Darcy sat astride her grey mare, Montclair, and galloped as fast as her mount would carry her down Rotten Row. The park was deserted, bar her groom Peter who sat atop his horse under a copse of trees not too far away.

The sensation of flying always invigorated Darcy, and she patted her mare as they trotted to a stop, turning her back toward her groom. They had been out for some time already, and soon the park would have the early morning riders who would not take well the sight of a woman, astride and galloping down the row. All faux pas according to the ton, and rules that Darcy always enjoyed ignoring.

She trotted back to Peter and smiled. “Time to return I think.”

“Right ye are, my lady.”

Darcy rode ahead, and as they walked the horses across the park toward the northern gate, a group of men entered on beautiful, well-bred mounts that Darcy couldn’t help but appreciate. But only one man stood out more than the rest.

Athelby…

They stopped and dipped their hats and Darcy in turn smiled but didn’t slow. “Good morning, gentleman,” she said, liking the fact that all of them present threw her admiring glances. She had worn today her newly purchased silk jockey bonnet, that went perfectly with her navy-blue riding suit with gold buttons, she looked almost regimental. Not to mention the colouring always complimented her blue eyes.

The men moved on, but one.

“Go ahead, Peter,” she said, stopping now that Athelby had. “I wish to have a word with the duke.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, doing as she bid.

Athelby turned his horse to come up alongside hers. Darcy raised one brow but didn’t say a word. After they had left each other two nights past, she’d not seen him at any events. Was he avoiding her again? More than likely, and it wasn’t to be borne. He could not raise such deliciousness within her and then disappear. Her husband had never given her such pleasure in the short amount of time they were married, and other than giving herself release a few small times, with Athelby it was the first a man had raised such emotions.

She wouldn’t allow it. The duke of Athelby was going to be her lover if it were the last thing she did this Season.

“Are you well, my lady?” he asked, his tone distant, and yet his eyes were the window to his soul, and she could see he was struggling. What that struggle was exactly she couldn’t be sure. Wanting her while fighting the emotion or her ineligibility due to his standards she would assume. He’d always been such a stickler for rules, to disregard them after finding pleasure in her arms, would go against all that he believed in.

He wanted her, that she had no doubt. But would he act on it, really act on it and make her fully his? That, Darcy wasn’t certain of.

“I am very well, thank you. And you?” If he was going to be all formal and absurd, then so was she.

“I am well.” His jaw clenched, and he looked away, adjusting his seat a little. The action made her attention snap to his thighs, and she bit her bottom lip seeing that he had very muscular legs and that the tan breeches he had on were very much accentuating his fine form.

It was crass of Darcy to ogle the man in such a way, but really, what was one to do when she found him absurdly attractive and that if she had her way, she’d help him out of those breeches and not let him get back into them again until she was fully satisfied.

“I want to kiss you.” The words sounded torn, a deep rumble that tumbled her common sense into dangerous ground.

Ignoring all sense of decorum, and considering they were a little way from the gates of Hyde Park, Darcy tempted fate. She leaned toward the duke and caught his gaze. “Then kiss me, Athelby.”

His attention slid to her lips and for a moment she actually believed he would do as she asked, before he thought better of it and straightened his spine. “I cannot kiss you here.”

She shrugged, knowing that was too true, but wanting to tease him a little about it in any case. “Pity, I so dearly would love for you to.” Darcy pulled her horse to come around the back of Athelby’s and took the opportunity to slide one finger across his bottom and down one leg as she went.

“Are you attending the Leeders’ ball this evening?”

“Yes,” he said, pushing her hand off his thigh.

She grinned. “Maybe we can continue to further our acquaintance there?” Her words, finally, and triumphantly brought out a small grin from the duke, and Darcy chuckled. How handsome and approachable he was when he wasn’t scowling at everyone, growling like a lion with a prickle in its paw.

“Well then,” she said, moving off. “I shall see you there, your grace.” Darcy trotted off and didn’t turn back to look at the duke, but he was watching her, more than likely debating all the pros and cons of doing what they both wanted.

Each other.

By midnight, Darcy had all but given up hope that the duke would attend the Leeders’ annual ball. She stood beside a grouping of house plants and swallowed down the last of the numerous glasses of champagne she’d already had this evening.

Damn him. If he thought to avoid her again, run away like a little man-child he could think again. She wouldn’t allow it. Even though tonight there was little she could do.

This late in the evening, the guests were well in their cups, the dancing was still the focal point, although some of the gentlemen had wandered into the card room and had commenced gambling.

Darcy sighed and placed her glass on a passing footman’s tray and debated taking another or going home. Even her friend Fran had left some hours ago, and Darcy had only stayed due to the possibility Athelby would arrive.

He would pay for this deception.

She took another glass and sipped. She would give him until this drink to arrive and then she was going home. Distracted by her annoyance at the duke, she didn’t notice the gentleman who came to stand beside her. It wasn’t until a warm finger touched the nape of her neck and slid down the full length of her spine, going all the way down to her bottom.

