Laurel Bennett

Her Gift — the Duchess

Charlotte paced from one side of the library to the next. If His Grace didn’t arrive soon, she would go out of her mind with worry. She raised a finger to her mouth and absently nibbled at a nail. The sun was already setting. Where on earth could he be? It had been hours since he’d delivered her to his home. Hours since he’d left her there in the library, with no more direction than, “ Wait for me here. I’ll not be gone long.” Then, with a quick and rather chaste kiss to her forehead, he ’d left her there. And hadn’t returned. Now she knew why he was considered to be the disappearing duke. It wasn’t because of all the hearts he’d broken throughout the years. It was because he couldn’t be found.

Finally, the rhythmic click of footsteps in the corridor got her attention. She held her breath as the library door creaked open. But instead of the dashing duke she expected, his butler came through the door. Her hopes crashed like waves against the shore. She may as well have him call a carriage for her. Obviously, she wasn’t going to get the assignation she’d hoped for. She had no husband to go home to. Not anymore. Not since the doddering old fool had finally drank himself to death.

“I consider it being cautious, rather than doddering,” the butler said, his nose rising in the air.

Goodness. Had she said doddering out loud? “Apologies,” Charlotte murmured. “That wasn’t directed at you.” She couldn’t very well explain to the duke’s butler that she had just lost her husband and gone through proper mourning for the old codger, could she? He was a doddering, mean old man, not nearly as spry or gay as the butler appeared to be. Telling him the truth would be a disaster. “Have you any idea when His Grace will return?” Or any idea where he is at all, she wanted to ask as well.

“His Grace sent a runner a moment ago. He has been unavoidably detained.”

Charlotte’s heart sank. This was to be the very first time she’d had any sort of assignation. And she had planned so well, choosing the disappearing duke, because he was known for loving and leaving. And she wanted both. She wanted to be loved… well, loved was a very broad use of the term… And left. She w anted to be pleasured, for one single night. For one single time in her life. Then she could retire to the country and enjoy her solitude, her dogs, and her knitting. Charlotte shook away the errant thoughts. It looked as though she’d been left. But not loved. What a disappointing turn of events.

“His Grace asked that I show you to his chambers. He has left a present for you there.” He inclined his head toward the door.

“His chambers?” she squeaked. At some point, she’d assumed she’d end up in his chambers. But not when he was not in residence.

“Yes, my lady.” He started for the stairs, and she followed blindly, lifting the edge of her skirts so she could follow his quick strides u p the grand staircase.

When they came to what she assumed was the duke’s chambers, he stopped, opened the door and stepped to the side. “Mary will be along to assist you,” he said.

“Assist me with what?” Charlotte asked as she stepped into the room. Instead of answering, he closed the door. She wanted to run after him. To bring him back. He obviously knew more than Charlotte did. Charlotte laid her forehead against the door with a heavy thump and muttered, “What do I do now?”

“I believe he means for you to dress,” a silky voice called from the corner of the room. Charlotte spun quickly, relieved and not relieved all at the same time to find a young woman standing in the corner beside a steaming tub of water. T he full bath rested before a crackling fire. “His Grace sent me for your pleasure,” she said with a smile. Charlotte stopped short. She didn’t look like a servant. She looked like a lady. One of odd circumstance, but still a lady. “You are Mary?”

The lady laughed, a soft sound that moved across Charlotte’s skin like satin. “May I help you disrobe?”

“May I ask what your position within the household is?” Charlotte squeaked.

“I am not a member of the household staff,” she said, shaking her head. Her silky blonde curls danced across her shoulders. “I am here for your pleasure.” She had a voice like a siren and a smile that could sink ships. All gracing the most perfectly proportioned figure.

“Yes, you mentioned pleasure,” Charlotte murmured. “Do you also attend to the duke’s pleasure?” She pretended to pluck at an errant string on her sleeve. The words sounded waspish even to her own ears.

A tinkling little laugh was the lady’s response. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

Did she? Probably not.

“I didn’t think so,” the woman continued. She sat down on the edge of what must be the duke’s bed. “His Grace is familiar with your late husband,” she said cautiously, watching closely for a reaction from Charlotte. She refused to provide one, aside from stiffening her spine. The woman’s voice softened even more. “He was known for being unkind in bed.”

