When to Dare an Dishonorable Duke: Regency Romance (Romancing the Rake Book 7)

by Tammy Andresen

  Her own breath caught and not sure what to do with herself, she picked up her fork and took another bite of her succulent duck. His change in demeanor was both exciting and intimidating all in the same moment and she didn’t know quite how to respond.

  Silence fell again but this one far more tense than the last. Several more courses were delivered. A fish course, a vegetable course and then a custard. She barely ate and certainly didn’t taste what she did.

  After they set down their silverware and their plates were removed by the unobtrusive servants, Damian pushed back his chair. He moved around the table and offered his arm. “I think we need to have a more private conversation.”

  “Private?” she asked, her lips trembling. “We were the only two people at dinner.”

  He eyed the butler, frowning. “We were not.”

  She hesitated, her hand hovering near his arm. “I’m not certain this is a good idea.”

  He made a sound deep in his throat. Was he irritated? She dropped her hand. A woman on her own had to be careful. And now that he’d started making a list, that was a check in the column of reasons this was a bad idea. The energy pulsing between them had a dangerous edge.

  She knew the emotion she felt wasn’t akin to fear, but she also sensed he was a threat to her for different reasons. Her reaction to him, for example, would color her ability to make a sound decision.

  He shifted, bending lower. “I have something I’d like to show you.”

  “What?” she asked, still hesitating.

  He dipped closer to her ear. “Another reason to accept my offer.”

  His suggestive tone washed away her last bit of hesitation. Frightened as she was, she was more curious. She slipped her hand into his arm as he gently pulled her chair back. But the moment her fingers touched his skin, tingling started dancing down her arm along her spine and straight to the junction of her legs.

  She’d never experienced pleasure with a man before, but this made her wonder if it was possible.

  If she were a different woman, she might have asked the duke currently escorting her out of the dining room. She was certain he knew the answer. Her mother’s education on the topic had involved a discussion about how she must bear a man’s touch and to try not to cry or push him away.

  She shook her head. The advice had not served her particularly well.

  In fact, she’d been woefully unprepared for the marriage bed.

  She nearly tripped on her own feet and he caught her, steadying her with one muscular arm. Could this man teach her how to make a future husband happy? Perhaps being his mistress could actually prepare her for a successful marriage after all.

  She’d hated how angry John had become over the course of their marriage. The way he’d thought of her as a failure in their marriage. Their marriage bed.

  She’d been a failure as a wife.

  She shook her head as Damian led her back through the music room and out to the terrace. They moved past the ring of light and into the shadows at the back of the garden. “You really did mean private.”

  “I don’t want to be interrupted.”

  Her hand shook a bit as it rested in the crook of his arm. Was she scared or excited? She wasn’t entirely certain. “What are we going to do that requires this level of privacy?”

  He stopped then, next to a waist-high stone wall that surrounded a stone terrace. “I’m going to kiss you again. But this time, I’m going to be thorough. I’m going to make you understand the level of passion that could develop between us.” And then his mouth swooped down and captured hers.

  Never, in all her life, had one set of lips said so much without uttering a single word.

  His mouth was firm, warm, commanding as his lips moved over hers. She met him touch for touch, losing herself in the pleasure he evoked. And when he pressed open her mouth to swipe his tongue across hers, the ache that had begun inside her throbbed with a greater need. A desperation for so much more than she’d imagined possible.

  He pulled her close to his body and she fit against it, the feel of his lean muscles somehow satisfying and intensifying the passion growing within her. Cassandra wrapped her arms about his neck, wanting to draw him closer.

  Over and over he kissed her, ravaging her mouth in a way that only made her want more than his mouth on hers, but on every inch of her skin, which fired longing to her core. And when he finally lifted his head, her mouth followed his, not sure she wanted the kiss to end.

  Her mind was fuzzy with need and as her eyes fluttered open, she swiped her tongue across her swollen mouth. “That did answer several questions, I believe.”

  “Which ones?” he asked, keeping her body pressed to his. “Did you decide to accept my terms?”

  Bloody hell, Damian thought as he looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms. The moonlight danced off her dark hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark and sultry with desire, her body fit to his.

  She had to accept his offer. He needed this woman in his bed. Desperately.

  She licked her lips as she glanced up at the sky. “No. Not that,” she answered. “But I had wondered if it was possible to…” then her head dipped down as her words tapered off.

  What was she going to say? “Tell me.”

  “I’ve never.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’ve never felt such…” She paused again. “Need. I wasn’t sure I even could.”

  She’d never finished? A woman with her passion just below the surface had never experienced pleasure at a man’s touch? A new desire roared through him. He wanted to be the man who showed her. “You can.”

  “Really? Do you know that for certain?” Her nails bit into the back of his neck. “I’ve been worried that I—”

  He didn’t let her finish. The best way to explain was to show her and so he dipped his head, capturing her lips again even as he wrapped his arms below her behind, and picked her up. Her legs naturally wrapped about his waist and he wished there weren’t so many clothes between them.

