The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

Her answer never emerged.

Pierce’s tongue sank inside her, his fingers drifting up the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as they pressed them wide apart to allow him greater freedom.

Daphne was unable to stifle her cry, arching until she felt the cool wood against her back, her elbows totally giving out beneath Pierce’s relentless onslaught. The pleasure was acute and unendurable, converging instantly into a blinding pinpoint of sensation that exploded in seconds, spasms of excruciating ecstasy radiating out from her very core.

“Pierce!” She sobbed his name, reaching for him even in the throes of her release.

She was still shuddering when he entered her, taking her in one deep, inexorable thrust.

“Wrap your legs around me, Snow flame,” he rasped, clamping his hands on her hips, holding her while he withdrew, drove forward again.

Daphne whimpered, her spasms intensifying as she raised her legs, gripping Pierce inside and out, reveling in his groan of pleasure.

“Unbelievable,” he ground out. “Christ, I want to prolong it, but—” He threw his head back, giving in to the inevitable, thrusting into his wife again and again until the world erupted, his seed pouring into her in great, endless bursts.

Still embedded in her clinging softness, Pierce stood, lifting Daphne in his arms and turning until he was seated on the desk, his wife cradled to his chest. “It just keeps getting better,” he said in a husky whisper, his hand shaking as he stroked her hair.

A faint sigh was his only reply, sparking a new worry.

“Daphne. The babe—I tried not to give you my full weight.”

“Your heir and I both feel wonderful, Your Grace.” Daphne kissed his damp throat. “And we retract the undeserved comments we made about your sense of adventure being lacking.”

Laughter rumbled from Pierce’s chest. “I’m glad I redeemed myself.” His grin turned wicked. “We’ll soon see who is truly the bold one, you or I. Any second you’re going to realize what we just did; and where.”

Even as he spoke, reality struck full force. “Lord, Pierce, we just made love on the—in the—”

“On the desk in our new schoolroom,” Pierce supplied helpfully. “The question is, will you be able to walk in here when Sarah is seated at this desk instructing the children, and not succumb to blushes?”

“Never. Every time I come in, I’ll remember.” Daphne tilted her head back, gave Pierce an incredulous look. “You won’t be at all embarrassed, will you?”

“Not even a bit.” Pierce kissed the furrow between her brows. “But I’ll enjoy watching you. You’re enchanting when you blush.” Gently, he set her on her feet. “Speaking of which, we should get dressed. I distinctly recall your mentioning that the chalk and slates are soon to be delivered, and I don’t think even your newfound abandon could withstand being discovered in our current state.”

He chuckled as Daphne turned a bright shade of crimson, practica

lly flying about the room in her haste to don her clothes.

Ten minutes later Pierce unlocked the door. “Safe,” he teased, glancing up and down the empty hallway. “And undiscovered.” Turning back, he met Daphne’s sober expression. “Snow flame? What is it?”

“Would you mind closing the door? I’d like to talk.”

“Of course.” Pierce did as she’d asked, his brows drawn in query.

“We haven’t talked, truly talked, since the robbery,” Daphne began. “The emotions were too raw, the revelations too new. But now, especially after what we just shared, I need to know. Are you still angry with me? Not only for assisting you at Benchley in my current condition, but for keeping from you that I was with child?”

A shadow of emotion crossed Pierce’s face. Steeling himself, he forced out the gnawing question that had hovered between them, unasked, all week. “How long have you known?”

“The possibility flitted through my mind the night the vicar came to dinner, when I suffered that uncustomary fainting spell. At first, I gave it no credence. But the next morning, I began feeling queasy, mainly at mealtimes. During our brief stay at Benchley, I kept experiencing that same lightheadedness, and the odd sensation of being out of sorts. As I was dressing for the ball, it suddenly occurred to me I haven’t bled since our wedding. That’s when I knew.” Daphne crossed the room, grasped Pierce’s forearms. “ ’Twas only two days. And my reasons for remaining silent were sound. Please don’t be angry.”

“I wasn’t angry,” he responded, shaking his head. “Bewildered. Hurt. Even a bit betrayed, if I’m to be honest.” He cupped her face. “Honesty. Where was it, Daphne? We’ve always had that between us, right from the start.”

“To a degree, yes,” she clarified. “But, if you recall, there were several things, such as your identity, that you refrained from telling me.”

“Only to protect you.”

“Precisely.” Daphne lay her own hands over his. “That was my motive as well.”

Pierce’s gaze delved deep inside her. “How would denying me the joy of knowing about our babe protect me? Surely you guessed what a child, our child, would mean to me. The only reason you could possibly have for not telling me is—”