True fear crept up Charlotte’s spine. “Who told you that?”

“It’s a well-known fact,” Mary said with a shrug. “That’s why His Grace thought you might like to spend some time with me.”

He pities me. She buried her face in her hands and blinked back her tears. She refused to cry in front of this beautiful woman. When she looked up, the woman was gone. “His Grace is very good at figuring out what a woman needs and then giving it to her,” she said from behind Charlotte’s left shoulder.

“I thought my assignation was with His Grace.” She sighed heavily.

“It will be. Later.” Mary ran the tip of one well-manicured finger down Charlotte’s arm. A shiver crept up her spine. “Do I affect you at all?” she whispered.

“In what way?” She probably sounded like a dolt, but she didn’t know how she was supposed to respond. “ You’re a lady,” Charlotte croaked.

“His Grace thinks you will enjoy me. And His Grace is never wrong about these things.” She made a little tsking sound with her tongue. “He thought you to be the adventurous sort. He’ll be disappointed when I tell him he was wrong.” She took a deep breath. “At least let me help you prepare for later with Trent.”

“Trent?”

“His Grace,” she said with a laugh. Then she clapped her hands together. “I’ll play the part of your lady’s maid, since I’m already here.” She made a spinning motion with her finger. “Turn around.”

“When will His Grace arrive?”

“Trent,” Mary said forcefully. “Say it with me.” She mouthed the word in a dramatic manner.

“He hasn’t given me leave to use his name,” Charlotte murmured.

She pointed to the room around her. “He plans to have a liaison with you later. Of course, he will expect you to call out his name. His real name. More than once, if the rumors about him are true.” She winked at Charlotte.

Heat crept up Charlotte’s cheeks. “What do you get out of this?” Charlotte asked as she swept her hair to the side and exposed the fastenings at the back of her dress.

“I’d hoped for the pleasure of serving you,” she said without even stopping to consider her words.

“That pleases you?”

“Pleasing others? Yes. Because my master, when I return to him, will want to hear all about my endeavors. And if I fail to please you, I will be punished. In a most delicious way, but punished none the less.”

“You’ll be punished if I don’t accept your… offer?” What else should she call it? Dear God, she was out of her element.

“I am here to please you. If a bath and help dressing you pleases you, I’ll do both with a smile. Then I can tell my master that you were extremely content when I left you.”

Charlotte shook her head quickly, as though she could dislodge the errant thoughts running rampant and put them in order with a gentle shake. It didn’t work.

“Trent, His Grace as you call him, and my master are good friends. H e asked my master for the use of my services. I am not here against my will. Indeed, I’d looked forward to tonight.” She shrugged. “But it is not to be.” She took Charlotte by the shoulders and spun her around, then began to slowly work the fastenings of Charlotte’s gown. “Forgive me in advance if I still try,” she whispered against Charlotte’s shoulder as she pushed her gown down one arm. The hair on Charlotte’s arm stood up, as did every other hair on her body. Not to mention her nipples. They beaded into small points. Then Charlotte’s lips touched her bare shoulder. It was a brief touch, but it made Charlotte’s belly drop toward her toes. “Mary,” she warned.

“Beg your pardon,” the other woman said. But Charlotte could feel the curve of her smile against her skin. “Trent wanted me to try to seduce you. Without telling you why I’m here. To see how you would respond.”

“Not favorably,” Charlotte grunted.

Mary stepped in front of her and tugged the sleeves of her gown down her fingertips and then shoved it over her hips. “Your bath will be getting cold. I’ll call for more hot water as soon as I get you settled.”

“I can do the rest.” Charlotte turned her back to Mary. She stepped out of her drawers and tugged her chemise over her head.

“Allow me to help with the stockings,” Mary said quickly. Then she was on her knees be hind Charlotte, quicker than Charlotte could blink. Mary took Charlotte’s naked hips in her hands very gently, her fingers playing over her skin like the lightest breeze. Nothing at all like her late husband’s groping, gnarly hands.