  But they were out in the garden and it was early yet. He’d see her without them soon enough. Right now, he wished to show her what he already knew. She was capable of passion, lots of it. And he was the man to show her.

  With that in mind, he ran his hands up and down her back even as he set her on the wall behind them. His cock was cradled between her legs and he pushed their hips closer together, pressing as much as he could. Despite all her skirts, she felt the pressure and moaned into his mouth. Good.

  Damian slid his hands to the front, massaging up her belly and over her breasts. They filled his hands nicely, despite her trim frame and he gave the flesh a squeeze even as he ached with want. She arched her back to silently beg for more of his touch.

  He let out a low guttural noise deep in his throat, moving his hand down her body all the way to her ankle before he flicked up her skirts, sliding his fingertips over her stockings and pantaloons.

  As he reached her thigh, her pulse, already racing, quickened until it was pounding against his, her hands threading into his hair.

  Damian parted the slit of her pantaloons and slid the tip of one finger along her seam. She cried out, thrusting her hips toward his hand and he grinned against her mouth. She was on fire, burning for him and he loved every second. He could only hope that she melted him down and reformed him again.

  It had been so long since a woman had wanted him this way and he’d savor every second, the feel of her silky flesh, the need pulsing in him.

  “What’s your given name?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Cassandra,” she answered, her voice breathy and perfect.

  “Cassandra,” he repeated, loving the feel of the name on his tongue. Desire throbbed through his body as he squeezed her behind, pressing her closer. He was going to love something else on his tongue even more. He slid his finger along her seam again, spreading her a bit wider, her slick heat enveloping his finger. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, turning h
er face back to his.

  He did kiss her then, light and tender before he pulled away and dropped to his knees. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

  “Damian?” she asked, fear lacing her voice, even as he pushed her skirts higher.

  “Don’t be afraid, love. You’re going to like it, I promise.”

  She didn’t answer as he slid under the fabric, finding her center and reached out his tongue to follow the trail his finger had just blazed. He heard the muffled sound of her gasp, felt her shudder as he repeated the movement.

  Cassandra tugged at his hair, even as he circled her nub of pleasure with the tip of his tongue. Her moan told him he’d hit the right spot and he circled again, sliding a finger inside her hot channel. She was molten and he was melting for her.

  Her thighs shook as he increased the pressure, giving her no repose. She tightened around him, her body’s tension building higher and higher, her moans taking on a keening pitch.

  She was close. Damn if he didn’t love that sound. Her reaction couldn’t be faked, there was no artifice here. Just passion. And he’d have all of her before he was done.

  Finally, she broke against him, crying out his name. He kissed the inside of her thigh before he pulled out from under her skirts. He was rock hard still but somehow completely satisfied. “Are you done worrying about whether you’re a woman of passion?”

  “What?” she asked, looking down at him where he still knelt on the hard stone.

  “You were concerned that it wasn’t possible for you to finish? Have I answered your question?”

  “Oh yes,” she answered, combing her fingers through his hair. “Though you’ve created several more questions.”

  “Such as?” he asked, cocking his head to the side to study her.

  She shook her head. “Was it better or worse when I didn’t understand?”

  “Why would it be worse?” he asked, slowly rising until he could capture her mouth with his own. She was soft and so pliant under him that her next words caught him completely off guard.

  “I wasn’t supposed to want you. Not like this.”

  Chapter Five

  Cassandra was likely going to hell. She wasn’t certain she cared.

  In the early days of her marriage, she did. She’d resisted any passion that rose between her and John. Not that it had been difficult. Their interludes were few and far between and when they did happen, they were over before they’d hardly begun.

  But even when he did manage to stir a flutter of want, she’d pushed her feelings back down. Their relationship was about his care, his needs, not hers. And besides, hadn’t she learned that desire was sin?

  So she’d carefully tucked away any feelings of passion. She’d not allowed John’s touch to affect her.

  They had been nothing like this all-consuming pleasure she’d just experienced.

  She’d known being the duke’s mistress would be a sin. But to allow him such liberties and to like them…

  She supposed she’d known he’d teach her about carnal pleasure. She just hadn’t expected it to be so…overwhelming. And so incredible.

  “Passion is a natural and healthy occurrence between consenting adults.”

  She believed him. Mostly. “I suppose I can see the function it performs with a married couple. A lack of lust can tear two people apart.”

  He looked down at her, his face hidden in shadow. “Is that how it was in your marriage?”

  She nodded. “I’m afraid so.” She reached up and scrubbed her face with her hands. “But try to understand, I wasn’t supposed to want him. We weren’t supposed to…”

  He reached for her cheeks, pushing her hands aside and cupping her face in his. “You’re a vicar’s daughter. I should have known.”

  She bit her lip, trying to read his face. She’d sat through endless sermons on sins of the flesh. Both in the pews of the church and more personal lectures delivered by her father as she’d grown older. “Don’t misunderstand. I don’t believe my father either. His assertion that passion is a sin and that I should only endure my husband’s touch.” She shuddered. “I tried it his way. And…” She looked away. “But to enter a relationship with you outside of wedlock is different. What we just did…it must be wrong.”

