by Tessa Bowen
“Come back here, you nasty little tart—don’t you walk away from me.”
“You don’t have any control over me anymore,” she threw over her shoulder. “I can do whatever I want. I am rich now, remember? Maybe I’ll stay in England and see where things go with Bryce. I plan on having a lot of sex from now on. You’ve made me like you now. I’m going to go all over the world having sex with positively everyone!”
“You are an outrageous bloody liar.”
“Am I…Your Grace? ”
“Quit bloody calling me that!”
“I’m not gonna call you Trevor anymore, that’s for sure.”
“I’m still Trevor.”
“Only your lovers call you Trevor—remember? And we aren’t lovers. In fact, I hate you!”
He snatched her arm as she made for the staircase. She hissed and grunted as he dragged her up the steps. When she tripped on the second to the last step, he picked her up under one arm and carried her the rest of the way to the bedroom. He marched directly into the bathroom and turned the sink on full blast. Rolling up his sleeves, he shoved a washcloth under the faucet.
Izzy screeched when he pinned her against the wall and began wiping the makeup off her face. “What the frig’ are you doing!”
“Cleaning this horrid paint off your face. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
“Ouch! God! What is your problem with my makeup?”
“It makes you look like…like…”
“A what? A tart—a trollop, a whore? Maybe that’s what I am now! But I won’t be your whore Your Grace!”
Water soaked the front of her shirt as he scrubbed her eyes and cheeks and mouth. “You had to have one last bloody row before you left, didn’t you?”
She kicked him hard in the ankle and broke away. The Duke went after her as she hurried into the bedroom. She ripped off her drenched shirt and yanked off her boots, throwing them at him one by one. The heavy heel of one caught him in the shin and he snarled under his breath. She faced him in her black lace bra and schoolgirl skirt. She hadn’t bothered to take her socks off—they were of the white, knee-high variety.
His eyes seemed to spew lava as he took in the sight of her. “You wore that getup just to torment me, didn’t you?”
“Maybe Bryce likes knee socks too…Your Grace.”
“I’ll make you forget that boy if it’s the last thing I do, and if you call me that one more time so help me—.”
When he lunged for her she skittered across the bed. She shrieked and hissed as he crouched over her. Her half naked body stretched and strained as she fought to get away from him. Her miniskirt was shimmied high, exposing her white lace panties. Her dark nipples pressed against the sheer mesh of her bra. The need to possess her was overwhelming. Like a savage beast he attacked, yanking the straps of her bra down with a ravenous growl. He ravaged her erect nipples, licking, biting and tugging—pressing her into the mattress with the weight of his aroused male body.
Izzy writhed beneath him. As soon as he put his mouth on her, she too was enslaved by lust. She should be hitting him and pulling at his hair. Instead, she arched her back and moaned. She loved the feel of his hard muscles crushing her and his hot mouth devouring her flesh.
Abruptly, he pulled back and sat back between her splayed limbs. His gaze ran over her legs covered to the knee in those crazy-making socks. She cried out in surprise when he reached between them and shredded her panties. She was all spread out for him, the ripe bloom of her womanhood fully exposed.
When he went for her goods, she quickly covered his hands with hers. “You said you didn’t want to make another mistake with me, remember?”
“I don’t care what I said. You’ve pushed me beyond reason. That’s what you wanted to do, isn’t it?”
She panted and shook her head no.
He pushed her hands away and she pushed back, shading herself from his penetrating stare. His gaze alone caused her to grow moist between her legs. Now he was perilously close to the part of her that yearned for him most.
She trembled again and his expression of anger melted away to one of longing. “Let me look at you, Isabel—let me touch you.”
She hid her face in the pillow. “No, you weirdo pervert. I don’t want you anymore. Get off me.”
He found his way through her laced fingers, delving into the damp folds of her womanhood. “How can you say that you don’t want me? The proof is right here.” He slipped a finger into the depth of her weeping body. “You’re dripping wet.”
She grimaced, trying to hold the overwhelming pleasure at bay. “How do you know it’s not for him?”
His upper lip pulled back in a dangerous snarl. With a cry of alarm Izzy pushed him off of her, and rolled to the side. Desperately, she made a run for it. She had hoped to lock the bathroom door behind her but he was hot on her heels, backing her up against the marble counter. There was nowhere to go. She was immobilized between his hard, unyielding body and the cold porcelain sink. He lifted her so she was sitting on top of the counter, then he grasped her knees and pried her legs open.
“You can’t do this. It’s not fair.”
“You don’t play fair, why should I?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she protested weakly. “I have to forget you. Please…don’t.”
Trevor ignored her wavering entreaty and sunk to the floor, burying his face in her honey-soaked divide. Her body slid across the mirror as he gorged on her exotic sweetness. With her flavor soaking his tongue, he was lost in a lustful inferno. The urge to dominate her coursed through him in an intoxicating rush. He rose and pulled her down to the ground, turning her to face the mirror. Hurriedly undoing his trousers, he bent her over the cool marble slab and hiked her skirt high. He gripped her narrow hips in his palm, positioning her just so.
