A Vixen for the Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 2)
A Vixen for the Duke: Chapter 16

Morgan smiled, watching Harriet from across the lawn. Her hair was frizzy and golden in the twilight sun. Although she always tried her best to fix it back in an updo, most of her curls seemed to find their way loose at some point throughout the day.

Her tongue poked out of her lips, and a grimace was affixed to her face as she put the finishing touches on a flower crown in her hands. When she was happy with the finishing touches, she proudly fixed it on Daphne’s head. Daphne leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Harriet before she got up and ran off.

The day had been quite nice already. The group had played games and enjoyed the weather. It was starting to show the first signs of summertime. Now, it was nearing the evening, and Lucy had already retired, leaving the rest of the group in the garden.

Morgan hadn’t slept much after his guests had left the evening prior. In the past weeks, his feelings for Harriet had reached a fever pitch. After he had so foolishly gone and spent yet another evening with her, it had come to his attention that this wasn’t a feeling that would go away so long as he was around her. After several hours of trying to fall asleep the night prior, he had finally made up his mind that he would have to eventually tell her how he felt.

It seemed he’d have to wait, however. His uncle had advised him to. It had only been a few months since Lord Northwick had left her. She was still confused, and he didn’t want to make things more difficult for her.

He rose from the garden chair and walked across the lawn. Harriet smiled up at him, leaning back on her hands, her fingers combing through the grass. She looked back, laughing at the sight of Oliver chasing Daphne around the lawn. Morgan sat down in the grass beside her.

“Uncle will be complaining of his back for the next week,” he murmured, frowning.

“It is a small price to pay for the smile on her face,” Harriet said.

“That it is.”

They sat there for a few minutes watching the game of chase. Morgan wondered if Harriet was distracted as he was. It was nice just being with her, but sometimes, he felt so frustrated around her. He’d been avoiding time spent alone with her. Despite his best intentions, they had ended up too close once before.

“I thought about what you said last night,” Harriet said.

“What exactly?”

“My grudge is not against your uncle, but rather a conversation I’ve yet to have with my aunt.” She paused, glancing down at the grass, her eyelids heavy. “I have been selfish. She loves your uncle. I failed to empathise with how much losing that feeling could hurt.”

Morgan nodded. He wondered what had changed her mind. He would have been lying if he said that he wished it were him. “To be fair,” he said, leaning close enough to her so that he could keep his voice low, “I do not think either of them has noticed how much they focus on each other.”

“That makes me feel better, thank you.”

There was another pause. If Morgan was being honest about how he was feeling, he might have pulled at his hair or groaned at his own frustration. It felt impossible to be so close to her yet incapable of holding her. He tamped the feeling down and sat perfectly still, keenly aware of how close she sat next to him.

“I want to talk to you,” she said.

This late into the day as the twilight was setting around them, crickets sang in the grass, and the frogs in the creak began their bellows.

“Go on, then.”

“No.” She smiled, then laughed awkwardly and bit her lip. “I do not mean like this. Not right now.”

He swallowed hard. Did she mean alone? “Then, how?”

She glanced at the rest of the group, checking to make sure that they were out of earshot. “I was hoping we could get a moment alone together.”

Morgan inhaled sharply. He cleared his throat, trying to play off how much her admission had surprised him. “Do you think that is a good idea?” he asked. “Is this not something you can tell me now?”

Harriet stilled, fixing her eyes on his and shaking her head firmly. “I want to be alone with you,” she insisted.

At first, Morgan really did think there was something she wanted to talk about, but now, he was beginning to think that she had just wanted to kiss him again. He wasn’t about to say no.

He nodded. “If you believe it to be worth the risk, then I will find the time.” He smiled. “It might take a few days.” He wished it didn’t have to. He would be thinking about it constantly until he found a moment where they could sneak away without much of a risk that anyone would notice.

“Thank you,” she said, glancing at his lips.

Morgan started at a shout from across the lawn. Upon seeing Daphne curled up in a ball on the ground, he leapt off and helped Harriet to her feet. He ran over to his cousin. Oliver was down on one knee, looking at Daphne’s leg. She whined as he rolled her ankle with his hand.

“Oh goodness, you have sprained or pulled a muscle,” Oliver told his daughter. “It is nothing dire. A little rest should fix you up.”

“We should get her upstairs to one of the guest rooms,” Bridget said, placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “It is getting late. Perhaps you ought to stay the night instead of walking back home.”

Morgan dropped to the ground beside his cousin. “I can carry her home. I am not sure I would rest easy knowing that she is far from home.”

