Page 51 of Taken By the Broken Duke
“Then do it! I shall provide you with all the resources you need financially. And what social pull I can muster, though the Templeton name is not yet what it should be.”
“It would take years,” she protested.
“Then take years!” he replied eagerly.
“If only things were so simple. I do not have years.”
She felt Horatio's embrace tighten around her, as though seeking to hold her to life by virtue of his embrace alone. Refusing to allow her spirit to leave her body. He drew her beneath his chin and held her ferociously there.
“If you leave this world, then I will pursue you like Orpheus. I have looked death in the face and lived to tell the tale. It can be done.”
The fire was sputtering low now, a change in the wind sending a haze of rain misting in through an empty window casement. A shower of sparks rose along with a hissing gray smoke.
Juliet glanced up at Horatio. The man who had volunteered himself for the role of hero to rescue her from the underworld. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that it was futile, her fate had been decided a long time ago. But Horatio stopped her with a finger to her lips.
Juliet looked into his eyes. He said nothing, simply watched her. It was all she needed. There was a smile playing across his lips. His eyes were dark and expressive. They communicated so much. Juliet felt his emotions, his compassion, and his resolve to act for the good. His face blurred before her eyes, screened by the tears that welled up in her own emerald ones.
She raised her head until her forehead touched his. Never had she felt so close to another person. Even when sharing physical intimacy with him, she had not felt this close.
But what did it change?
The illness which she suffered had killed her mother and destroyed her father's spirit. There was no cure and the only physician with any knowledge of it did not want to know her. There was no hope. Could be no hope. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted this life. Wanted a life with this man. A life with a future. But wanting it did not,could notmake it happen.
“You are refusing to believe that you have a life to live. That you have a future to look forward to. I will not give up this fight so easily. I cannot give up. I did not give up. When I was starving and alone, crawling along the road because I did not have the strength to walk... I still went on. And hope came where I could not have foreseen it. Believe in me, and I swear by you, I will find a way,” Horatio said gravely.
Such was the conviction in his voice that Julietwantedto believe him,wantedto surrender to his confidence.
“I am a stranger to hope,” she whispered. “You have known me a matter of two weeks. I could be gone from the world leaving behind no trace and no grief. If you were to forget me, it would spare you the pain of a widower. Free you to restore your family name.”
Horatio silenced her with another kiss. Thought fled. Worry fled. Juliet felt lighter than air. The burden that she had carried for her entire life lifted from her shoulders. She gave herself to Horatio's calm strength.
She reached up, stroking her fingertips down his angled cheeks, feeling the contours of his handsome face. Tracing his neck, she could feel his pulse. It thundered at her touch, matching her own. Despite the bound injury to his forearm, he held her tightly to him. She knew that he must be causing himself pain, but his desire for her was supreme, overcoming pain. Where he touched her, she felt as though the flimsy material of her shift was burning away. As though his passion and desire for her manifested as heat through his hands. The memory of his touchon her bare skin was intoxicating, making her head spin. She wanted it again, wanted to touch his skin, to taste him.
She felt herself moving back, surrendering to the pressure of his body above her. He was bearing her down and it did not matter that the floor was of stone. The heat from the flames was as nothing to the blazing inferno of the lust he awakened in her. As she lay back, his body pressed against her. Horatio suddenly groaned in pain, shifting to his side. Juliet realized then that as she had lifted her legs to circle his hips, her knee had pressed into his wounded flank.
“I am sorry!” she cried out, horrified.
Horatio grinned a tight smile of pain and shook his head. He lay back on his good side.
“My heart is willing, but I am afraid my body is weakening,” he muttered ruefully.
Juliet twisted from her back to her side so that she faced him. Face scarlet and chest heaving, she took a firm hold of the front of her shift with both hands and pulled hard. The material stretched and then tore, the rip opening down the middle. Horatio's eyes widened at the sight of her naked breasts. Juliet pushed the material from her shoulders and down to her waist, then beyond. She lay before him, utterly naked. Horatio boldly ran his eyes over her body from head to toe. His gaze was like a physical caress. She could almost feel each part of her it lingered over.
“Is there a way to do this that will not cause you pain or exacerbate your injury?” she asked innocently.
There was no way that she could imagine making love that was possible with such an injury. She hoped desperately that Horatio could think of a way. He kissed her lips, softly, then with increasing desire. He kissed her breasts, one followed by the other. Then her stomach.
“There is a way. It is primitive and animalistic. And possibly sinful.”
“Then I wish to be sinful,” she whispered hoarsely.
Horatio smirked.
He gripped her waist and spun her effortlessly, positioning her with a confidence that sent a thrill through her. She let him move her, her body pliant under his hands as he positioned her exactly how he wanted. When she glanced back over her shoulder, his smoldering gaze pinned her in place.
He was on her then, his chest pressing against her back, his breath hot against her ear. His mouth claimed her neck, his tongue dragging over her skin in a way that made her gasp. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, kneading, teasing until her moans filled the room. Every touch was deliberate, every movement designed to unravel her completely.
When he finally entered her, she cried out sharply, her body arching under the sudden fullness. He gripped her hips hard, holding her firmly as he began to move. His strokes were deep, relentless, each one driving her closer to the edge. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a rhythmic slap that mingled with her soft cries and the guttural groans escaping his throat.