The Duke’s reflection loomed behind her. He looked like a sapphire-eyed demon who was about to take possession of her body. She shuddered as his scalding fingertips burned a trail down her belly. He found the distended bud of her arousal while his male hardness probed her from behind. He slid himself back and forth over the slick, syrupy alcove between her legs.
He breathed fire against her ear. “You want this, don’t you? You want me inside you, not that bloody boy.”
She hung her head in defeat and braced herself for his corporal intrusion. “Yes…”
“Say it then.”
“He never touched me,” she whimpered.
A heady mixture of relief and victory washed over him. He repeated the command—his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Say it, Isabel.”
“I want you inside me…Trevor.”
He entered her with searing precision. She gasped as the power of his unyielding male flesh threatened to split her in two. Izzy braced her hands against the mirror as he moved deep inside of her, conquering her with his body. He controlled her by driving her backward, impaling her again and again until perspiration dripped from both their bodies. Each stroke sent a lightning rod of white-hot pleasure straight through her. The explicit words he whispered in her ear inspired dark, decadent urges. He licked the sweat off her back as gusts of ecstasy overtook them both.
When the torrid storm had subsided, they both collapsed. He knelt on the tile while she slumped against the granite. He kissed his way down her trembling thighs and smoothed her skirt down to cover them. He caressed her knees, and ran his hands over the top of her socks where soft cotton met skin.
“I can’t let you go. I can’t let you leave me.”
“I have to. You’ll just keep hurting me.”
He looked up at her sharply, his brow creasing with worry as he searched her face. “Did I hurt you just now, sweet girl?”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Trevor clamored to his feet, gripping the sides of her little face. “Answer me, my darling. Please tell me I didn’t.”
A sob ripped from her throat as she pried his hands off her. “Don’t call me that! It doesn’t mean anything anym
ore!”
He looked mortified as he straightened his clothing. “I deeply regret it if I caused you any discomfort. Seeing you with that boy made me go out of me head. I got…carried away again. Please forgive me.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said bitterly. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t worry your status as a friggin’ gentleman is still safe, and you’re still good for that (if nothing else). It’s the other women I’m talking about. That’s what hurts me. I know you’ll always go back to them. We both know I’m no match for you. You’ll get bored of me.”
“Will I? I’m certainly not bored now. You have me bloody teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown.” He had hoped she would laugh at his quip, but she only stared at him with flat eyes. “I should be the one to leave, Isabel—not you. I’ll go to Paris for a while…I’ll take Charlotte. You stay here and do what you want. Take long baths, drink champagne all day. Eat scones until you pop. Will you stay? Please stay.”
“Why should I stay? So I can become nothing to you, like all the rest? I won’t cling to you like the Baroness while you go off with the next one.”
“We cannot leave it like this, Isabel.”
Trevor stepped out of her way as she shakily grabbed for a robe. He noticed that she walked slowly and with careful steps as though he had indeed hurt her. Anxiously, he straightened his collar. He had been rough like a rugby-playing thug and now he regretted it. Those damnable knee socks had made him forget how small she was—he’d charged her like a bull. He didn’t expect she’d be thinking about that blasted boy anytime soon, however.
She crawled into the bed, pulling the covers over her. “I want to be alone …” she said in a faraway voice.
She was forlorn and desolate. She hated him—this girl from America who had turned his life upside down. He deserved her hatred. It had been selfish of him to unleash his vengeful lust. In doing so, he had exploited her desire for him and used it against her. His status as a “gentleman” was most certainly in question, regardless of what she had said. And she was right—he was only good for one thing—bending fair damsels over countertops, but she would stay, he knew she would. The connection between them was too strong to break. Yes, he would go to Paris—put some distance between them, give her time to forgive him. He’d pay the servants overtime to spoil her around the clock. Then he’d return and make it right somehow.
He wouldn’t rest until she smiled at him again.
THE DUKE SPRANG OUT OF THE CHAIR, clutching the edge of the oversized oak desk. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She must have left in the middle of the night, Your Grace. Reese said she called for a cab. She left no note, just a message that she was going back to New York.”
“I was supposed to be the one to leave! Where exactly did she say she was going? Out with it man!”
Sir Archibald wrung his hands. “She left no forwarding information, Your Grace—no address or phone number.”
The Duke brought his fist to his mouth, chewing a knuckle in frustration as he paced behind the desk like a caged animal. “This is all my fault, Archie. I slipped up in Venice. I bedded the little twit and made a mess of things.
“I gathered that, Your Grace.”
“It’s that obvious, is it?”
“It is, Your Grace.”
He dropped his eyes to his polished loafers, attempting to hide his shame. “I suppose it’s what I always do, isn’t it? This time is different though…she is different.”
“A wretched scandal will be brought down on your head if it is found out that Miss De Luca is gone, Your Grace.”
“My entire adult life has been a series of disgraces—I’ll deal with the consequences. No, it’s not the scandal I care about…”
It’s her.
Trevor collapsed on the edge of the desk. Head in hands, he recalled his brutish behavior the previous evening. “I acted like a beast and now she’s fled in the night. I should have released her the first day I met her. That first day she came here and railed at me—do you remember? Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Do you mean the mess of falling in love, Your Grace?”