“Nonsense.” Bridget waved her hand dismissively. “Carry her upstairs.”

“It is better we get her into bed right away,” Oliver agreed.

Morgan frowned. They seemed insistent. Perhaps this was just a good excuse for them to spend the night together. He wasn’t one to hinder anyone’s evening plans. And Daphne seemed to be desperate for some rest as well.

“Come here,” he said, prompting his cousin to wrap her arms around his neck. He picked her up in his arms.

Bridget smiled. “I have more than enough rooms for you to stay if Harriet can share a room with her sister tonight.”

“I—I hate to impose.” Morgan shook his head.

“You are not, dear. I am happy to have you.” Bridget looked at Harriet. “Go on, then. Show them upstairs and get Lady Daphne comfortable in your room. You can sleep in your sister’s room this evening.”

Harriet nodded. “Yes, of course.”

She began walking back to the house, and Morgan followed. Once inside, she guided them up the stairs and brought them down the hall to her bedroom. She pulled back the covers on her bed, and Morgan helped tuck Daphne in. She whimpered when he laid her down.

“I’ll be right back,” Harriet said before leaving the room.

“It is all right,” Morgan reassured his cousin, tucking a rolled-up blanket under her ankle. “Hopefully you just pulled a muscle,” he said. “Some sleep should help you feel better.”

Daphne nodded, her eyes fixed on the doorway behind him. He turned to see Harriet return with a bucket and a rag. She sat on the edge of the bed by Daphne’s feet and wet the rag with cool water. “You should go back downstairs,” she said to him. “I will take care of her.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a short bow and stepped out of the room. On the other side of the threshold, he paused, looking in. Harriet pressed the rag to Daphne’s ankle.

“Ow! Ow!”

“It’s all right,” Harriet whispered. “The cold water should help the swelling go down. You will feel better in just a bit, I promise.” Daphne calmed down immediately at the sound of Harriet’s soothing voice. “Once I wrap your ankle, you’ll be sleeping soundly within minutes.”

Morgan smiled to himself and hurried down the stairs. He didn’t know why he worried so much about leaving Daphne. She was in better hands with Harriet than she would be almost anywhere else.

Harriet winced as the floor creaked under her feet. The hallway was dead quiet. She closed the door of Lucy’s bedroom and waited, straining her ears. Things were shaping up better than she could have expected. Lucy was sleeping soundly, not stirring one bit when her sister had snuck out of bed. Also, Bridget’s bedroom was on the first floor. If not for that, Harriet may have perhaps worried about getting caught.

At the end of the hall, moonlight filtered in through an open window. As she tiptoed closer to Morgan’s bedchamber, she could hear the frogs singing. She turned, raising a shaking fist. She hesitated. It was certainly a bad idea, and she worried he would be mad at her for it, but this was also the perfect opportunity to admit to him how she felt.

Scrunching her eyes shut, she knocked twice and prayed that no one else heard her. After a moment, she heard rustling behind the door and then the strike of a match. The door cracked open. “Is Daph—” Morgan paused, the candle he was holding illuminating his face. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Harriet! What are you doing?”

“I already told you.”

She looked back down the corridor. She was lucky they hadn’t woken anyone up, given how loud he had been. He wasn’t exactly being discreet. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and guided him back so that he would allow her inside the room. She quickly shut the door behind them.

“Are you mad?” His eyebrows were drawn together in anger. “This is the riskiest time for us to be alone.”

“I know, I know.” She put her hands out. He exhaled, setting the candle on the nightstand by the door. The bed was still made, but she could see an imprint of where he had been lying down. “You haven’t slept?”

Morgan shook his head. “I have been thinking about…” She waited for him to finish, but he didn’t say anything further. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “Do you know how much trouble we could be in if someone knew you were in here?”

She nodded slowly, swallowing hard. When he had first answered the door, he had looked angry, but something had shifted. She couldn’t tell what exactly differentiated this look from frustration. Perhaps it was the way his eyes had darkened just a little. Perhaps it was a trick of the light or the way his breath had quickened, or the way his lips were parted as if he were waiting for something.

“I know, but it was not enough to stop me,” she whispered.

He breathed in sharply and reached out, wrapping his hands around her waist. Harriet gasped as his lips met hers, and he pressed her back against the door. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his brown hair. He kissed her with an intensity he hadn’t before, his breath heavy, his nose pressed against hers, pulling her closer to him until there was nothing separating them. She whimpered against his mouth, her hips burning as he pressed them against his.

