The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

With a scream of her husband’s name, Elizabeth unraveled, and her duke gave a hoarse shout, then jerked in her arms and thrust several more times before stilling.

Then the duchess laughed, the sound soft, and loving. The duke bent his head and kissed her lips, his actions so tender a lump formed in Lily’s throat…and then he bent even farther and kissed her stomach.

“Your mother will be the death of me,” he whispered.

Lily and Oliver both froze.

“We should leave now, “Lily whispered, as the duke and duchess hugged each other.

Oliver deftly opened the door and ushered Lily into the hallway. There, they paused and took a few breaths together.

“That will be us soon,” Oliver said. “I cannot say what I desire more, a son or a daughter with your eyes and smile.”

This was the first in the three months they had been married her marquess mentioned children. Dear God. Guilt and fear wrapped their terrible hands around her heart and squeezed. “I…”

Concern flashed in those beautiful dark blue eyes peering down at her. “My sweet, are you well? You’ve gone terribly pale.”

“I need a breath of fresh air,” she gasped, deftly slipping from Oliver’s arms and hurrying down the hallway toward the terrace door. Lily spilled outside, heaving, her throat tightening.

She had seen her brother-in-law a few weeks ago in Hampshire when she had presented to him and Mary Rose the keys for a large and well situated five-bedroom cottage. Lily had once again mentioned her lack of conceiving. David had tried to reassure her it was still possible, but she had seen the pity in his eyes. Her husband made love to her over and over, in so many varied ways, and she remained a hollow husk. Lily hated that she was once again reducing herself to despair, when she had clawed from it once already and had been content to remain in the life she had carved for herself.

It had taken some time to admit it to herself, but she wanted a family, too, and not just for Oliver, but for herself. She had buried the hope so deep inside, refusing to let it out…but now, she felt scraped raw with tearing emotions she had no notion how to accept.

Damn Oliver for making her feel again, damn him for making her hope for the impossible, damn him for being a marquess, and damn him for making her love him so desperately she could not imagine life without him. There was no doubt she would lose him once she revealed her condition. He would have the grounds for a divorce, and while the scandal of it would be terrible indeed, surely, he would prefer that to the end of his lineage.

“Lily, my sweet, what is it?”

Her love clasped her hand and spun her to face him.

She was perilously close to tears. She hugged his arms to her body. “Oh, Oliver…I…I am simply overwhelmed with Elizabeth’s news. I do so hope very much for a similar joy for us. In fact, I feel quite desperate to secure an heir for you.” She hadn’t brought anything to their marriage, and she dearly wished she could at least give him what every lord needed. And she wanted it so very much, too.

Oliver smiled. “Don’t be. I am too enraptured by what we have to want another in our life just yet. Perhaps I should even be taking precautions, for I want you to myself at least for another two years before we start making heirs and spares.”

Tell him it may never happen… “I—”

He kissed her, over and over, stealing her fear and replacing it with love and arousal. And as she burrowed into his wonderful warmth, Lily once more suppressed the insidious doubt.

He whisked her deeper into the gardens, away from the revelry of the ball, his devilishly skillful fingers quickly arousing her to a fevered pitch. He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, gentle, then hard. They tumbled to the grass, and with a grunt, he took the brunt of their fall. Lily giggled, and he captured the sound with another deep kiss. He intoxicated her senses so.

Her husband ravished with devastating expertise, and she responded, unable to deny what he did to her body. Oliver made love to her in the dark and secluded gardens, compelling Lily to remember nothing but this burning need that existed in their hearts.

Chapter Seventeen

Six months later…

Oliver closed the business ledger, unable to concentrate on his investment reports. A cold knot of dread had been lingering in his heart this past week. His wife was unhappy. The shift in her temperament had first appeared five nights ago when, for the first time since their marriage, she had not slept in his arms. His wife had used the connecting door to their chambers to slip into her room. He had stirred awake as the door closed softly, and he had pushed from the bed, opened her door, and almost roared in denial as her soft sobs had reached his ear.

Had he been too rough? He had taken her mouth with his cock, then her ass, and he hadn’t been gentle. She had hummed with pleasure and had been just as eager, but there had been an unfathomable emotion in her beautiful eyes that had given him pause several times.

Had he disgusted her when he had held her throat and massaged, urging her to take his thickness all the way to the back of her throat? Or had it been when he had closed her legs tightly together, placed them over his right shoulder, and slipped his oiled prick deep into that forbidden entrance? That had been the third time he had taken her like that, and Oliver admitted he had ridden her a little longer, a little harder, and had been extremely filthy with his praise.

He had slipped into the bed beside her and held her while she cried. Oliver had probed and demanded an answer, but Lily had provided none. They had been so open and wonderful with each other for the past several months that a terrible sensation had started to grow in his heart.

Was it that she no longer enjoyed the way in which he made love with her?

Oliver had then made a concentrated effort to make love to her, sweet and gentle, for the last few nights, suppressing all his carnal inclinations. Yet it did not work. She grew more distant, the brightness of her smile had dimmed, and last night, when he had pressed a kiss against the hollow concave of her stomach and dipped his tongue into her navel, she had been frozen like a block of ice. And once again she had slipped away to her chamber w

hen she thought he slept.