“That’s not necessary,” Charlotte protested, stepping away from her. “I can do it.” I don’t know how to feel about your hands on me. They make my heart race. I’ve never felt like this. She slid her stockings down her legs in a quick thrust and stepped into the still-steaming water. She settled gingerly against the back and reached for the soap.

“Allow me, my lady,” Mary said, taking the soap in her own hand. “Sit forward.”

Charlotte supposed this was all right. Her maid did this for her. But for some reason, her maid didn’t make her heart pound in her chest the way Mary did.

“I unsettle you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A powerful one.

Charlotte nodded, her chin bobbing against her knee as Mary soaped her back. “Yes,” she agreed.

“I believe Trent wanted me to teach you some things…” Mary began hesitantly.

“What sort of things?”

“About pleasure.” She held up a hand when Charlotte began to sputter. “But since you’ve no interest in learning, perhaps we can talk.” She pushed Charlotte’s shoulder so that she reclined against the back of the tub. Charlotte’s breasts rose just above the water, and she settled deeper into the tub, until they were hidden. “Perfect,” Mary said on a whisper, not drawing her gaze from Charlotte’s breasts.

“There is nothing perfect about my body.”

“That’s what your husband told you?” She arched her delicate blond brows at Charlotte.

Charlotte obviously didn’t have to answer, because Mary just continued. “He was wrong.” She looked directly into Charlotte’s face when she said it.

“My hips are too wide. My breasts too small.” He’d said that and more. Much more. Each statement more hurtful than the next.

Mary’s hand dipped into the water and cupped one breast in a sudsy grip. “Your breast fills my hand,” she said quietly. “Look.”

Charlotte looked down hesitant to verify that Mary’s hand did, indeed, cup her breast in a firm, comfortable grip. Her husband’s grip had never been firm or comfortable. It had always hurt. Or shamed. And one was just as bad as the other.

“Stop thinking about him,” Mary whispered with a soft smile. “Think about me. About the way this feels.” She slowly stroked her thumb through the suds on Charlotte’s breast. Mary was all Charlotte could think about. Mary’s hand, Mary’s gentle touch, Mary’s soft voice, Mary’s silky tone. “ Have you ever reached climax?” Mary asked.

Charlotte had enough married friends who talked to know what climax was. But she wasn’t certain she’d ever had the pleasure. Mary laughed. “If you’re not certain, it never happened,” she said. Then, her voice a silky whisper, she prompted, “I can help you try it, just this once. No pressure. No man pushing you on. Just you and me.” She took Charlotte’s hand and cupped it around her other breast. “Touch yourself,” she urged.

This was wrong. So wrong. But Charlotte’s blood was thumping so loudly in her ears that she could hear it. “Something is happening to my body that I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Mary whispered. Her free hand dipped into the water between Charlotte’s legs.

“Don’t,” she cried. Charlotte clamped her legs closed tightly together trapping Mary’s hands in its place above her curls. She sat forward, causing her breasts to rise above the water.

“Relax,” the woman whispered. Then her head dipped and she drew Charlotte’s wet nipple into her mouth.

Heat immediately rushed through Charlotte’s body, a heat unlike any she’d ever felt before. She melted there in the bath, as Mary’s wicked little tongue tick l ed her nipple. Then she moved to the other breast, treating it in the same gentle manner. Charlotte relaxed, freeing Mary’s hand. When Mary lifted her head, Charlotte arched her back, wanting to pull her back down to her breasts. But then her hand began to play in Charlotte’s curls, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. With her gentle, silky fingers, she parted Charlotte’s folds and stole inside, stroking across that part of her that pounded.

“Oh, goodness,” Charlotte cried, laying her head back against the tub. She watched the satisfied smirk on Mary’s face, and didn’t care. Because what she was doing between her thighs was so deliciously wicked that she wouldn’t dare complain. This was what His Grace wanted. This was what His Grace would get. Just this once, she would allow herself this pleasure.

“Can it be this way with a man?” she asked quietly, a little sob in her voice that made her want to cringe. But the moment passed with the next pass across that nub.

“With the right man, yes,” Mary affirmed. “It can be better. It will be better with Trent than you could ever imagine. He’s a patient and powerful lover.”

The word powerful seemed out of place. She didn’t want a powerful man. She wanted this gentle woman.

“I’m here to show you what’s possible. Nothing more,” Mary reminded her.

