by Stacy Reid
I could be his duchess. Of course, it was a role she did not think herself suited for, but Sophia was also confident in her abilities to learn and adapt. As his duchess, she would be expected to throw lavish balls, dinners and house parties, and even support several charities. Her stomach tightened, and her heart started to pound a little bit faster. She closed her eyes and imagined being with him each night, laughing and playing chess by the fire, riding across the lanes of their estate, waltzing at balls, having a child together.
And what if I should gain such a joy and then lose it. An iciness closed around her heart. The ache in her chest became a physical thing. Her heart fluttered madly, and her chest rose and fell with her uneven breaths. The pain and fear that crowded her senses felt like a physical assault. She snapped her eyes open and bit once more into her bottom lip.
As if he sensed her disquiet, William shifted, placed his hand around her back and shoulders and clasped her to his side in a closer embrace.
Death is a natural passage of life, she reminded herself silently, banishing the anxiety.
“You’ve gone quiet.” His voice held a note of contemplation.
“I’m thinking,” she murmured.
The carriage rumbled to a halt, and she sat up straighter against the squabs. “Oh, William, where are we?”
The sliver of moonlight glinted off the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and he flashed a sensual smile. “Now, Sophia. I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you going to hell once you’ve step foot in this establishment, but it is very important to maintain your disguise as a young man.”
She stared at him, blankly. Going to hell? Then she gasped, quite dramatically. “You are taking me to a gambling den!”
“Yes.”
She spluttered. “I was a foolish eighteen-year-old girl when I mentioned that to you. A piece had been printed in the newspaper about their lavish decadence and vices, and I just thought maybe…maybe I could glimpse inside one.” She clasped her cheeks and groaned. “I should not have told you!”
“We could always go back,” the devil offered.
She quickly rallied. “And let all your hard work go to waste? That would be such a shame.”
He grinned. “I hope you recall how little convincing I actually had to do.”
They climbed out of the carriage, and she glanced around the fog-shrouded night. It was late. Almost midnight. Her body felt incredibly alive, every sense feeling somehow sharper. They strolled toward the large door, and Sophia was fairly hopping with excitement. She ignored William as he rolled his eyes at her undisguised glee. The door swung open without his knocking, and then they stepped into sin and decadence.
The decor was lavish, sinful, and a place she should be refusing to go for fear of her immortal soul. Her father had pounded out many sermons on the ruinous nature of these type of clubs. Sophia looked around as if in a daze. She felt oddly off-balance and doubts that she should be in such a wicked place settled in her heart.
“You are safe with me, always.”
The words washed over her senses, and inexplicably all the anxiety that had started to stir inside vanished. The interior was one of such lavish luxury, red and green carpets covered the floor, and swaths of red and golden drapes twined themselves around massive white Corinthian columns. Dozens of tables were scattered in an organized sprawl on this lower floor, and many lords and revealingly dressed ladies sat around the tables cradling drinks in their hands, some with cigars in their mouths.
Several lords and ladies tipped their glasses to William upon his entrance, but only dealt her a dismissive glance. Of course, she was not a duke, so there was no need to fawn over her. She barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.
Smoke wafted through the air from the many lit cigars, glasses clinked loudly as it appeared every gentleman had a drink in hand, and the clattering of dice echoed as they rolled on the tables. She watched, impressed, as young men dressed in black and white elegant evening wear shuffled, flicked, and cut cards with artistic expertise. Elegantly clad women with filigree masks on their faces, and a fortune in jewelry at their throats and ears reposed on chaises longues chatting and drinking champagne.
“Welcome to The Club, a gambling den owned by Viscount Worsley.”
As if William had instructed her, she glanced up at a balcony at least three stories up to see a man leaning on the balustrade overlooking his domain like a dark king.
“I’ve read about him in the scandal sheets,” she said. “They say he is wicked and unprincipled, a wolf in lord’s clothing.”
“It said all that, did it?” William drawled with provoking amusement.
“I swear upon my honor, those were the exact words.”
“Do you wish an introduction?”
She lifted her face to his. There was such an air of wickedness and debauchery at this club and a pulse of forbidden desire arrowed through her heart. “No…I want to play cards, faro, Macao, whist, and vingt-et-un…and drink brandy.”
Her lover arched a brow, and a wicked glint entered his eyes. “There is a room here solely dedicated to prizefighting matches.”
Sophia laughed at the sheer audacity of it all. “Here? How truly wicked of him. Isn’t that illegal?” Then she gasped, “I had read in the news sheets some time ago of a lady of society being revealed here. That she…fought someone in the ring?”
“I’ve heard of this as well. I believe that the lady is Countess Maschelly.”
Sophia stared at him. “You jest!”
William laughed and tugged her through the scandalous crowd. The revelry and raucousness was startling and astonishing. A wicked, daring thrill pulsed through her as she stopped at many tables watching and learning. When her duke pressed a glass of brandy between her hands, she almost kissed him. She had leaned on her toes and then caught sight of his fierce scowl.
Giggling, she had moved away from him, shocked that she had forgotten she was disguised as a young gentleman.
