Chapter Six

Drake had no interest in strolling the gardens. What he was interested in was being alone with Dinah. Without any servant or meddlesome countess interrupting them.

He had thought about her often during the long months at sea, but now she filled his every waking moment. He believed it best to cut all ties with her, yet he had agreed to see her again today, turning up at her doorstep, knowing he was in love with her.

Something he would never tell her.

But he could give them both a gift before they parted and he returned to sea. He could make love with her—and that memory would be what saw him through the decades to come. The question was when they could be alone. And where. It wasn't as if he could saunter up to her bedchamber and spend a night in her bed. Servants talked, and he refused to let gossip about Dinah float amongst the members of the ton.

She had talked to him of enjoying the outdoors and gardening. It would be only natural that she would want to show off the gardens to her guest. And there, he hoped he might be able to do more than kiss her.

The butler greeted them as they entered the foyer. "Would you care for any refreshments, Your Grace?"

"No, thank you, Powell. We have just come from having ices at Gunter's. I did tell Captain Andrews about our gardens, both here and at Shadowcrest." She turned to him, as if she only now had the idea. "Would you care to see the gardens, Captain? My geraniums have proved most hardy, and the sweet peas are especially pretty this year. Oh, and you must view my abutilons. Our gardener did an especially good job protecting them from frost this winter, and now their blooms are quite lovely."

Playing his part, Drake said, "I know little about plants and flowers, Your Grace, but I would love to have you explain about them to me. That is, if you have the time."

She linked her arm through his. "Oh, I will make the time, Captain. There are few things I enjoy talking about as much as the gardens." Dinah looked to the butler. "I am sure we will work up a thirst being in the gardens so long. Please have tea waiting for us at four in the drawing room, Powell."

His eyes cut to the grandfather clock, which chimed the half-hour. That would give them ninety minutes alone before they were expected back.

He planned to make the most of it.

Dinah led him to a small parlor and opened one of the French doors, saying, "This is the quickest way to the gardens."

They exited the house and strolled to the gardens. As they drew near, he picked up the scent of flowers. She paused at the entrance, bending and sniffing.

"This is dianthus," she told him. "It gives off a wonderful aroma of clove."

He bent and inhaled. "It does."

They stepped into the gardens, out of sight, and she hurried him along the path until they reached a gazebo, octagonal in shape, with benches lining several sides. Dinah pulled him up the three stairs to the center and reached high, throwing her arms about his neck and jerking him down for a kiss.

The kiss caught fire instantly, and their tongues warred for control. Drake pinned her against him as he savaged her mouth, the feel of her ample breasts pressing against his chest driving him into a frenzy.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "We may never have the luxury of being in your bedchamber. Will this place do? Might we be interrupted?"

She toyed with the hair at his nape, tugging on it. "No. The gardener and his wife received news of their first grandchild being born yesterday morning. I told them to go and visit the newborn. They will not be back until the day after tomorrow. No one will see us."

"Good," he said, seizing her mouth again, hunger for her consuming him.

They kissed until both were out of breath. He scooped her up and sat on one of the benches. Dinah looped her arms about his neck and kissed his brow. His cheeks. His mouth.

"I need more of you than that," he told her, coming to his feet and setting her on hers.

Drake bent and lifted the hem of her gown, raising it until he pulled it over her head. He laid it across the back of one of the benches, hoping it wouldn't wrinkle. Next, he removed the one petticoat she wore, placing it next to the gown. Then he spun her around, his fingers quickly unlacing her stays. Dinah wriggled from them, and he set the stays on the bench.

He faced her, seeing she now only wore her shift. He could see through the soft, white material the dark areolas of her breasts. The nipples already stood at attention, waiting for his hands and mouth.

He removed his jacket and cravat before unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it over his head. He rested his clothing on another bench.

Turning, he took her hands and placed them on his chest. "Feel me," he commanded. "Move your palms over my chest. My shoulders. My back."

She did so, her eyes taking him in, her mouth pursed in curiosity. Her touch sent wild urges through him, and Drake fought for control.

"You are sculpted, Drake," she marveled. "Like a marble statue come to life. Warm. Muscled."

She tweaked his nipples, and desire surged through him. He caught her, kissing her again, tugging on her hair so that he could deepen the kiss. His cock sprang to life, pressing between them.

Dinah broke the kiss and looked down. As she rubbed her hand against his cock, still covered, he groaned.

"I hope you do not mind me touching you," she said. "I have never done something like this." She unbuttoned his trousers, freeing his cock. "Oh, this is something I have never seen before." She stroked it. "Soft and yet hard."

"I want your touch. Everywhere," he admitted, kissing her hard.

He guided her backward a few steps until her back came to rest against a post. He lifted her hands over her head, capturing her wrists in one hand, placing them against the post, as his other hand kneaded her breast. His mouth took hers, and Drake could taste the lavender ice she had eaten, as well as smell lavender coming off her heated skin.

His fingers rolled her nipple, causing a gasp to come from her. He smiled.

"I am going to touch you as I did last night," he told her, her eyes darkening with desire at his words. "You will like it."

"I know," she whispered.

He raised the chemise high enough until it was out of his way and feathered his fingers along the seam of her sex. She wriggled, trying to free her hands, but he kept them pinned.

Drake pushed two fingers inside her, caressing her deeply. She began moving against the post and his hand as he watched her eyes glaze.