Morgan tugged her back into the room, and she followed him, their eyes closed, their tongues duelling, their teeth tugging at each other’s lips. His hands traced down her sides and the tops of her thighs. He continued kissing her, pulling the hem of her dress up and bunching the fabric in his fists.

Before her wedding, Harriet’s dear frazzled and anxious mother had sat her down and explained the workings of the marriage bed. Harriet had felt so anxious about what might happen when the wedding breakfast was over and she and Jeremy finally made their way to his estate. In fact, Harriet had dreaded the moment. She couldn’t imagine Lord Northwick treating her like that. It had made her feel sick to her stomach.

But now, here she was, her hands trailing over Morgan’s taut chest and his strong arms, and all she wanted was for him to pick her up, take her to the bed and ease the ache deep inside her. She wanted him, even though it wasn’t right. They weren’t married, but Harriet would never marry. Did that mean that she could never be loved the way she wanted him to love her?

She reached down, her hands shaking. She grabbed at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up his torso. He groaned, kissing her once more before he leaned back to pull the white nightshirt up over his head. Her breath shook. She had wanted so badly to see him like this. She wanted him to hold her like this. She wanted him to take her in his arms and make her realise just how badly she could ache for him. He looked better like this than she’d ever imagined.

She cried out when he reached down, his hands grabbing her rear and lifting her into his arms. “Shh, shh, please,” he whispered into her ear as he set her on the dresser.

Behind her, the attached mirror rattled against the wall. He kissed her cheek then her jaw and sucked at the pale skin of her neck until her head tilted back and she flushed at the feeling. Each kiss and flick of his tongue felt like fire popping against her skin, burning her from the inside out. She was confused. She thought he would have brought her to his bed, but instead, he set her on the first surface he could find as if he couldn’t wait another minute.

He reached down, pulling her dress up the rest of the way until it rested around her hips. She felt the chilly air on her thighs, but he remedied that immediately by leaning closer to her. He stopped, catching his breath against her ear while she clung to his shoulders.

“Do you even know,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, “all the ways that I want you?”

She nodded, her fingernails clawing desperately at his shoulders. He ran his hand up her thigh until he reached the top. He pressed his fingertips against her soft skin and pushed her legs apart.

“No,” he breathed. “No, I do not think you do.”

His finger traced her heat, making her gasp. Ever since he had kissed her, she had lain awake nights thinking about him and the way he had made her feel. And after trying her hardest to fight the ache that had grown inside her each time, she eventually discovered a secret no one had told her about. At first, she thought that maybe she was the only one with this secret, but as his fingers traced circles around her bud, she wasn’t so sure.

She buried her head in his shoulder and moaned against his skin. Then, he slipped his fingers down and pressed one inside her. She gasped louder, her fingers digging into his arms.It hurt, but not enough for her to want him to stop. Then, he slipped one more finger inside her, and she was filled with the most intoxicating feeling. Every stroke made the pressure in her lower belly increase.

She lifted her mouth from his shoulder. “More,” she begged.

At this point, she could no longer tell how full she was, but each thrust of his fingers brought her closer and closer to her peak. She could no longer stop herself from moaning. He brought her lips to his and kissed her deeply, muffling her cries.

He withdrew his fingers from her core before she was ready for him to stop. How did he know exactly what it was that she needed? How could he make her feel so good without so much as a word exchanged between them? “Please,” she whispered. “More.”

He kissed her again. “I am not done with you.”

He leaned down, his mouth finding the inside of her knee and pressing a kiss there. At first, she was confused, but as he kissed the soft skin of her inner thighs, her breath quickened. He leaned forward, and she gasped as he ran his tongue across her heat.

“What are you—Oh my—Oh!”

Harriet had never known such a thing could be done, and she certainly wouldn’t have imagined it to feel so good. He licked and sucked at her nether lips, then made his way back up towards her bud. He swirled his tongue around it, and she cried out.

“Shh, shh,” he whispered, his mouth against her. “You have to stay quiet.”

Harriet slapped a hand over her mouth and clenched her eyes shut, grinding her hips against his mouth. His tongue trailed down, and he slipped it inside her core. The feeling brought her closer, but to what, she wasn’t sure. She tugged at his hair, pressing him against her, her hips shaking with each flick of his tongue around her bud. Just when she thought she couldn’t feel any more pleasure, he pressed his fingers back inside of her, and she reached a new high.

