“No,” she said, hating that her voice shook. “If you were a monster, you would not have been so…careful with me. You could have simply taken me and not given a thought to my pleasure. You didn’t.”
He was silent for what felt like an eternity, and then he leaned forward. “Wanting you to come is for my pleasure as much as yours. Don’t mistake yourself, Marianne—I do what I do for my own reasons.”
She frowned. He was pushing her away, that much was obvious. Although she should have allowed it, she saw something in his eyes in that moment. Pain. And it made her want to draw closer to him, despite his words.
“Losing your sister must have been very hard for you,” she said slowly.
He stiffened immediately and his gaze narrowed as he pushed his plate aside and got to his feet in one smooth motion.
“I do not speak of Anne,” he snapped. “Not to anyone.”
He walked away from her to the fire and leaned over the flames. The dancing light caressed his bare chest and she caught her breath. Wanting him came so naturally to her. Even in this moment where he was obviously putting a wall between them.
“I understand needing to shut yourself off from it,” she pressed, getting to her own feet and adjusting the blanket that covered her. “I lost my mother when I was fourteen. And then my father just weeks ago.”
He faced her, his arms folded across his chest. “It seems your father did not provide much for you other than scandal. Do you not feel like it is good riddance?”
She worried her lip as sadness rose up in her. “I admit I’m angry with him. I hate that his actions created the situation Juliet and I find ourselves in. But I loved my father, flaws and all. Just as I’m certain your sister loved you.”
He took a long step toward her. “I told you, I do not speak of my sister to anyone. Is that clear?”
His voice grew louder on the last few words, and she jumped at the raw pain and anger in his voice and on his face. In that moment, he looked and sounded like the monster he kept trying to convince her that he was. And yet she still didn’t feel like backing away from him.
She nodded slowly. “I understand you, Your Grace.”
He stood perfectly still for a moment, holding her stare, struggling, it seemed, to find a way back to the illusion of control that he showed to the world. Then he nodded once. “Very good. I shall go check on your bath.”
With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving her alone. Leaving her with the realization that beneath his anger and his swagger and his coldness was something dark and deep. Something she wasn’t certain she should dare to explore.
No matter how much she was tempted to do so.
Chapter Seven
Marianne shifted in the carriage seat and let out a small sigh.
“You must be uncomfortable, miss.”
She jolted at her maid’s words. She kept forgetting Bonnie was even in the carriage with her, her mind was so tangled. But Alexander had insisted he ride outside the vehicle on horseback when they left the inn early that morning. So Bonnie had been taken from the other carriage and placed with her to keep her company.
And Marianne had been distracted and confused ever since.
“It’s just been a long few days,” she admitted. “I’m fine.”
That seemed to appease the maid, for she went back to her knitting and humming a popular tune. Marianne peeked out the curtains, watching Alexander ride alongside the vehicle on his horse. The man sat the animal well, his strong body hardly even bouncing he was in so much control.
Just as he always was. The night before, he had allowed her the bath, then curled against her in the bed, his big body cradling hers. In the morning, he’d woken her with soft kisses and the probing press of his cock on her backside. They’d made love slowly, passionately, and she had come three times before he found his release.
And yet, once more, the moment the passion faded, he put the wall between them. And here she was, riding inside with her maid, and him outside, like they were strangers rather than lovers.
Like she worked for him. And she supposed in a way, she did. She was his mistress, in reality, no matter how limited that arrangement was. Trading her body for what she needed, for the security of her future. That was not a place she’d ever thought to find herself in.
Nor to enjoy so much once she was in it. What a wanton she was turning out to be, thinking of this man and what his body did to hers. Even as he made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of being anything to her other than a lover, and a temporary one at that.
Outside the window, Alexander urged his horse on and suddenly the animal leapt forward and they disappeared from view. She pulled the curtain back fully, craning her neck to see where they could have gone, and that was when she saw it. A huge estate, rising up in the distance. Her mouth dropped open, for the home was five times bigger than her own father’s best estate. A castle fit for a king, not just a duke.
“Great Lord.” Bonnie whistled beside her as she, too, watched the giant house grow closer in the distance. “That’s something. To think, you’ll be duchess of all this.”
Marianne jerked her face toward her maid in surprise. “Duchess? No, I’m not marrying Avondale, Bonnie.”
Her maid seemed surprised for a moment, then she bent her head. “I’m sorry, Lady Marianne. I must have misunderstood.”
Heat flooded Marianne’s cheeks as she saw the faint look of disapproval on Bonnie’s face. But why wouldn’t she disapprove? Ladies were not meant to take men to their bed who they would not marry. Certainly they didn’t like it as much as she had.
Perhaps she wasn’t a lady at heart. Just as her father hadn’t truly been a gentleman in the end.
The carriage pulled to a stop, bringing her thoughts to an end with it. Within moments, the door was opened and a footman stood there to greet her. Marianne ignored the pull of disappointment that it wasn’t Alexander who helped her out. But he was already standing on a long staircase, talking to a man in impeccable livery.