About an hour later, he took her up some winding stairs to the first level to a door that led to a fight. A man stood by a large oak door. He bowed slightly, pushed open the massive door, and they stepped into another opulently fashioned room with soft dark green carpets cushioning their steps. The lights in this room were dimmer, the tables less raucous. Sophia felt a queer sense of vulnerability when they entered the fighting den. She gently fixed her spectacles which had slipped down her nose.
“Would you like to place a bet?”
“I would win money if this person wins?”
“Most assuredly.”
She thought on her inheritance her father had left her, and the desire to travel to France, Italy, and Versailles. And also, the knowledge that she could not live with her aunt forever, though she had been invited to. “Yes.”
William led her to a table and then went and placed their bet on the man he believed could win.
“How much did you place?” she asked, rubbing her hands in anticipation.
“One hundred pounds.”
She squawked at the exorbitant sum. “And if the man should lose?”
He sent her an amused glance. “Then I’ve lost one hundred pounds.”
“I’ve lost it. I mean to pay you back whether I win or not. You’ve only advanced me the bet,” she said fretfully. “It is no wonder men lose fortunes in these places.”
Footmen darted adroitly between the tables delivering drinks, and she took another glass of brandy, already warm from the previous drink. A large roped area in the center of the prodigious room was the only place well lit. Soon two men approached the ropes, dipped under, and made way to the center of the ring.
“Oh dear,” she muttered, scandalized. Both men were stripped to the waist, their chests and torsos on alarming display. The men wrapped thin leather strips that had been soaked in water or perhaps vinegar around their hands.
Their names were announced, the fight started, and Sophia sat straight in her chair, riveted by the brutal dance and p
arry. Jarring slaps and thuds as fists met flesh echoed in the room. “This is barbaric,” she breathed, truly shocked at the brutal display.
It did not last long before one of the men dropped onto the floor with a resounding thud. Several people cheered and clapped.
“Congratulations, my dear, you’ve won one thousand pounds.”
Sophia twisted to face him. “Dear God, are you certain?”
“Quite.”
“Oh!” she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him quickly on the lips. She giggled at his softly muttered curse. “Relax, if anyone saw you, it will only be said you are a man of varied and exotic tastes.”
His mouth came down on hers, fleeting but hard and passionate. The subtle hint of brandy flavored her tongue, and she moaned in delight at his fierceness and unexpected sensual assault.
She felt breathless…and hungry.
“What do you want to do next? Lord Huntley keeps a masquerade ball tonight. I received an invitation.”
“As long as we can go somewhere to kiss endlessly.”
His eyes darkened. “We can do that here.”
“Oh, let’s,” she purred against his lips.
Without speaking with anyone, they stood, and he tugged her through the throng and exited the fighting den. They traversed the hallway and then came upon a silent and dark staircase.
“You have private apartments here?”
“Yes.”
“And we are going there now?”
“Yes.”
They clambered upstairs until they reached the landing. In the silence of the corridor, at a large oak door, he paused and fished keys from his pocket, and opened the door. She was ushered inside, and she halted in the center of the room. It was richly decorated in swaths of green and black. A chaise longue that appeared specially built was flush against a wall, near a fire. A small table with a decanter with amble liquid stood in the center of the room.
The door closed with a decisive snick, and she spun to face him. The air crackled with the intensity of his stare. He cupped her cheeks between his large hands, bent his head, and crushed her mouth beneath his own.
She touched him with a featherlight caress, fleeting and tentative, gliding her fingertip across his jaw.
“Be daring with me, William. I’ve so missed the feel of your body pressing deep into mine.”
“Ah my sweet, I’ve been very mindful of your sensibilities.”
A delicious shock ran through her. She lifted her eyes to his, and the heat in his gaze strangled her breathing. “I know…we are conducting a very odd affair if I dare to say so. I’ve been under your roof for over two weeks, and not once have you commanded me to your bed for ravishment.”
A dark sensuality settled on his face, and a shiver went through her.
“Lie down on that sofa there,” he ordered, lifting his glass toward the dark blue damask sofa by the roaring fire.
Shock scattered Sophia’s thoughts as she stared at her duke. “William?”
“If you please, take off your trousers and undergarments, so your pretty pink quim is bare to me.”
Chapter 10
“Leave the shirt on. You’ll place your feet on the edges of the sofa and open your legs wide.”
Heat swept through her in a violent wave. A startled laugh escaped before she choked back the sound. “William…I…” She blushed at the picture of what he wanted lodged in her mind. It was scandalous!
“Do you need liquid courage?” he drawled, holding up a glass of what appeared to be brandy.
“I do not need spirits to be daring,” she said, lifting her chin, but the fingers that loosened the waist of her trousers trembled. Her hands fell away and she took a few steady breaths. To be so bare and vulnerable before him. The shirt was just about long enough to cover her bare bottom, but once she opened her legs like he’d commanded, he would see everything.
He leaned against the edge of the large desk, his face washed with carnal intent. “Afraid?” he asked with provoking amusement.
She narrowed her eyes. “Never…. merely wondering if I should order you to strip as well.”
