Duke's Invitation: A Night's Embrace

Surely you can’t mean you’re just going to come in and make yourself at home like you…you’re…

“Like I’m what? Your husband?” There was a wicked glimmer in Jack Barden’s eyes. He sat himself on the end of the bed and proceeded to nonchalantly pull off his boots.

Hazel watched in shock. Was the man really going to spend the night in her room? Never mind that they were husband and wife. He was the Duke of Amberly, a respected man in his circles. Why he had ever chosen her, country girl Hazel Carling, was beyond her.

And yet…she wanted him here.

She cursed herself for allowing that thought into her mind. This marriage was not a love match. At least, she didn’t see how he could be in love with her. He never said anything to make her think so. But there was attraction. She knew that. And right now she just couldn’t fight it. The duke was a very handsome man, and now, wearing only his tan trousers and his white shirt, which was open enough to show his hard tanned chest, he was almost sinfully sexy.

Hazel never thought herself any great catch. She had long been a maid in a country inn, forced to earn her living after the deaths of her parents from cholera. She assumed she would remain unmarried, or perhaps marry one of the pleasant, stolid farmers who viewed marriage as the easy way to procure a housekeeper. For many poor girls in 1820s England, this was a likely fate.

Then Jack Barden rode in on his return from service in the navy and almost made her faint when his dark manly eyes fell on her. He was a grave man, serious, intent on whatever task he had at hand. She liked that. In his presence she felt safe.

So she was astonished when he proposed marriage. Was he out of his mind? He was a nobleman, expected to produce an heir and continue his honorable family line. No, he meant it.

They had been married almost immediately, since he had connections through his title. Hazel was in awe of his beautiful country home, a kind of dwelling she’d never set foot in. He made one request: that she fulfil the domestic duties of lady of the house. Of course she agreed. Life in this place would be a pleasure. But it soon became evident to her that he was seeing her not solely as his housekeeper.

Tonight marked one month since their wedding. She had enjoyed the privacy of her own apartments, generously appropriated by the duke. Thus she was greatly startled when he strode in, closing the door behind him with great deliberation, and in a state of undress she had never seen him in. It seemed so improper. Besides, she had just begun undressing herself, the back of her red satin gown unfastened. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep the bodice from slipping down.

“It struck me just now when I went to my room,” the duke began, rising and beginning to unbutton his shirt, “that we are the duke and duchess. Why should we be in separate rooms?”

She swallowed a little nervously. It was hard not to drink in the sight of him, standing tall and broad-shouldered and unashamedly manly. “It was your idea, sir,” she began.

“Sir? Hazel, you’re my wife. Call me by my name. Jack.”

“This isn’t a good idea…Jack.” She liked saying his name. Her eye darted to meet his.

From the second he’d seen her in that homely inn, Jack Barden knew he’d found a rare woman, the kind he needed. The kind he wanted. She was a lady in spite of her poverty. Now, dressed in wine-red, her skin the shade of bronze that Italian women were blest with, and her black hair falling in thick ringlets down her back, she allured him more than ever. He wanted to walk over and grab her in his strong arms and press his mouth to her beautiful red lips. But he mustn’t do too much at once. Barging into her room like this was enough of a shock. So he held himself in.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he declared, forgetting what she’d last said.

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his compliment. She admitted to herself that it was sweet to be so desirable in his eyes. If she had the courage, she would tell him how desirable he was in hers. But how could she? He might just be playing a game. He was a duke and had the right. Or he might be drunk and didn’t have full control of his faculties. Then she remembered. He didn’t drink.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he spoke. His voice was softer.

Hazel quivered. She moved towards him, then stopped. “Why did you come in here? It’s…still early, too early for sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face, loving the design and contour of it the more he looked. “I know. I was brash. But I wondered…”

Her heart raced. She felt her body tingle, the depths of her belly tensing up in delicious anticipation. But…she didn’t want him to use her for the night and then leave. Many men selfishly viewed their wives as the means to release, and marriages were truly one-sided as far as pleasure was concerned. She was not a plaything. She was a woman who wanted to receive the same kind of love she was giving.

She cursed herself for allowing that thought into her mind. It was agony to keep away from him. She liked saying his name. Her eye darted to meet his.

From the second he’d seen her in that homely inn, Jack Barden knew he’d found a rare woman, the kind he needed. The kind he wanted. She was a lady in spite of her poverty. Now, dressed in wine-red, her skin the shade of bronze that Italian women were blest with, and her black hair falling in thick ringlets down her back, she allured him more than ever. He wanted to walk over and grab her in his strong arms and press his mouth to her beautiful red lips. But he mustn’t do too much at once. Barging into her room like this was enough of a shock. So he held himself in.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he declared, forgetting what she’d last said.