As Bonnie moved off to make arrangements for her things, Marianne hesitated. Should she join the duke or the servants? Her place suddenly felt very unclear.
“Lady Marianne,” Alexander called out. “Come here, please.”
She climbed the steps and stood beside him as he introduced her to his butler. “Jones will take care of anything you need and ensure your maid is instructed on the workings of the household. He will also show you to your chamber. I’ll see you at supper.”
Marianne blinked. How efficient Alexander sounded now. How utterly disinterested in her he looked and acted as he waved her off to the butler and went inside the house.
If Jones had thoughts on her being here or her role in his master’s life, he made no indication on his face. He simply led her up to a chamber and she followed, making note of the stark element that the estate had. There were few pieces of art on the wall, no portraits at all, and as she passed by, she noted half the doors to the rooms were closed up tight.
The house was half-dead.
And she was staking her life on the man who had brought her here. Not for the first time, she wondered at the bargain she had made.
Alexander sat at his desk with a pile of correspondence at his side. Every time he left the countryside for London, there were a dozen things to do when he returned. He might have shut up a great many parts of his life, but he had never shirked on his duties as duke. Too many people depended on him and his lands and holdings to let them go fallow.
Normally, he would have been neck-deep in responses and troubles, but today he sat staring at the letters, completely unable to focus on matters at hand. His mind kept taking him elsewhere. Out of this room, up the stairs, to the chamber where a very unexpected lady now stayed.
Thoughts of Marianne intruded upon him constantly, just as they had during the ride to the estate. Just as they had since the moment he had captured her in his study in London.
The woman was a menace. And he could not recall ever wanting someone more than he wanted her. Which was utterly and completely terrifying, and certainly not the bargain he had made with her just a few days before.
He wanted to separate the drives of his body from the swirling cloud of his mind and the pounding ache of his heart, but it was proving to be impossible in this case.
There was a light knock on his door, and Alexander stiffened with displeasure. His household staff knew exactly what his orders were when it came to his private rooms. He was never to be disturbed, save for if the house was burning down around him.
“Your Grace?”
He gripped his quill tighter as the light, feminine voice pierced the barrier of the door. So it was not a servant who intruded. It was Marianne, herself.
He briefly considered ignoring her, but then let out his breath in a long sigh. “Come in,” he snapped, rising to greet her properly as she hesitantly entered his office.
In the hours since their arrival, she had changed her clothing and fixed her hair. Not that she needed to do either. She was lovely no matter what she wore or did. Her dark hair curled around her face, framing the perfection there and making her dark green eyes sparkle like the finest emeralds. She had a sprinkling of light freckles on her nose, as well. He had noticed them before, but now he couldn’t help but stare at that tiny imperfection, which only made her more…interesting.
“What is it?” he barked out, hearing the sharpness of his tone and watching her flinch under its snap.
She swallowed hard, and for a moment he thought she might simply turn on her heel and run away. Not that he would blame her. But instead, she drew a long, deep breath and slowly closed the door behind her.
“Have I displeased you already?” she asked, lifting her chin as she shoved her shaking hands behind her back.
Alexander tilted his head, mesmerized by the strength of her character as much as the beauty of her countenance. There were few ladies of her rank who would be so bold as Marianne proved herself to be every day. Few who would stand up to him, certainly.
“Your Grace?” she whispered.
He shook off his thoughts. “You have not displeased me,” he said.
She pressed her lips together, almost as if she were annoyed by his response. Slowly, she placed her hands on her hips and speared him with a withering look.
“If I have, I really must demand that you be honest with me, or this arrangement will not work. And I need it to work.”
“Demand,” he repeated, shocked that her impertinence inspired in him a desire to smile. He wasn’t certain he actually knew how to smile anymore.
She nodded. “Yes. I am well aware of my failings, Your Grace—”
“I thought we had agreed on Alexander,” he interrupted, coming around the desk and leaning on the edge.
She huffed out a breath. “Very well. I’m aware of my failings, Alexander. My limitations when it comes to the realm of physical pleasures. I don’t have experience, as you well knew when you began this. But I liked what we shared.” She turned her face and a dark blush colored her cheeks. “I liked it a great deal, actually. And I would like to learn. I want to…to please you.”
“Have you ever seen a lion, Marianne?” he asked.
She wrinkled her brow and her attention returned to him. “A lion?”
“In a circus like Astley’s or something of the like?”
She shook her head. “No. My father didn’t like that sort of thing, so we never went. Why—”
“The lions are quite ferocious looking,” he said, stepping toward her. “With their manes and their roar and their battle-scarred faces.”
He watched her gaze flit to his own scar and then refocus on his eyes. “And?” she asked.
“But in the wild, it is the lionesses who do the hunting. They’re bolder even if they do not look it.” He stepped closer, his cock throbbing with every inch that vanished between them. “It turns out that you may very well be a lioness, for you are very direct, aren’t you? Very brave.”