“She’s just a girl,” the Duke grumbled. “A young girl like that falls in love every five minutes. She does not have the worldliness or experience to know better.”
“I was rather referring to you falling in love with her, Your Grace?”
“Whatever are you talking about? You know I don’t do that sort of thing.”
“I don’t think one has a choice in such a matter, Your Grace.”
“You’re certainly taking a lot of liberties today, old boy.”
“I apologize for my forthrightness, Your Grace.”
The Duke gave his secretary a dry laugh. “Bloody hell, Archie—is that what this is? Have I fallen in love with a silly, disruptive waif of a girl?” He wanted to choke Archie when he gazed at him with kindness. He stalked over to the window and peered out at the pavilion shining white in the early morning sun. Where had his pretty cocoa-skinned fairy fluttered off too? “I realize it was most careless of me to go down that road with her, but I could not seem to resist. She cast a sort of spell on me…”
“I think she is what they call a ‘force of nature’, Your Grace.”
“You’ve got that bloody right. That girl is like a whirlwind or a tornado. Or a…a…”
Sensuous squall.
The Duke’s lips curved in a soft, secretive smile. Quickly he remembered himself and straightened, tinkering with a cuff link. “The little wreck got to me, Archie. There, I’ve said it. They can print that in the bloody papers. I can read the headlines now: “DEVIL DUKE BROUGHT LOW BY SIMPERING SHOP GIRL”.
“Is it out of the question that this arrangement could turn into something real for the both of you?”
The Duke shot the secretary a pointed look, his eyes narrowing as he searched his old friends face. “Did you plan this all along, you old sap?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace.”
“You did, didn’t you? You knew she was just what I needed. You knew I was bored to death with the endless parade of long-necked, champagne-swilling swans. You knew if you exposed me to someone from a completely different world—someone with actual blood in her veins it might set me straight once and for all.”
“She does have good bones, Your Grace.”
“Why you cunning old fox…” Trevor trailed off in disbelief. “You know me better than I know myself, don’t you?”
“I have known you for a very long time, Your Grace.”
“You knew me when I was still soiling my monogrammed nappies, but that’s beside the point because you overlooked one very important fact, Archie. I’m a cad through and through and now the girl has launched herself back to whatever alternate universe she came from—over the bloody rainbow, most likely. Well, I won’t bloody let it end this way. I have to find her. Charlotte will never forgive me. I would never forgive myself. In the meantime, she has my money, she will be fine. I shouldn’t worry about her...”
He was already worried about her—terribly worried. He could feel the worry wrinkles forming with each passing second.
“She didn’t take the check, Your Grace.”
The Duke was at the older man’s side in an instant, looming over him. “What do you mean, she didn’t take the bloody check!” he bellowed.
“She left with only the clothes she came in, Your Grace.”
“What about the ring”
“She left that as well.”
“That is ludicrous! How will she survive?”
“She is an old hand at survival, Your Grace.”
“I suppose she thinks my money isn’t good enough for her. You’ll find her at once, so that I can straighten this mess out.”
“Your Grace…how will we ever find her?”
A dangerous spark flickered in the Duke’s eyes, turning them an intense cobalt blue. Archibald took a shaky step backward, wishing he had two canes to
lean on.
“How?” The Duke spat in an affronted tone. “Charter a bloody ride on the Great and Powerful Oz’s hot air balloon, for all I care. Organize a fleet of daffodil shaped space ships and fly to the moon!”
“Your Grace…?”
“I am the bloody Duke of Devoy, am I not? I have all the money in the world to throw at people who do this sort of thing. I will call on Scotland bloody Yard if I have to.”
“Yes, Your Grace—of course, Your Grace.”
“I never should have let her out of my sight. I made her a promise that I would always take care of her, and she threw that promise back in my face. I must know that she is all right. Blast my thundering heart—what the bloody hell is the matter with me?” He turned his rage on the quaking secretary. “This whole thing was your idea, old man—bringing her here—you’ve admitted it now. Look at the trouble you’ve caused.”
“Me, Your Grace?”
“Don’t be cute. If you want me to live happily bloody ever after you will do whatever is necessary to find her, do you understand? Make whatever calls you need to make. I don’t care what it costs. And go about it quickly—I don’t want—I can’t have any harm befalling her.”
The reality that he might never see her again was more than the Duke could stomach. He strode to the side table and poured himself a double scotch. “Don’t look at me like that, Archie. I know damned well it is too early in the day for a drink. It’s not even bloody lunchtime yet.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Find her,” the Duke hissed.
The poor, old gentlemen took a step back. His red-eyed lord seemed to be morphing into a dragon right there in the study.
“Do you hear me, Archie? Find that bloody girl.”
Chapter Twenty
Brooklyn, New York
Lee’s Flower Shop
4 Months Later
Izzy had gotten really good at removing thorns from long stemmed roses. Her little fingers were perfect for the meticulous task and she had a real eye for floral arranging. She was grateful that Mr. Lee approved of her flamboyant choices. It helped matters that he was blind in one eye.