Appreciation lit in his brilliant eyes, and his soft laugh brushed against her skin like temptation itself. Lifting her chin, Sophia removed her boots and stockings, stripped from the trousers, and knee-length drawers. She shrugged from the jacket and dropped it to the floor and removed the waistcoat. Only the shirt remained, and its edges brushed over her bottom like a lover’s caress.
“Remove the spectacles…and the wig.”
She complied and even took it a step further, drawing several pins from her hair until her tresses tumbled in loose waves down to her back. Sophia sat on the sofa and gripped the edges as an inexplicable shyness almost overwhelmed her.
Her lover’s smile faded a little, growing softer, more intimate. The deep blue of his eyes glinted with wicked knowledge, and he prowled over to her. William lowered to his haunches and peered up at her. He encircled her left ankle and pushed up until her knee bent, so she sat with her leg drawn up, the sole of her foot flat on the edge of the cushion. Her breath hitched when he leaned across, his beautiful eyes holding her captive, and repeated the action with her other leg. Her entire body blushed when his gaze dropped to her revealed sex.
“So lush, pink…and already wet for me.”
A queer excitement rippled through her stomach. She expected him to touch her there, but he did not. He shifted, resting on his knees before her. He leaned in, and the touch of his tongue on the back of her knees was as light as butterfly wings. Tension tightened low in her belly, and her pulse raced. He went higher with his light kisses, and Sophia gasped at the wickedness of it.
“William?” she moaned, desire and uncertainty pulsing inside her.
He nipped along the insides of her thighs, then applied the tender ministrations of his lips. Then he was there, at her open sex, with his wicked tongue, which slid through the tender folds of her quim with erotic precision.
He slid his hand underneath her bottom, gripped, and pulled her even closer to the edge of the well-padded sofa. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, and a sob rose in her throat when he licked her again. He held her legs wide, bent and licked in one heated swipe before drawing her nub of pleasure into his mouth and sucking hard. She screamed and slapped a hand over her mouth.
He showed her no mercy. Sophia gripped his hair, her weight dropping back against the plushness of the sofa. Nothing should ever feel this good but also so agonizing. “William, please!” she wailed.
She sobbed his name, undulated her hips, whispers and hoarse cries ripping from her throat, and he never released her from under the lash of his tongue. The exquisite sensations built steadily, overwhelming her senses.
He came over her and roughly ran his lips to her neck, where he bit hard. A jerk of her shirt and buttons burst away. He nuzzled her collarbone and then lower capturing her nipple with his mouth.
Trailing his hands down, he cupped her neglected breasts, which felt so heavy and swollen with desire. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, pinching and pleasuring her. Desperate to have him in her, she pressed her hand between them and reached for the flap of his trousers. Soon his thick hardness rested in her palm, and she gripped him tightly.
He groaned in ecstasy.
He held her gaze as he entered her slowly. Her breath caught at the tight, stretching sensation as he pushed deep inside her until he could go no deeper.
“I love you, so damn much, Soph,” he said his voice dark with desire.
Words of love hovered on her lips, and the realization they were there struck fear in her heart, and she shivered in the cage of his arms.
“No,” he said, taking her mouth in a raw domineering kiss. One that seared her insides with molten heat. “Stay with me. I do not want these doubts in your eyes, my darling, only feel what is between us.”
He withdrew, so that only the tip of his manhood nudged her entrance, and then plunged deep. Her hoarse s
cream slid over them. For an instant, they both lay unmoving, then he dipped his head and pressed the softest of kisses at the corner of her lips. A deep ache of want and complex needs filled her soul.
“I love you,” he murmured again, awe in his voice as if he held a treasure in his arms. A very strange but sweet twisting ache stirred in her belly, and her heart quickened.
His voice caressed her like a physical touch, soft, smoky, soothing, sensual.
“Love me, William,” she pleaded, kissing the wildly pounding pulse at his throat. “Take away the doubts I feel rising in my heart.” She hated the doubt that still lingered and she wanted to remove the shadows in his eyes. He mattered to her so much.
He started to move with savage sensuality within her, and she cried out, glorying in the pleasure-pain that spread through her tender core with each snap of his hips. He snaked a hand below her stomach and pinched her clitoris between his fingers. For endless minutes, Sophia became lost entirely in the taste, the scent, and the feel of him. Wonderful shocks of sensations speared her senses, and she orgasmed in an exquisite burst, shaking and gasping. He rode her through her convulsions of pleasure, and soon he found his release deep within her body.
He eased from her and shifted so that she sat atop him. She wilted onto his chest, relaxing into the haven of his embrace, her body still shivering through the aftermath of such untamed loving.
* * *
It had been three days since William had returned with Sophia to Hawthorne Park. There was a heaviness inside his chest, for each night, he confessed his love after they had pleasured each other, and instead of love growing in her eyes, they were shadowed by doubts and fear.
They lay in the drawing room on a chaise longue by the fire, and she was only clothed in a billowing white shirt which hung to her knees.
“William,” she began hesitantly, and ice congealed in his stomach.
“Yes?”
“I…I cannot keep staying here. I must return to Hertfordshire. My aunt is traveling down in a few days, and I will need to be there to greet her.”