She swallowed as he reached her and dragged his fingertips down her cheek. “I do not feel brave,” she whispered. “I feel utterly terrified of how much I want those things we shared in the carriage and last night in the bed at the inn. I’m afraid of never getting to experience that feeling again. And I’m afraid of…of you.”
He froze, leaving his hand cupping her chin gently. “Afraid of me?” he repeated. “Because of my appearance?”
“You think that scar makes you frightening?” she scoffed. “Quite the opposite. I’m not afraid of your scars, Alexander. I’m afraid of the things you wake in me. Things I’ve been told my whole life were wrong.”
He stared down into her face, so earnest and so alive and so beautiful. Also so filled with desire, plain and pure and his. Suddenly he wanted to do such wicked things with her, to her. He wanted to ruin her entirely and make sure she would be branded by his touch forever.
He wanted to claim her utterly and completely and never let her go.
The last thought jolted him, and he dropped his hand from her cheek. He turned away, fighting for composure even as his heart pounded and his body thrummed with desire.
He looked at her again once he had reined in the foolish needs in his mind. “Pleasing me may shock you,” he whispered. “Are you truly prepared to fully dedicate yourself to passion?”
She didn’t waver or hesitate as she said, “Yes.”
He flicked his head toward the door. “Lock it.”
Her eyes went wide, but she did as she’d been told, tracking to the door and turning the key. Then she leaned back against the surface and stared at him. “And now?”
He lifted his hand to the fall front on his trousers and unhooked the buttons there. The flap fell forward, and he watched as she blinked at his hard cock beneath the fabric, then licked her lips swiftly. God, how he wanted her mouth on him. And he was going to have it. It would be a test of how far she’d go anyway. If she was going to resist, this would be the way to find out. It might be better for her anyway, to decide he was far too debauched for her.
“Come here,” he ground out, his voice strained with the need that seemed to pulse through his every nerve ending.
She crossed the room in a few jerky steps and stopped before him. He cupped her chin, dropping his mouth to hers for a deep, probing kiss. She opened to him, lifting her hands to his forearms and mewling out pleasure as he drove his tongue into her mouth. With difficulty, he pulled away.
“On your knees, Marianne,” he whispered, hoping she would obey, knowing she might not, and uncertain if he was trying to draw her closer or push her away.
Alexander’s order rang in Marianne’s ears and she jolted at the raw power of it. Slowly, she did as she’d been told, settling her skirts around her as she looked up at him. His face was drawn taut with desire and his cock was right there, hard and ready. Although she should wait for his next instruction, she didn’t. Instead, she reached out and caught his cock in one hand, stroking it gently.
He bucked against her with a gasp of surprise and pleasure that made tingles rush through her body. She stroked him, thinking of the pleasures they had already shared, of how he moved when he was inside of her. She mimicked his thrusts with her hands.
And when his breathing was ragged and broken, she thought of when he’d tasted her. Would he like the same? Would her mouth be pleasing to him? She wasn’t certain but now, her gaze locked on his, she wanted to know more than anything. She darted out her tongue to swirl it around the head of his cock.
He made a strangled cry and pushed, driving between her lips. She took him, allowing him into her mouth inch by inch, just as she had welcomed him earlier into her sex. He held her gaze as he began to slowly thrust, and the moment where she understood his desire was very clear. He wanted to take her mouth like it was her sex. And she wanted it, too. She relaxed her mouth and reached up to grip the base o
f his shaft, working her hand over him as he made shallow thrusts that didn’t quite reach her throat.
She rolled her tongue around him, testing his response. When he dipped his head back in pleasure, she repeated the action. To her great surprise, she wanted this. She wanted the power of it, yes, for there was a great deal of that in making this strong man moan with helpless need. But she wanted something more than that. She wanted to take away his troubles, to make him surrender to her the way she had, to make him feel as good as he had done for her.
His thrusts increased, driving a bit deeper now, and she took him as best she could, stroking his shaft as he ravished her mouth. And just as she thought he would come, he grabbed her arms and lifted her, turning her around so that she faced his desk. He flipped her skirts up, spreading her stance wide before he slid into her wet and trembling body.
He took her, hard and fast, without any of the gentleness that had been present the first two times they’d made love. And she reveled in it, pressing back to meet him, her fingers tangling between her legs to rub her clitoris. The orgasm hit her hard and she cried out as he pushed his hand against her back, flattening her against the desk’s surface as he thrust again and again. At last he let out a ragged, animal moan and she felt the splash of his seed across her backside as he came.
For a while they remained like that, their panting breaths merging in the otherwise quiet room. But at last he withdrew, smoothing her skirts down over her and refastening his trouser front. She stood and faced him only to find his expression back to being unreadable despite their passionate joining.
“You see,” he said. “You haven’t displeased me.”
She nodded. “Good.”
He stepped closer and kissed her once more. Then he went back around his desk and sat down. “I have some work to do. I’ll see you at supper.”
She blinked at the sharp change from passionate lover to this disconnected and disinterested duke who sat before her, his attention already back on his work like she was a servant to be dismissed.
Stealing The Duke Page 6