Charlotte simply nodded, words escaping her. Mary’s hand continued its gentle exploration. One finger stole inside her, and then slid out just as quickly, taking Charlotte’s breath with it. That finger slipped through the heat of her, and then she used it to stroke across the little nub that was nearly so tender it was painful. In a very good way.

“That feels nice?” Mary asked. Charlotte watched her through hooded lashes, her head back on the edge of the tub.

Charlotte began to arch her hips, rising to meet that questing little hand. Mary chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed.

But then she stopped. She withdrew her hand. She stood up. Charlotte very nearly begged her to come back. But all good things must end, Charlotte assumed. “Come along,” Mary urged as she held out a towel. “I want to taste you,” she whispered to Charlotte as she dried her off.

“T-taste me?” Charlotte’s voice quaked.

“Yes,” Mary whispered, her lips a mere breath from hers. “Kiss me,” she dared with a smile. Then she touched her lips to Charlotte’s. Charlotte tentatively brushed her lips against Mary’s, keeping her lips closed and firm. “Soften for me,” Mary urged on a whisper. “My lips are soft. Yours can be, too. Open,” she commanded, and then the tip of her tongue teased at Charlotte’s lips. On Charlotte’s gasp, she swept inside, invading her mouth like a conquering warrior. She stepped forward, backing Charlotte toward the bed as she continued to wreak havoc on her senses. “I worried you would rebel,” she said when she finally lifted her head.

Charlotte had to drag herself from the passion induced haze she was in so she could respond. “I did, too.” A shiver stole up her body. “I should.”

Mary sounded much too cocky when she laughed and said, “But you won’t.” She pointed toward the bed. “Lay back.”

Charlotte scurried across the bed, and lay back, resting on her elbows, not at all ashamed of her nakedness. Not now. Not now that Mary had tasted her breasts. Not since she’d had her hands in the most private places she had. Now there was nothing to be ashamed of.

“You want me to make you climax,” Mary said as she lifted the edge of her dress and climbed up on the bed.

“Can you take this off?” Charlotte asked, fingering the soft material of her skirt.

Mary sighed heavily. “Alas, I am not allowed to find pleasure. Unless my master give s it to me.” She brushed Charlotte’s hair from the side of her face. “Perhaps another time, we’ll ask for permission and we can pleasure each other. With our men in the room. Watching.” She nibbled on Charlotte’s lower lip between each word, licking into her, the same way her finger had dipped into the cavern of her heat a moment before.

“Watching?” Charlotte gasped. She probably sounded like an addled parrot. But she didn’t care.

She shrugged. “They like to watch.” She looked down at Charlotte’s breasts and cupped one in each firm hand, lifting their small weight to her lips. “These really are perfect, you know,” she said as she sucked one nipple into her mouth. She played about the other with the pad of her thumb, until Charlotte was trembling in her grasp, her head hanging back, her breaths leaving her in gasps. Then she dropped her breasts and began a slow and leisurely lick down toward her curls.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to taste you,” Mary laughed.

“Down there?” Certainly, that wasn’t what she meant.

She laughed again, still that silky sound that made Charlotte even wetter.

Without stopping, Mary parted her folds and looked down at her. Charlotte, for a moment, wanted to hide herself in shame. But then one long finger slid inside her a nd she licked across that little nub of pleasure. Charlotte nearly leapt from the bed. But then she stilled and watched, her mouth hanging open in surprise. This was what it was all about? This tender, soft touch? It could be like this? She licked faster, and faster, and Charlotte found herself arching to meet her. She reached down and brushed the hair from Mary’s brow with a tender touch.

“A cock can feel this nice, too.” Mary lifted her head long enough to say, “You needed this.”

“ I did need this.” Tears burned at the backs of her lashes. Tears for all the years she’d lost. Tears for the man who’d sought to please her by giving her this lady. Tears for this woman, who gave so selflessly.

“Don’t cry,” Mary said, pressing a kiss to Charlotte’s inner thigh. Her thumb took over her tongue’s wicked little movements, and one finger joined the other already inside her. Charlotte pressed back against the gentle invasion. Then Mary crooked a finger, and swept it against some part of her she didn’t know existed.