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his compliment. She admitted to herself that it was sweet to be so desirable in his eyes. If she had the courage, she would tell him how desirable he was in hers. But how could she? He might just be playing a game. He was a duke and had the right. Or he might be drunk and didn’t have full control of his faculties. Then she remembered. He didn’t drink.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he spoke. His voice was softer.

Hazel quivered. She moved towards him, then stopped. “Why did you come in here? It’s…still early, too early for sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face, loving the design and contour of it the more he looked. “I know. I was brash. But I wondered…”

Her heart raced. She felt her body tingle, the depths of her belly tensing up in delicious anticipation. But…she didn’t want him to use her for the night and then leave. Many men selfishly viewed their wives as the means to release, and marriages were truly one-sided as far as pleasure was concerned. She was not a plaything. She was a woman who wanted to receive the same kind of love she was giving.

She cursed herself for allowing that thought into her mind. It was agony to keep away from him. She liked saying his name. Her eye darted to meet his.

His slow, deliberate gait as he neared her snapped her back to the moment. “From the minute I saw you, I wanted you, Hazel,” he said, his voice low and a little husky. To Hazel’s confusion and delight, his breeches had begun to bulge in the front. She was embarrassed, yet thrilled to know that she was the cause of his arousal.

“I don’t want a fling for a night, as if I was a loose woman you visit to pay for lovemaking,” she whispered.

“You think that’s what I’m going to do?” He sounded a little startled and hurt.

“Are you?” She couldn’t stop the question.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising. Her lovely, windblown beauty was driving him mad. His loins ached for relief. “No. Don’t you see what you do to me?”

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his compliment. She admitted to herself that it was sweet to be so desirable in his eyes. If she had the courage, she would tell him how desirable he was in hers. But how could she? He might just be playing a game. He was a duke and had the right. Or he might be drunk and didn’t have full control of his faculties. Then she remembered. He didn’t drink.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he spoke. His voice was softer.

Hazel quivered. She moved towards him, then stopped. “Why did you come in here? It’s…still early, too early for sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face, loving the design and contour of it the more he looked. “I know. I was brash. But I wondered…”

Her heart raced. She felt her body tingle, the depths of her belly tensing up in delicious anticipation. But…she didn’t want him to use her for the night and then leave. Many men selfishly viewed their wives as the means to release, and marriages were truly one-sided as far as pleasure was concerned. She was not a plaything. She was a woman who wanted to receive the same kind of love she was giving.

She cursed herself for allowing that thought into her mind. It was agony to keep away from him. She liked saying his name. Her eye darted to meet his.

His slow, deliberate gait as he neared her snapped her back to the moment. “From the minute I saw you, I wanted you, Hazel,” he said, his voice low and a little husky. To Hazel’s confusion and delight, his breeches had begun to bulge in the front. She was embarrassed, yet thrilled to know that she was the cause of his arousal.

“I don’t want a fling for a night, as if I was a loose woman you visit to pay for lovemaking,” she whispered.

“You think that’s what I’m going to do?” He sounded a little startled and hurt.

“Are you?” She couldn’t stop the question.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising. Her lovely, windblown beauty was driving him mad. His loins ached for relief. “No. Don’t you see what you do to me?”

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his compliment. She admitted to herself that it was sweet to be so desirable in his eyes. If she had the courage, she would tell him how desirable he was in hers. But how could she? He might just be playing a game. He was a duke and had the right. Or he might be drunk and didn’t have full control of his faculties. Then she remembered. He didn’t drink.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he spoke. His voice was softer.

Hazel quivered. She moved towards him, then stopped. “Why did you come in here? It’s…still early, too early for sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face, loving the design and contour of it the more he looked. “I know. I was brash. But I wondered…”

Her heart raced. She felt her body tingle, the depths of her belly tensing up in delicious anticipation. But…she didn’t want him to use her for the night and then leave. Many men selfishly viewed their wives as the means to release, and marriages were truly one-sided as far as pleasure was concerned. She was not a plaything. She was a woman who wanted to receive the same kind of love she was giving.

She cursed herself for allowing that thought into her mind. It was agony to keep away from him. She liked saying his name. Her eye darted to meet his.