"It is happening again," she said, wonder in her voice. "That pressure. It builds and builds and then spills over, like water breaking through a dam."

"You are wet for me, Duchess," he said, his lips moving against her long, elegant neck, kissing it as his fingers found her nub and circled it.

"Oh! Oh!" she cried.

Whether they were alone or not, he couldn't have her shouting, so his mouth went to hers, covering it. As he kissed her, he brought her to a climax, and she moved against him. Dinah shuddered and stilled.

Now was the time. He released her wrists, and her hands fell to her side.

"Stay on your feet," he ordered. "Lean against the post for support."

She did so as he pushed down his trousers, not bothering to step out of them. Dinah glanced down, her mouth opening as she stared at the size of his swelling cock.

"So, that is what it looks like. Seaton always insisted upon it being dark."

He captured her face in his hands. "I am nothing like Seaton. And you are now with me. This will be different than anything you ever did with him. Nothing will be the same."

Drake took her by the waist, anchoring her, and thrust into her. She clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into them.

"You are definitely wet for me, Duchess."

She shivered at his words.

He began moving in and out of her. She caught his rhythm and responded to it. He lifted her legs, saying, "Wrap them about my waist," and she did. Now, he leaned her against that post, thrusting in and out, driven wild by her lavender scent, burying himself in her soft flesh again and again. His fingers found her nub and he pressed hard against it, circling it, making her pant.

She cried out, her body trembling with the orgasm that racked her body. He felt his own coming and pulled her legs from his waist, setting her on the ground. With one last thrust, he pulled out, spending on the ground, his breath harsh, the blood pounding in his ears.

Her hands captured his face, jerking him down so their lips collided. Dinah kissed him, over and over, and he reveled in each kiss. Love for this woman flowed through him, and he fought the urge to cry to the heavens about it. But even if she came to love him, they could never be together. It was better to leave things unsaid.

She finally broke the kiss, resting her brow against his. "I never knew it could be like that. Good heavens, I birthed four children and not once did getting with child feel like that did."

He chuckled. "There will be no child. I did not spill my seed inside you."

Raising her head, she gazed deeply at him. "I would not mind if a child was the result, Drake. Because I love you."

They were words he would always treasure hearing, but he had to put a stop to this madness.

"Do not fancy yourself in love with me, Dinah. A man and woman can come together and enjoy the pure physicality of the act. Love does not necessarily play a part in lovemaking."

Her gaze never wavered. "Tell me you do not feel as I do. Tell me I am wrong about what is growing between us. Tell me you do not love me."

He opened his mouth, ready to spout the lie—and then knew he couldn't betray her in such a way.

"I do love you, Dinah," he admitted, his breath still coming harshly. "It is wrong of me, but by God, I do."

He kissed her, hard and possessive, not knowing if they would ever have the opportunity to couple together in the future.

Pausing, he said, "But you know why we cannot acknowledge this. I am only here for a short while before I return to sea. I am gone for months—even years—at a time. I am an orphan who cannot even recall his own name, a child born into poverty. You are a leading member of Polite Society, a bloody duchess. Much as I wish things could be different, there is no hope for us, Dinah. None. So do not say those words again, because they already are tearing me apart."

"Oh, Drake," she said softly, bringing her arms about him and clinging to him, her check resting against his bare chest. "What have we done?"

He stroked her hair. "We have done nothing wrong," he assured her. "We were merely two lonely people who came together. I will soon be gone, and we will return to the worlds we each inhabit."

Lifting her head, she told him, "I do not want you to leave. I want you to stay. With me."

"I cannot do that, Duchess," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I must earn my living. I have finally achieved a dream I never thought would come true. I am captain of my own ship. I belong at sea."

"You belong with me," she said stubbornly.

"No, I could never exist in your world," he said, his heart breaking as he spoke the words. "You are at the highest echelon of British society. You will wed again. Your husband will be from your world."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "But he will never understand me as you do. He will never make me feel cherished as you have."

"He will. You simply haven't found him yet."

Anger sparked in her blue eyes. "You think I would wish to be with another man after I have been with you? If you believe that, you are sorely mistaken."

She pushed hard at his chest, stepping away, smoothing her chemise and picking up her stays. She slipped into them and fumbled with the laces, out of her sight.

"Here. Let me," he said, glad his fingers had lacing to do—because all they wanted was to skim her satin skin.

She stood stiffly until he finished and then said, "Thank you," in a tight voice.

As she replaced her petticoat and gown, he repaired his own clothing, finally slipping into his fitted jacket. Their eyes met, and he saw yearning in hers, knowing they reflected what was in his own eyes.

"I will not be staying for tea," he said. "It would be unwise. If you can point me to the gate, I can leave from here."

"You are a coward," she said pointedly. "You are running away from me."

"I cannot run to you, Dinah," he protested. "I have explained why we could never be together."

Fisting her hands, she rested them on her waist. "You could at least let us enjoy the time we have together. Until you set sail again on Vesta." Her chin raised a notch, daring him to challenge her words.

All the fight went out of him. "You are right. We love one another. We should make the most of what little time we have together. I promise to spend as much time with you as I can, Dinah, before I am given my next assignment. It means I will leave with a broken heart—but I'd be a bloody fool to walk away from you before I have to."

She collapsed against him, and he held her close, stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words of nonsense to her.

Being with her—and then having to leave her—would break him.

But Drake would rather be broken than lose any time with her.