“Oh, God,” Charlotte cried. “Please don’t stop,” she begged. Something was taking over her body. Her legs were trembling. Her bottom was arching in rhythm with those searching fingers. Her legs lay open, giving Mary all the access she needed. Then Mary latched onto that little nub of sensation with her mouth, and alternated between licking and suckling gently. And when she found a rhythm between the licking and suckling, waves of pleasure crashed over Charlotte’s body, stealing her very soul from her in that moment. She melted and quivered as she climaxed. As Mary wrung all the pleasure from her body. It was only when Charlotte pulled away, a little too sensitive for more stimulation, that Mary slowed. Then she stopped. She pulled her fingers from Charlotte’s sopping wet sheath, wiped them on the nearby towel and joined Charlotte on the bed.

Charlotte lay there beside her quivering, weakness seeking into her limbs as her heartbeat slowed to normal. She covered her eyes with her forearm. “I didn’t know it could be like that,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last. Tears seeped from beneath her arm, she knew. But that was the most beautiful things she’d ever experienced. “Thank you,” she sobbed, rolling toward Mary. Mary let her rest her head on her shoulder, and stroked her hair as she quieted, her sobs becoming gentle hiccups.

“You’re welcome,” she said quickly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. Then she patted Charlotte’s bare bottom. “We need to get you dressed. Trent will be here momentarily.”

Charlotte didn’t feel like she could move.

“Up,” Mary coaxed. Then she got up herself and began to roll a clean pair of stockings over Charlotte’s feet and up her calves. It tickled when she got to her thighs. But she tied the garters in place and rolled her over. She popped Charlotte’s bottom hard enough to sting.

“Ow,” Charlotte cried. But it hadn’t hurt. She got up and allowed Mary to finish dressing her.

“Who chose these clothes?” Charlotte asked.

“Someone on His Grace’s staff. He probably went directly to your dressmaker to have something new made.” Mary’s eyes met Charlotte’s. “You’re a fortunate woman. He does not take lovers casually, despite his reputation. He sees something in you.”

“You saw something in me,” Charlotte prompted hesitantly.

She tweaked her nose. “Because you’re something special to see.”

When Charlotte was all dressed, she spun to face the looking glass. “Do I look all right for him?”

“You look beautiful.” Mary bobbed a quick curtsy. “Thank you for letting me serve you tonight, my lady,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“Have you any idea where he’s taking me?”

But Mary didn’t answer. Instead, she slipped out the door as though she’d never been there. Only the smile on Charlotte’s face was evidence. A moment later, a knock sounded on the door. “ I’m here to dress your hair, miss,” a maid called out. She didn’t enter the room. Perhaps she knew what had been going on in the room. Charlotte hoped not.

“Enter,” Charlotte called absently. The girl dressed her hair, fluffed her dress and informed her that His Grace was waiting below stairs for her.

When she opened the door, she went to the top of the stairs, and found His Grace standing at the bottom, glancing at his time piece with a worried expression. “I hope you enjoyed your bath,” he said revealing none of the mirth or scorn she’d expected to see on his face. “And that everything was to your agreement.”

Heat suffused her face. “It was.”

He held out his crooked arm.

“Your Grace,” she began.

“Trent,” he said with a small smile. “I give you leave to use it.”

“Where are we going, Trent?”

“The Duke and Duchess of Charburton are having a gathering.”

Charlotte tripped over her own slipper. “The duke and duchess?”

“Yes,” he teased. “Don’t worry. It’s very informal.”

When arrived at the duke’s manor house, the duke and duchess met the hosts at the door. Her Grace was a regal creature, with her tumbling golden curls piled high atop her head. Her neck arched delicately to reveal naked shoulders and a beautiful dip in her bodice. It wasn’t until she l ooked directly into the duchess’ s eyes that she got the shock of a lifetime. “Your Grace,” Charlotte sputtered. She dropped into a quick curtsy.

“Call me Mary, dear. We’ll be great friends, I’m certain.” Her eyes sparkled and shone. And Charlotte’s heart flipped over in her chest.

Trent chuckled lightly from behind her. “Great friends, indeed.”

Content

Laurel Bennett
Her Gift — the Duchess