His slow, deliberate gait as he neared her snapped her back to the moment. “From the minute I saw you, I wanted you, Hazel,” he said, his voice low and a little husky. To Hazel’s confusion and delight, his breeches had begun to bulge in the front. She was embarrassed, yet thrilled to know that she was the cause of his arousal.

“I don’t want a fling for a night, as if I was a loose woman you visit to pay for lovemaking,” she whispered.

“You think that’s what I’m going to do?” He sounded a little startled and hurt.

“Are you?” She couldn’t stop the question.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising. Her lovely, windblown beauty was driving him mad. His loins ached for relief. “No. Don’t you see what you do to me?”

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his compliment. She admitted to herself that it was sweet to be so desirable in his eyes. If she had the courage, she would tell him how desirable he was in hers. But how could she? He might just be playing a game. He was a duke and had the right. Or he might be drunk and didn’t have full control of his faculties. Then she remembered. He didn’t drink.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he spoke. His voice was softer.

Hazel quivered. She moved towards him, then stopped. “Why did you come in here? It’s…still early, too early for sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face, loving the design and contour of it the more he looked. “I know. I was brash. But I wondered…”

Her heart raced. She felt her body tingle, the depths of her belly tensing up in delicious anticipation. But…she didn’t want him to use her for the night and then leave. Many men selfishly viewed their wives as the means to release, and marriages were truly one-sided as far as pleasure was concerned. She was not a plaything. She was a woman who wanted to receive the same kind of love she was giving.

She cursed herself for allowing that thought into her mind. It was agony to keep away from him. She liked saying his name. Her eye darted to meet his.

His slow, deliberate gait as he neared her snapped her back to the moment. “From the minute I saw you, I wanted you, Hazel,” he said, his voice low and a little husky. To Hazel’s confusion and delight, his breeches had begun to bulge in the front. She was embarrassed, yet thrilled to know that she was the cause of his arousal.

“I don’t want a fling for a night, as if I was a loose woman you visit to pay for lovemaking,” she whispered.

“You think that’s what I’m going to do?” He sounded a little startled and hurt.

“Are you?” She couldn’t stop the question.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising. Her lovely, windblown beauty was driving him mad. His loins ached for relief. “No. Don’t you see what you do to me?”

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his compliment. She admitted to herself that it was sweet to be so desirable in his eyes. If she had the courage, she would tell him how desirable he was in hers. But how could she? He might just be playing a game. He was a duke and had the right. Or he might be drunk and didn’t have full control of his faculties. Then she remembered. He didn’t drink.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he spoke. His voice was softer.

Hazel quivered. She moved towards him, then stopped. “Why did you come in here? It’s…still early, too early for sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face, loving the design and contour of it the more he looked. “I know. I was brash. But I wondered…”

Her heart raced. She felt her body tingle, the depths of her belly tensing up in delicious anticipation. But…she didn’t want him to use her for the night and then leave. Many men selfishly viewed their wives as the means to release, and marriages were truly one-sided as far as pleasure was concerned. She was not a plaything. She was a woman who wanted to receive the same kind of love she was giving.

She cursed herself for allowing that thought into her mind. It was agony to keep away from him. She liked saying his name. Her eye darted to meet his.

His slow, deliberate gait as he neared her snapped her back to the moment. “From the minute I saw you, I wanted you, Hazel,” he said, his voice low and a little husky. To Hazel’s confusion and delight, his breeches had begun to bulge in the front. She was embarrassed, yet thrilled to know that she was the cause of his arousal.

“I don’t want a fling for a night, as if I was a loose woman you visit to pay for lovemaking,” she whispered.

“You think that’s what I’m going to do?” He sounded a little startled and hurt.

“Are you?” She couldn’t stop the question.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising. Her lovely, windblown beauty was driving him mad. His loins ached for relief. “No. Don’t you see what you do to me?”

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at his compliment. She admitted to herself that it was sweet to be so desirable in his eyes. If she had the courage, she would tell him how desirable he was in hers. But how could she? He might just be playing a game. He was a duke and had the right. Or he might be drunk and didn’t have full control of his faculties. Then she remembered. He didn’t drink.

“Tell me to leave, and I will,” he spoke. His voice was softer.

Hazel quivered. She moved towards him, then stopped. “Why did you come in here? It’s…still early, too early for sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face, loving the design and contour of it the more he looked. “I know. I was brash. But I wondered…”

Her heart raced. She felt her body tingle, the depths of her belly tensing up in delicious anticipation. But…she didn’t want him to use her for the night and then leave. Many men selfishly viewed their wives as the means to release, and marriages were truly one-sided as far as pleasure was concerned. She was not

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