Prologue

PROLOGUE

Baby making…

January 1837

Lady Caroline Green stood next to her friend, Miss Chloe Fairchild, and attempted to breathe.

Around them, the crowd of dancers swirled past, the noise of the crowd making it near impossible to hear.

And yet, she could swear she heard him exhale. The Duke of Strongborn. Wickedly handsome, his wavy dark hair curled back from his face, only accenting his strong jaw and powerful shoulders. And his eyes…

They were the eyes of a man used to being in charge, a man who might command armies, who controlled the fates of entire nations, who could surely lead one countess through her journey of carnal knowledge.

Of which she had none…

Candles flickered about the room, giving it a romantically mysterious glow. She nearly laughed at herself. She'd been in hundreds of ballrooms in her time—first as a debutante and then as the countess—and she had never thought the lighting romantically mysterious before tonight.

"I need to get the Duke of Helmsworth alone," Chloe murmured. "It's time he and I had a chat."

Caroline had practically forgotten the man standing next to Strongborn, Chloe's love interest, Helmsworth.

Also handsome and a duke, Chloe had her hands full attempting to tame that man…

Caroline had no wish to tame any man.

A widow after three years of marriage, now three and twenty, her only goal was to make certain that she kept what was already hers.

There hadn't been a great deal to recommend her first husband, but she could say this… he'd left her with a lovely home and plenty of money to run it, provided no one discovered her secret.

Her marriage to the earl had never been consummated.

If anyone of any influence found out…she'd be stripped of her inheritance, her marriage seen as not legal.

Her first plan was to remain a widow. The only other person who knew the truth, her former husband, was dead. But after a few years, she'd grown lonely.

So her second plan was to marry a simple man. One who was sweet, kind, and loyal, who would keep her secret.

But tonight, as heat and longing filled her, a new plan emerged.

She could have a tryst. A night of passion, something that other widows indulged in regularly, and then she'd be free of her virginity.

Had she thought this through? No.

Was it surely a foolish plan? Likely.

But she was tired of sitting on the sidelines of life. Couldn't she indulge just this once?

"You need to speak with Helmsworth alone?" Caroline gave Chloe a bright smile. "I'll distract Strongborn for you."

"Thank you," Chloe breathed, her shimmering blonde hair falling over one shoulder.

Caroline fingered her own brown strands, wishing she looked more like Chloe. "Strikingly beautiful" were the words she'd use to describe her friend.

But she cast that thought aside. She knew she was pretty enough. Hopefully, the duke would be tempted into a single night…

Cutting through the crowd, she made her way to the two men, curtsying as she reached them. "Your Grace," she said, not to Strongborn but to Helmsworth, as they were already acquainted.

Helmsworth nodded to her. "Countess Green." And then he turned to Strongborn. "Countess Green, may I present the Duke of Strongborn. Your Grace, this is the lovely widow, Lady Green."

He leaned into the word widow. Caroline knew why. The two men belonged to some secret, illicit club where they completed challenges. And this week's challenge…bed a widow. Which she was.

Chloe had happened upon the information and her friend was furious. She wanted Helmsworth, but he was attempting to bed a random widow.

She curtsied again, looking up at the man through her lashes, her breath catching in her throat. Would he take notice? Pass her by? "Your Grace," she breathed, knowing she sounded wanton.

Her heart hammered in her chest as his gaze made a slow perusal down her frame. "My lady, say you will grace me with a dance."

Her pulse jumped as she gave a quick nod. He held out his arm, leading her onto the dance floor.

A waltz…

He danced exactly as she'd imagined, with power and command, and Caroline found herself completely swept away by the brush of his strong lean body, the speed of the dance and his scent…leather, sandalwood, and a male musk. Her body tightened as she leaned closer.

They'd hardly spoken, words didn't seem necessary, and as the dance ended, he tucked her hand in his arm, leading her not back to their friends, but out onto the patio. And then into the shadows, the cool night air making her shiver in her low-cut gown.

"You're cold," he murmured, shrugging off his jacket and dropping it around her shoulders. Warmth instantly surrounded her as they moved down a path through a garden that wrapped about the side of the house.

