while they'd faced one another, laying side by side.

He'd rocked into her carefully.

He couldn't cover her with his weight and the last thing he would ever do was cause her discomfort or pain, but he wanted to feel all of her against him.

This time, when she rolled onto her side, Luke drew her chemise up and over her head and then stretched out behind her. Ah, yes, this had been where he'd been interrupted upon his brother's untimely appearance. Their time was growing short.

The scent of her filling his senses, he lifted her knee with one arm and guided himself into warm, wet heat from behind.

"Deeper." Her voice came out both a plea and a command. Luke latched onto her shoulder with his mouth and thrust his hips forward, impaling her to the hilt.

Moving together, their lovemaking was the perfect symphony. He was the harmony to her melody, reaching a crescendo of hope but also fear. And magic. Together, they were magic. Luke held on to her for dear life as he released inside of her. Passion replaced thought. He only knew taste, touch, smell, and the sounds of her crying out his name.