  “Why is that?” he asked, leaning closer.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “It, it felt so good.”

  He chuckled, low and deep. “It did.”

  She shook her head. “Can I confess to you that I’ve been afraid to marry again?”

  “Why?” he whispered, his hands massaging down her neck.

  “For all the reasons we’ve already discussed. I don’t want to disappoint…”

  He grimaced, shaking his head. “You married a sick man who wished for passion from you but couldn’t give it in return. That sounds doomed to fail.”

  His words soothed a bit of her hurt. And she appreciated them greatly, just as she would remember this time in the garden forever. What had happened between them had been magical. “And a short relationship with a duke will be a success?”

  He paused, leaning back on his heels. “You’ve got me there.”

  She pushed her skirts back down her legs. She should not have allowed him such liberties but she’d wanted to know…was she even capable of such passion? He’d proven so, a lesson that somehow lightened the burden in her heart. “We can’t give in to our cravings again.”

  “Why not?” He stood, towering over her as he leaned his hands on the wall.

  She shook her head. “I already told you. It isn’t right.”

  “I disagree. It was very right.”

  She let out a long breath, tilting her chin to look up into his eyes. “I’m glad you’ve helped me discover that I can…that I’m able to…”

  “I’m glad too,” he whispered low as he leaned closer, placing a light kiss on her neck.

  She placed a hand on his chest, trying to create some distance. But her fingers only twisted into the folds of his shirt. “But try to understand. Our interlude only proves to me that perhaps I could marry. If I can experience such passion, mayhap I won’t be such a disappointment.” What if she found a patient husband, someone willing to show her how to be a good wife in the most private of moments? Damian could teach her that but his arrangement was temporary. Was she only to warm Damian’s bed until he tired of her and moved on to the next mistress?

  And what would that do to her own heart?

  He leaned back again. “That is why you were considering my offer. You thought you wouldn’t make a man happy in the bedroom?”

  She shrugged, looking away. “That was part of it, yes.”

  He let out a long sigh. “I hate it when I’m so mistaken.”

  “How is that?” she looked back at him then.

  “I meant to show you how good it could be between us.” Then he leaned over once again and captured her lips with his own.

  She couldn’t deny that it had been good. Far better than that. It had been absolutely wonderful. Even thinking about it made her ache with need all over again.

  But she also knew that she couldn’t go through with it. Somehow, knowing their passion burned so hot only made her realize that she was bound to be burned.

  She pulled away and slipped underneath one of his arms, skittering a few steps away. “Damian. I am sorry but I still need to think about your offer. It’s risky and…we likely shouldn’t…” The words failed her. Part of her still wanted him and wished to ignore the possible consequences of his arrangement.

  But another part cried out that she needed to think, not just feel. Not knowing what else to do, she turned and fled.

  “We should,” he murmured into the night, slowly following behind her. He’d let her run for now. But she wasn’t getting away. Not from him. He twisted his neck, a crack filling the air. He watched her slip through the doors into the music room and he quickened his pace.

  She didn’t stop but continued out into the hall as he made his way into the room. Hea
ding into the hall, he saw her start up the stairs. He waited until she stopped on the third floor and disappeared, then he started up the steps two at a time.

  He’d be lying if he said the thrill of the chase didn’t make his heart beat a touch faster. Between that and the need already pulsing inside him, he was a throbbing ball of excited energy.

  He reached the top of the stairs just in time to see her disappear into a doorway. The fifth on the left. Grinning, he started down the hallway, stopping in front of her door. He reached for the knob, still tasting her on his lips. She’d been intoxicatingly delicious and he’d only begun to taste her.

  But the sound from the other side of the door stopped him. From inside the room, he heard the muffled sound of her cries. As though she’d tossed herself on the bed and sobbed into the blankets.

  His passion, the need for the hunt, left him as a new emotion swelled in his chest. Sympathy.

  Letting go of the knob, he raised his knuckles and rapped with three quick knocks on the door. “Cassandra,” he called. “Open the door.”

  Her sobs ended, the room going quiet. She didn’t answer.

  “I won’t touch you. I want to…talk.” Such odd words from him but true. He’d pushed her too hard and he knew it. He’d allowed the need building inside him to dictate his actions. She likely hadn’t been ready for such an interlude.

  He could be overwhelming for many. He knew that. He tended to go after what he wanted with a single-minded purpose.

  But he’d erred this time. Because while he’d proven what he’d set out to, showing her the amazing sexual connection between them, he’d failed to truly understand her hesitations before he’d acted.

  He heard the rustling of her skirts. “I don’t think being alone with you in my room is a good idea.” Her voice moved closer with each word and he knew she approached the door.

  He let out a slow breath raking his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He heard the light tap of her slippers on the hardwood floor as she crossed the room. Then the doorknob squeaked as she twisted it open.