When to Dare a Dishonorable Duke: Romancing the Rake

by Andresen, Tammy

  He tugged off his shirt. Perhaps he’d made the wrong choice. But whenever he was with her, he couldn’t maintain an emotional distance between them.

  Unbuttoning the falls of his breeches, he rose and slid his pants down his body, pulling back the covers in the dark room and slipping into the bed.

  That was when he realized, he wasn’t alone.

  Warmth hit him the second he touched what should have been cold sheets. He lifted his head attempting to process when an arm slid across his stomach. “You finally decided to join me.”

  “Cassandra.” He started to pull away but she tightened her arm about his waist.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered and then pressed against his side.

  “I can’t—” he started.

  She pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. His eyes closed as her lips sent a tingling sensation across his skin. “It’s all right. I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  She nodded and then kissed his collarbone. “You’ve been terribly hurt. You’re trying to protect yourself.”

  He closed his eyes as her lips slid lower down his chest. But his arm snaked around her waist, tangling in her night rail. “I can’t give my heart to you only to be hurt again.”

  “I know,” she answered. “But I’ll do my best to never hurt you.” She trailed kisses down his abdomen planting a kiss between each ridge of muscle. “What I wish to do is give you the affection you desperately need.”

  Did he? Did he need affection? The way his heart pounded in his chest, Damian was certain she was right. “I’ve been alone for a long time now.”

  “I know,” she answered, running a hand down his thigh. “That life is lonely but…comfortable.”

  He nodded like she might be able to see him in the dark. Then he answered out loud. “Yes. But I needed a change. That’s why I went out that night and sought out Balstead. I thought I was ready.”

  “But you’re scared again,” she said, then placed a kiss right on the tip of his manhood. He convulsed with need.

  “Yes.” How had she gotten him to admit that? He never shared feelings like that with anyone. “How did you know?”

  “I’m scared too,” she answered. Then she took him into her mouth. So soft, so warm, he shuddered, threading his hands into his hair. “But you. You’re more important than the fear. That’s what I’ve decided.”

  Those words sunk in as she took him back into her mouth. He’d needed to hear that. Needed to know that she wanted him more than her own fears, her own issues.

  “You’re important to me too,” he groaned out as she slid him deeper into her mouth. “That’s why I married you despite all my worry. I couldn’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

  She lifted up. “Thank you, my love.”

  My love? His chest swelled even as his body responded to her touch. He loved her too. It was why he’d been so afraid of her hurting him. He was in love with her. If he were honest, he’d felt that way from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  He’d called it passion but there had been jealousy. A need to protect her that had risen from the beginning.

  Perhaps from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. “You love me?”

  “Yes,” she answered even as her lips took him back in.

  “I love you too,” he said even as he pulled her up his body.

  Their lips met and he claimed her with a deep kiss that left them both breathless.

  When he finally tore his mouth away, he skimmed his hands down her body, grabbing the hem of her night rail and pulling it up her thighs, around her waist and then over her head.

  He sent it sailing through the air, the white of the garment catching the tiny bit of light the stars cast into the room. Her skin pressed down against his and he growled out his satisfaction as her body fit against his.

  Her legs naturally came around to either side of him, his cock nestling into the soft folds of her womanhood.

  “Cassandra,” he said as he kissed her again. “I’m sorry that I was so cold today. I knew the moment I touched you—”

  She pushed back, taking him inside her. “Shh,” she murmured, rocking against him. “Now is the time for us to focus on our future. Together.”

  “Our future,” he repeated, holding her backside as they began to move together. Somehow, inside her as he was, everything was clear.

  Cassandra had always been the right woman for him. His instincts had been spot-on after all.

  She was kind, loving, soft in all the ways he was hard. She fit him in body and mind perfectly. “I love you,” he repeated, kissing her again.

  “I love you, too.”

  They said no more as they came together over and over, driving each other higher until he could sense that Cassandra was close.

  She tightened against him, her arms clutching at his neck. “Damian,” she cried and he felt her break apart.

  He couldn’t hold his own finish back and he roared with satisfaction as he came undone.

  They lay in the circle of each other’s arms as he stroked his hand up and down her back. He was home. It didn’t matter where that was, provided she was with him.

  Epilogue

  One year later…

  Cassandra stood next to him, stringing ribbon with one hand over the bows of holly she’d collected.

  In the other, nestled a babe.

  His babe. A boy who had been healthy and strong and would squall uncontrollably if his mama set him down.

  Damian understood his son’s reaction perfectly. He never wanted to leave her arms either.

  “How soon until they arrive?” Cassandra asked for the third time that hour.

  “Any minute now,” he answered his grin soft as he stroked her back. “Your impatience will not make them come any faster.”

  It was near Christmastide and it had been decided that Balstead and his new bride would come to their home for the holiday. Which meant Chase and Ophelia had decided to come along with Hartwell and Juliet.

  Naturally, the other sisters couldn’t bear to be parted from their family and so the entire Moorish clan was going to attend along with their husbands.