She kept one hand pressed over her mouth to muffle her moans, and the other gripped the edge of the dresser. Her hips bucked with each thrust of his fingers, and the mirror softly thunked against the wall. Luckily, no one was on the other side to hear it.

With each stroke of his fingers and his tongue, Harriet shook, sweating and moaning into her hand until her core exploded with pleasure and she was forced to bite her fingers to stop herself from crying out.

He drew back and slipped his fingers from her heat. Then, he rose and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. He placed his hands on the edge of the dresser and tried to catch his breath, his eyes on hers. At first, Harriet wasn’t sure what to say, but after a moment, they laughed quietly. He placed an affectionate kiss against her temple, then drew away, grabbing his shirt off the side of the bed and tugging it over his head.

Harriet leaned her head back against the mirror and caught her breath. For so long, she had expected that something like that might make her feel different afterwards. Different in a bad way, as though she had lost part of herself. But she didn’t feel like she’d lost anything. Instead, she felt blissful tingles coursing through her body.

“Can we speak for just a moment before I go?” she whispered, even though moments ago she had been much louder.

Morgan looked surprised. He helped her off the dresser before helping her into her dress. “Of course.”

Harriet paused, looking out of the corner of her eyes while she thought about how to start. All of a sudden, in light of what they’d just done, it felt almost foolish to tell him that she loved him. Did he realise it already?

In the beginning, she had kissed him because she had wanted to. She had kissed him because he was handsome, and she had wanted him. She thought she cared about him, and maybe part of her did, but she had mistaken desire for love. Love was a vulnerable word. Love was a word with teeth. Love could hurt, and love could ruin. In fact, Harriet had said as much to Lord Northwick, and yet, that hadn’t changed his opinion of her. Maybe Morgan had only done these things because he had gotten carried away in the same feelings that had led her to their very first kiss.

But she still had to try anyway. “I think I…” She paused. “I know I—” She winced at the sound of floorboards squeaking in the hallway.

Morgan’s eyes widened. “Someone’s awake.”

“Do you think they heard us?” If Harriet’s cheeks weren’t as red as they could already get, the thought of someone knowing what she had just done only made her feel worse.

Morgan wrapped his arms around her. She grabbed his shoulders and clung to him. In a perfect world, she would stay in here for the rest of the night and fall asleep in his arms.

“You wait here, and once I can clear the hallway, you should get back to your room.”

Harriet looked up at him, nodding. He placed a kiss on her lips, just enough to make her wish he wouldn’t pull away. Then, she went to hide behind the door while he opened it just a crack.

The footsteps were louder and closer now. “Uncle?” Morgan asked.

The footsteps stopped. “Oh, Morgan!” A pause. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about Daphne.”

Harriet swallowed hard, her fingers pressed against the cold wall as she breathed shallowly. She wondered what Lord Murrey would even say if he realised she had been in Morgan’s room. She herself found it hard to believe that Oliver was so perfectly behaved, or else, why was he wandering around his host’s house so late at night?

Even so, it wasn’t worth the risk, nor did Harriet think she could ever look that man in the eye again if he knew how weak she was under Morgan’s gaze. That was a secret best hidden.

Lord Murrey laughed in the same way he did when he was caught in a lie or just a little embarrassed. “Me too.”

“Mhm.” Morgan nodded. “And I assume you went downstairs for some water?”

“Of course,” Lord Murrey responded. Harriet could picture the smile on his face. By God, that man was a bad liar.

“Go to bed,” Morgan said, laughter in his voice.

Harriet released her breath at the sound of a door closing in the hallway. Morgan leaned back and closed his door slightly. “It is best not to push our luck,” he whispered. “Perhaps what you wanted to say can wait until morning.”

Harriet’s heart dropped. He was absolutely right. This was a bad idea at its inception. Now wasn’t the right time to tell him. Surely, they’d have another chance soon for her to tell him how she felt. Besides, he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. At least, not for a while.

She smiled lightly. “Oh, I can hardly remember what I wanted to say.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

As quietly as could be managed, Harriet tiptoed back down the hall to her sister’s room and slipped inside. Her sister was still sleeping soundly, as unaffected and unmoved as a dead bird. She slipped under the sheets beside Lucy.

Harriet couldn’t believe what she’d done, and she wasn’t sure if she’d get any sleep after that. If Morgan could make her feel that good, then she couldn’t imagine how it might feel for him to finally make her his. She lay awake for a long time, replaying the evening over again in her head.

Hopefully, when they both saw the light of day, things would stay just as they were, if not get better.

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