Caroline almost felt as though she were floating through a dream.

And then she was certain this was just a fantasy, when the duke reached for a glass door and the handle opened, leading them into a cozy study where a fire already burned brightly.

Her brows went up as she stopped on the threshold. "How convenient."

Strongborn chuckled. "Come in from the cold and warm yourself by the fire."

That was the moment it occurred to her that she didn't know this man at all. And rather than taking a step in, she took a partial step out. "Your Grace, please understand…"

Tall and straight, he cocked his head to the side. "I've made too many assumptions, haven't I?"

No. Technically, he hadn't. She'd known his game from the first, but now that she was here… "It's not that." She drew in a deep breath, stepping into the room. "I just… I've never… my husband…"

His lips parted, full sensuous lips that she longed to kiss. "You've not been with anyone since your husband?"

She shook her head, knowing that she was not telling the whole truth, but she hoped… would he even notice she was untouched?

He offered her a hand and tentatively, she took it allowing him to draw her closer. "If it's slow you need, my lady, just say the word. I aim to please."

Those words settled low in her stomach. She so wished to be… pleased. Had she been cold? Her skin tingled with heat even as he touched her cheek, skimming his fingertips down over her jaw, along her neck, and across her chest to trace the neckline of her gown. Which wasn't at her neck at all.

The dress was cut deep enough that he skimmed the top her breasts.

Goose pimples erupted on her skin and she tilted her head back, her body arching into his touch.

This is what she wanted… his hands on her skin.

Until he leaned in, placing an equally soft kiss on the column of her neck. Gasping in a breath, she shivered anew at his touch, his jacket falling to the floor as her arms wrapped about his shoulders.

She'd never imagined that such a small kiss to her skin could make her feel so much. She tried to breathe in, but the breath caught, growing jagged as his mouth slid lower.

One of his hands curled around the base of her skull, cradling her head, while the other wrapped around her waist pulling her closer.

She'd never been held like this…. He was so strong, supporting her weight, as she became aware of just how difficult it was to stand alone all this time.

Even when she'd been married, her husband had never been a partner. Not in any sense.

She gasped as his mouth dragged over the top of her exposed chest.

"Tell me your name," he murmured into her flesh.

"Caroline."

"Caroline," he rumbled. "I wish I could strip this gown off you, but we'll have to make do."

She didn't want to make do. She wanted everything. This was her chance…

His arm tightened around her waist and then he lifted her off the floor, carrying her to the fire where he gently laid her down on a thick fur rug. "Watch your hair," he rumbled as he carefully lifted her skirts so as not to crease them.

She appreciated the care but something about it niggled in the back of her thoughts. He was so good at this… too good.

But she pushed the concern away.

This for one night of blissful pleasure for both of them. It didn't matter where he'd been or who he'd treat to his skills after.

Only that they enjoy the moment. That she enjoy the moment…

He knelt between her legs as she lay in front of him with her skirts about her waist. She had a moment to feel insecure, to wonder what might happen next, when one of his hands circled her ankle. "So small," he rumbled, giving her ankle a little squeeze.

She looked away, heat creeping into her cheeks. "I'm sure they are like every other lady's ankles."

He chuckled, the palm of his hand sliding up her calf. "Don't be ridiculous, Caroline. Your legs are as perfect as the rest of you."

She didn't argue, it was foolish. But she was well aware that she was no great beauty. His hand climbed higher, past the ribbon that held her stocking to the bare skin of her thigh. The feel of his rough palm dragging over her flesh had her body tensing with excitement. He kept going, the gentle brush of his fingers passing over her woman's flesh.

She shivered with desire, chasing his hand for more of his touch. Any fear had been replaced with hectic hunger. He laughed again, low and deep. "Don't worry, my sweet. I will make sure you feel so good…"

"Yes," the word fell from her lips, as she pushed up onto her elbows, trying to see past her layers of skirts and petticoats.

She wanted to witness his large hand between her thighs. His skin was darker than hers, she'd always been pale despite her darker hair, and just imagining his large, rough hand between her legs made her even hotter.