  Damian shook his head. He’d have never believed a year ago that he’d be having a big family celebration for Christmastide and he’d certainly never imagined that he’d be happy about it.

  But those men had become his brothers over the last year and their wives Cassandra’s sisters.

  He’d found in them a family he’d never thought he’d have again.

  “How old is Craven and Bianca’s daughter?” He reached out a hand and stroked his son’s temple.

  “Two months.” She smiled. “And hopefully up for the short journey here.”

  He nodded as he kissed his wife’s temple. “Thank goodness we’re building a summer cottage near by the Moorish property.”

  Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Summer cottage?” They’d begun construction this past summer. “It’s the largest house you own.” Then her grin grew. “And it’s near Christmastide and we’ve yet to return to London.”

  He shrugged. He no longer needed the anonymity that London provided. He found with Cassandra by his side, people had all but stopped seeing his scar. Or perhaps he just didn’t care any longer.

  Hooves on the drive made them both snap up their heads. “They’re here,” Cassandra called as she gave him a wide smile. “I’m so glad we’ll all be together for the holiday.”

  “Me too, love,” he answered as they crossed the foyer to the door.

  It had no more opened and a burst of lords, ladies, and babies flooded into their hall. Well, only one other baby, but both Ophelia and Juliet were expecting.

  Damian stood back for a moment as everyone hugged and chatted away.

  Mr. Moorish entered the hall last, stepping up to Damian to shake his hand. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Thank you for coming.” Damian liked this man more than he could say. His kindness was a balm that had soothed
the few wounds Cassandra had yet to address.

  Mr. Moorish gave him an open grin as he looked around. “Construction is going well.”

  “Indeed,” Damian answered with a wink. “It’ll cost me a small fortune by the time I’m through.”

  Mr. Moorish pumped his hand. “Worry not. It’s money well invested. Seabridge Gate will provide for your family the way it’s provided for mine. You’ll see.”

  His heart expanded as he looked about, then Damian gave a single nod. He never wanted to be anywhere else.

  Earl of Gold

  Lords of Scandal

  Tammy Andresen

  Why did he need love if he had gold?

  The Earl of Goldthwaite had spent his entire adult life accumulating wealth. It was his life’s goal to never end up as his father had, penniless and rotting in some debtor’s prison. He has no time for such silly notions as love or romance. When he eventually marries, he’ll find a nice heiress to increase his holdings. But when Miss Penny Walters waltzes into his life, he knows she’s all wrong for him. As poor as her name implies, she’s nothing that he wanted. Just another woman attempting to part him from his gold. So why can’t he look away?

  Who needed gold when her heart was rich with love?

  Penny’s life had been charmed, at least she’d always believed so until the age of twelve. Though her parents had little assets, they’d had enough to be comfortable and their home had been rich with affection. After their death, she’s determined to live the rest of her life the way they taught her. With her whole heart. Her first task was to open an orphanage in a poor London neighborhood. One that would give back to the community. The problem? She needed a loan to make her dream come true. And the one man she might be able to ask for such a sum was…

  The miserly Earl of Gold.

  It filled her with sick dread but what choice did she have? What she never expected was to find herself drawn to such a man. He’s nothing that she ever wanted and everything she wished to stand against. But the longer she knows him, the more she wonders: is there a soft heart under that hard-shiny veneer of gold?

  Earl of Gold is a bridge between the first and second round in the Lords of Scandal series. You can find the first round for sale on Amazon:

  Duke of Daring

  Marquess of Malice

  Earl of Exile

  Viscount of Vice

  Baron of Bad

  The second round is coming very soon.

  Duke of Decadence

  Marquess of Menace

  Earl of Infamy

  Baron of Blasphemy

  Viscount of Vanity

  Duke of Debauchery

  Earl of Baxter

  Earl of Gold

  Earl of Gold, that is what society’s elite called Logan, the Earl of Goldthwaite.

  The nickname was meant as an insult, he assumed, by the way the ladies curled their upper lip behind their fans or the gentlemen sneered around their glasses of port.

  Which perplexed Logan to no end. First because they were all rich. Of course, he was richer than most, he understood that. But a man should think that would mean the elite would respect rather than disdain his wealth.

  After all, while they had all inherited from their father’s father’s father, he, on the other hand, had taken a broken title and forged it in gold, lifting himself back up out of the ashes.

  Perhaps that was what they disliked, how hard he worked while they leisurely played croquet or whatever ridiculous pursuits they filled their time with. And assumed they were better for it.

  Since he’d been a boy, they had all assumed they were better. At school, he’d been shown every single day how much less he was for his father’s debts.

  Or mayhap they found him too hard with the shiny outer crust he’d built around himself. But society had helped to form that thick outer layer. Had it not?

  He turned his head to the side, cracking his neck, the pop echoing in the empty room.