Darcy grinned as hope bloomed in her chest. She took another sip. “How very inappropriate of you, duke.”

He leaned close to her ear, his whispered words igniting fire in her blood. “I want to be inappropriate with you. Only you.”

The breath in her lungs seized and she swallowed. She wasn’t used to the duke turning the tables on her and being the one to seduce. It was normally she who goaded and taunted. Even so, it was refreshing and so very arousing to have the duke do it instead.

“Dance with me, Darcy.”

This time she did place her glass down on a passing footman’s tray, and let him lead her onto the dance floor for a waltz. She went into his arms willingly, needing to be close to him, to smell his freshly laundered clothes, his sandalwood cologne, and something else that was just Athelby.

A little alarm went off in her mind that she was getting herself too involved with Athelby, seeing possibility where no possibility should be seen. “You’re a very good dancer for a man who doesn’t often take to the floor.”

He moved them with grace and ease about the room, and considering his height and her own, they fit perfectly, and their dance was effortless.

“I had a very good teacher and of course, I was the most avid student.”

“Why is that so easy to believe.” Darcy chuckled, and he frowned.

“You should not mock people merely because they take an interest in all that they learn. I have never done things by halves and I should not start now.”

“And yet,” she said, wanting to harass him a little more. “You’ve teased me, only completed half of what I want you to do with me, so who is the bad student now?”

Desire burned in his gaze and she shuffled closer still. “I want you in my bed, Athelby. And I want it soon.”

He tripped a little, but righted them quick enough that no other dancers about them noticed. “Lady de Wolfe, while I–”

“Don’t you dare, your grace. You will finish what we both started. What we both want.”

For a time he was silent, and Darcy fought not to lose her temper with him. It was not at all gentlemanly, if this was a gentlemanly act at all, to cry off and leave her wanting him fiercely, while he pushed down his own desires and refused her. Right at this moment, she damned his brother to the pits of hell for scaring his younger sibling into being a prude.

“Darcy I…” Again, he stumbled over his words, and she took pity on him. Maybe he wasn’t going to cry off. Run away like she thought he would.

“What Athelby. What say you?”

The little frown line was back between his brow, and she wanted to reach up and smooth it away with her finger. But here and now was not the time.

“I’m…I’m… God damn it all to hell,” he swore. “I’ve never been with a woman in that way before,” he whispered, looking about to ensure no one was listening.

Darcy didn’t react, for she knew that already. Had suspected when he’d not known how to touch her. The kissing he had taken to very well and quickly indeed, but the touching of her at the musical loo had only occurred because she’d told him what to do, where to touch.

To know no one had had the man in her arms before was more exciting than anything she’d ever known in her life. To have it confirmed doubly so. Maybe that was why husbands found gaining brides who were untouched so arousing. She could certainly agree with the notion a lot more now that she had Athelby in much the same way.

“I know,” she said, playing with the little bit of hair at the base of his nape. “And if anything, knowing this only makes me want you all the more.”

Their dance had slowed and they stood scandalously close, but for the first time ever, it seemed the Duke of Athelby was not concerned with proper etiquette and correct behaviour.

“I will not have you at a ball,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight spin as they came to the end of the room. “I want you in my bed. Not in a window alcove.”

“I found our last rendezvous in the window alcove very rewarding indeed. I could make the same a possibility for you. There are ways you know, for a woman to pleasure a man in much the same way.”

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “The thought of us, of you doing such things to me, please do not say it here. No one wants to see the duke of Athelby hobbling off the dance floor with his cock pushing out the front of his breeches.”

Darcy laughed, taking a quick glance downwards just for fun. “Take me back to your home. Let me show you all that there can be between a man and woman.”

“No, I do not wish to rush this with you.”

Although disappointed, she could understand his caution. “Very well, we shall take it slow, but promise me after this dance, we will leave, together and in your carriage. If I do not kiss you soon, I shall expire.”

Thankfully the dance came to an end, and they were able to make their goodbyes to their hosts for the evening. Darcy called for her carriage and spoke to her maid, notifying her that she had other transport to return home.

Using the shield of her carriage, she walked two steps and jumped up into the duke’s. No sooner had she sat on the squabs than did the horses move on and they were on their way.

“I told the coachman to drive around until advised otherwise.”

Darcy went about untying the rolled-up blinds and pulling them down over the windows.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not moving from the seat opposite her, simply watching her with amusement.

“Making this little abode private so no one can see in.”

“In that case,” he said, leaning forward, he snipped the locks on the doors and now they were fully alone and unable to be disturbed.

Settling back on his seat, Darcy watched him for a moment.

“What now, de Wolfe?” he asked, grinning a little.

She bit her lip, desire curling throughout her body. “What indeed Athelby.”

Later that evening Athelby would wonder how the hell he’d not know the carriage could be a vessel of pure, unadulterated pleasure. For years he’d travelled within such an abode, seen couples alight from their vehicles and often deliberated why the women looked starry eyed and the men most pleased.

His brother had certainly looked such often enough.