He brushed her apex again, but this time he didn't laugh. Instead, he let out a sound that resembled a rumbling, possessive growl. "You're so wet for me."

She whimpered in response. "I want…" What did she say that didn't reveal too much? "Please touch me more. Please."

In answer, he parted her seam, his finger sliding along her lips, the feeling so wonderfully intense that she cried out a high-pitched noise that was foreign to her own ears.

He grabbed her thigh with his other hand, angling her hips higher as he slid his finger through her folds again.

And then he inserted his digit inside her channel.

She moaned out her pleasure, not prepared for just how good it would feel.

"Jesus. You're so tight."

She wanted to lie back, her head falling down, and her elbows weakening. "Don't stop."

"Your hair," he rumbled but he was leaning over her more, his hips pressing into the cradle of hers as he kept his finger inside her.

"I shall have to leave after. I don't think I can…" And then she let out a half sob as he slid in and out of her, picking up the tempo until she was strung tight as a violin. "So good."

"So good," he returned, as he continued to work her. He let go of her hip to slide his hand up her body and squeeze her clothed breast.

She knew they were large for her frame. And even as big as his hand was, her breast filled it, making them both groan.

She couldn't stay up anymore, and her elbows gave as she collapsed on the rug, her arms lifting over her head as her hips ground deeper into his touch.

He pressed his chest to hers, his teeth grazing the lobe of her ear. That's when her body finally succumbed to the building pleasure and she contracted around his finger, stars lighting behind her closed eyes.

She let out a keening cry, her entire body pulsing with pleasure.

He was up in a second, tugging at the falls of his breeches and pulling them down his hips.

She couldn't see his member, his shirt falling in the way before she could.

But she was too relaxed to be concerned.

Which might have been a mistake. Coming down on top of her again, he pressed into her slick folds, the flesh giving way to him.

Until it didn't…

He'd only just begun to push inside her when a burning pain spread through her and she stiffened.

"You're so tight," he grunted, his eyes closing. "Sweetheart, you feel so good."

She tried to hang onto that, but as he pushed in deeper, the pain spread until finally, she could stand it no more and she let out a cry.

That was when his body stilled and his eyes opened. "Caroline?"

"It… it's all right." She pushed out between little huffs of breaths. "It's been a long time…" Would he believe the lie?

He seemed to as he sunk deeper into her, his eyes closing again.

She took several deep breaths to cleanse out the pain as he pulled out and then pushed back in her.

It still hurt like anything, but she thought it might be less as she clung to his shoulders.

He started a rhythm, slow and steady, which helped her to breathe, her face burying in his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Even though their coupling was the source of her pain, holding him was like an anchor, a port in the storm.

She'd never known being with a man could be this deliciously gratifying…

She didn't need another complicated, painful marriage, but being touched like this… even with the pain, it felt so… good.

The fire slowly died as he increased the tempo, his body growing so taut, she knew he'd break.

And when he did, his body shuddering as he held onto her, she thought, she'd never felt anything so wonderful. Except maybe her own finish.

He kissed her forehead as he withdrew, pushing up on his knees and pulling up his breeches before he began adjusting her skirts. She sat up too, heat filling her cheeks despite the cooling room.

"Caroline, that was…"

She shook her head. "Don't say anything." It had been beautiful, and platitudes would ruin the moment. "But would you please help me to my carriage? I can't be seen like this." She didn't know how she looked but she'd guess it was dreadful.

"Of course," he answered, standing and then reaching down to help her stand. Her legs hardly supported her, and they wobbled a bit under her. She was a woman who liked a brisk walk often and so the fact that she was so weak surprised her.

His arm was instantly around her, his lips brushing her forehead. "If you need anything, you contact me, Caroline. Promise?"

"Promise," she answered. A lie. Strongborn was not the sort of man she planned to speak with ever again. He was a fantasy, a night she'd remember like a dream. A chance to experience just one night of real passion before she found her perfectly boring, easy husband with whom she never shared the truth.

She'd been a virgin widow. Until tonight.