  The Duke of Darlington, who’d been droning on with an endless list of figures, lifted a brow. “I thought you, of all men, would appreciate a thorough accounting of potential sales.”

  Logan gave a single bark of laughter, as he looked about the dark interior of the Den of Sins. That’s what the former owners had called this place. He’d yet to decide what he might name it if the sale went through. “I do, indeed.” The place reeked of stale liquor, body odor, and…potential.

  Tucked in a seedy corner of the East End near the Docklands, the place made more money than any other endeavor he’d undertaken and his fingers itched to ink the contract that would make this gaming hell his.

  Logan gave a cold smile, running his hand through his short blond hair. Perhaps that was the reason they’d disliked him. He’d use any method to make money. He didn’t give a shit about what was respectable. Actually, he didn’t care about most of their rules. They were meant to hurt nearly everyone.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  Darlington was known within these walls as Daring. A duke and several of his friends had turned this place into a treasure trove of coin. It was not fashionable for lords to own such a place but Daring had done it anyway.

  “Then why do you appear to be completely lost and not listening to a word I’ve uttered in the last five minutes?” The duke kicked out a chair from a nearby table and sat down.

  Logan joined him, grabbing a chair and stretching out his long legs in front of him as he crossed his arms in over his chest. His casual stance belied the tension in him. He’d make enough money to prove to all of them that he was the best. They’d curl their lips no longer at his sullied name.

  Deep down, he knew why they judged him. He’d been ruined at one time, beneath them. Despite the title, everyone knew about the scandal that tainted his family. His father’s disgrace. And no amount of gold seemed enough to elevate his status once again.

  Still, he’d collect enough coin to buy and sell all of London just to know that he could. To snub his nose at them. “I don’t understand why you had five partners. This place could make a man rich beyond his wildest dreams.”

  Daring drew in a deep breath, carefully assessing the man across from him. His dark eyes glittered with interest and studied Logan’s face.

  Logan felt his jaw clench, his fingers flexing under his biceps where they lay hidden.

  If the duke chose another buyer…

  “You already have several business ventures. This club is a full-time job in and of itself.”

  Logan grimaced, recognizing the truth in the words. He didn’t like them but he understood them, nonetheless. “That is a valid point.”

  Daring leaned forward. “And forgive me if I am overstepping but your reputation lacks a certain…”

  “Respectability?” Logan asked, sitting up straighter in his chair. This meeting seemed to be going further off-kilter with every passing minute.

  “Indeed,” Daring chuckled. “Which doesn’t matter to me.”

  Logan let out a long breath, his shoulders hunching. Good. He’d never won a popularity contest and wasn’t likely to start now.

  “But,” Daring held up a finger, “A gaming hell will not help you move in the right direction. It won’t gain you any respectability if that’s what you’re searching for.”

  Logan gave a low grunt in response. The ton’s opinion of him was far less important than his own pursuit of wealth, but he supposed acceptance by the most elite in society would banish the specter of his past forever. And he could only gain more financial footholds with respectability. “It’s a lesser goal, to be certain. But enlighten me, anyhow. How do partners help with that?”

  “Not only do they defray the work but they help protect your identity. Someone might recognize you. We wore masks, but occasionally, a discerning eye would recognize one of us anyway. However, the moment your saboteur tries to brag to his friends that he knows the owner of the Den of Sins, another will pipe up that they saw lord so and so or such and such. The two will argue and in the
end, most everyone will believe neither has a clue. In that way, no rumor gains momentum.”

  “But it isn’t rumor,” Logan answered. He was being petulant because he didn’t want partners even if all of Daring’s points made a great deal of sense. “And I’m not sure I care who in London knows I own this club.” He cracked his neck again. “And who is so and so and such and such?”

  Daring laughed low. “My partners will remain my business. But your partners…” He drew a long, thin cheroot from his pocket and took his time lighting it with a nearby candle. “Are also my business.”

  Logan rumbled, deep in his throat. Damn the man. He wasn’t going to sign today after all. He knew Daring was stalling now. “If I don’t care who knows I am the owner then why would I need partners at all?”

  Daring passed another cheroot over to Logan without a word. Then he took a long draw off it, holding it in his lungs before he let out a puff of breath. “Camaraderie is part of what makes this place a success. Men feel it when they walk through the door. It isn’t just another place where drunks come to part with their money. It’s a place where men can bond. These walls are infused with brotherhood. In other words, you won’t even come close to our profits without partners.”

  Horseshit. That’s what Logan wanted to say. But he drew in a long breath and cooled his heating temper. “How many? Partners that is, so that we can close the deal.”

  A haze of smoke was filling the air around Daring’s head. “Three at least.”

  Logan’s hand slapped his thigh. Too many. “Is that your only stipulation? That I find partners?” Like finding three men to work with him wasn’t going to be difficult enough. He had a reputation for not playing nice with others.

  The duke was silent for so long Logan’s skin began to itch again. By force of will he kept himself from shifting in his seat. Finally, the duke mumbled. “There is one other…”