Now he knew the reasons behind all that. For Darcy de Wolfe had shown him what he could have between them if he choose.

Darcy moved from the other seat and came to sit beside him on his. Hells blood, she smelt good enough to eat. As sweet as a rose and as pretty as one as well. Unable to deny himself, he cupped her jaw and kissed the side of her mouth. Small little kisses across her neck toward the base of her ear. His attempt to seduce her seemed to work if her soft sighs against his ears were any indication.

“I’m going to pleasure you, duke. Now sit back,” she said, pushing him against the squabs. “And enjoy.”

Damn it, he bit back a groan at her lascivious promise. As it was his cock sat rigid in his pants, ready and waiting for her to do whatever it was she had planned.

“Promise me that whatever I do, you’ll not try and stop me. Know, that what I’m doing is because I want to, that it’s acceptable and will be enjoyable.”

“Very well,” he said, not willing to deny her anything.

He shifted his legs further apart as slowly, delicately she undid his front falls. Athelby tried not to cringe when his cock sprung forward, eager for her touch. She ran her finger along the top of his cock, taking the little bead of moisture that sat there and slid it between her lips, licking it.

“Fuck,” he gasped, having never used such a word or imagined such an action was possible, or that anyone would want to do such a thing for that matter. But to see Darcy do so, had his heart beating a million times too fast, his body not his own. For right now, at this very moment, Darcy owned him. All of him.

And damn it all to hell he wanted to do the same to her. Lie her back on the squabs, part her lovely long legs and lick her from ankle to core. The thought of what she’d taste like there, the crude naughtiness of it left his cock more rigid and he fought not to clasp Darcy’s cheeks and guide her over him.

Kneeling in front of him, her gaze captured his and her perfect pink tongue came out and licked him from base to tip. Athelby fought not to pass out from the wonderful sensation of having her suck his cock.

He’d missed out on so much and the thought maddened him before she stroked her tongue over his throbbing length again and he lost all thought.

“You’re teasing me,” he said breathlessly.

She grinned, licking him a third time. “Good things come to those who wait.” But she didn’t make him wait too much longer. Fascinated, he watched her lips circle the top of his cock and slide down, taking a good third of his phallus before she started the opposite way. Athelby did clasp her face then, if only to anchor himself to reality. Darcy’s sucking, licking, teasing of him was relentless, an endless torture that made his stomach clench and his balls ache. Her tongue was soft against his skin, pushing against his pulsating veins.

Dear heaven he was lost…

For what was probably only minutes, but felt like hours of pleasure, she sucked him, used her small hand about the base of his cock and stroked while her mouth entwined magic about his soul.

Never did he ever have any idea such a thing was possible. That a woman would take a man so, and seemingly enjoy it if Darcy’s aroused moans and breathy sighs were any indication.

The carriage turned a corner and he caught her arm, and braced them both by pushing against the window. Darcy adjusted and took him deeper, clasping his balls after each glide of her hand and mouth. The action, a little different than before, but more determined had stars form before his eyes.

Athelby found himself pushing into her mouth, such an ungentlemanly thing to do, but he could not help himself. The need to reach the pinnacle that he’d long denied himself was too much to ignore. He wanted to fuck her mouth, hard, do base things with her and make her come against his own face.

All these thoughts bombarded his mind, and crying out, he climaxed He tried to pull away, to save some dignity for himself, and her too, but Darcy wouldn’t have it. She stayed fixed upon his cock, licking him, sucking and swallowing all that she pulled forth from his release.

His breath ragged, he stared at her as with a little wipe of the corner of her mouth, she sat back on her hunches and grinned. “How do you feel, your grace?”

How did he feel? By God, he felt lethargic, hungry for more, intoxicated, drunk on her and what she did to him. “I did not know that it could… That a woman could do such an act to a man. I never listened to the bawdy talk that sometimes occurred at my club.”

Darcy came to sit beside him, kissing him gently, slowly that only aroused him to have more of her. He could taste himself on her, and his cock twitched. “There are lots of things we can do, if you’re willing.”

Athelby warred with himself. He wanted her, knew that he’d go mad if he didn’t have her soon, but to engage in a liaison wasn’t something he considered respectable. Darcy needed to be his wife, and perhaps, should he play by her rules for a time, she would come to see the same. He could not just sleep with a woman and then leave her to the wolves, something his brother often partook in.

He tapped on the roof, signalling the driver to return Darcy home. “Will I see you at Duncannon’s ball two nights from now? I will give you my answer then.”

Darcy righted her gown and sat back against the squabs, tidying her hair and ensuring it was similar to how she’d had it set before going out for the night. “Very well, I shall wait to hear what you choose.”

“Thank you,” he said, frowning at the fact she was annoyed by his hesitation in having an affair with her. Not that he didn’t want her, he did. Desperately so.

But by having her, losing himself to her, did that mean he also lost who he was, what he believed to be right. At this time, he couldn’t see any other way forward but that path, and Athelby wasn’t sure anything, even Darcy was worth losing his values over.