Devil Take the Duke (Lords of the Night Book 1)

by Sandra Sookoo

  More. How much more? Marriage meant bedding her for a purpose, to set up his nursery, beget an heir and a spare. Conversely, if the curse wasn’t broken and those children were male, they, too, would grow up with the same affliction he had. Nonsense. Haven’t I already seen that love offers nothing but heartbreak and strife?

  It will be different with you, for the choice is always yours, his wolf reminded him. If your children are lucky enough to have beasts of their own, they will have lifelong companions. Is that such a bad thing?

  Bah! He lunged into the tree line and changed directions. Going back to London was what he needed to do right now. I’ve had enough of this conversation. It did him no good and didn’t help him out of the mire in which he currently resided. The thought of debating the merits or not of housing a wolf within was beyond his ken at the moment.

  How the hell had one woman featured so heavily in his thoughts after such a short amount of time?

  Yes, bedding her was the answer, and only after that could he attend to other matters with a clear head and conscience.

  The sun had been up two hours by the time he roused himself from the bath, dressed with the help of his valet, Burroughs, and then made his way to the morning room, where he’d fallen into the habit of taking breakfast of late. It was one of the only rooms in the townhouse that had full use of the autumn sun, and it was cozy enough that he could remain by himself without the feeling of being alone swamping him.

  He’d barely seated himself at a round table that sat four, when a frustrated huff sounded at the doorway. “I know that sound,” he said by way of greeting as he accepted a filled plate from a footman.

  Lady Elizabeth Sinclair popped her hands upon her hips and glared at him from her position. She wore her hair down this morning, tied back with a blue ribbon, and the caramel tresses gleamed in the morning sun streaming in from floor-to-ceiling windows. “Where have you taken yourself this week without a word?”

  Donovan rolled his eyes. “Anywhere the wolf wants to go.” He tucked into his breakfast with gusto, for morning runs consumed much of his energy. Around a mouthful of eggs and hamsteak, he asked, “Why do you want to know?”

  Four years his junior, Elizabeth had made herself his protector. She despised how horribly he and his friends were treated within the ton and worked tirelessly to smooth the way for him with the pillars of society. Each year a few more invitations trickled in, largely in part to her efforts, but not even his sister’s charm could gain access to hallowed halls or coveted invitations.

  “How can I continue as your moral conscience if I don’t have a blessed clue where you are, or if you’ve tumbled yourself into danger?” She advanced into the morning room, and when she flounced into a chair next to him in a cloud of blue skirting, she heaved another sigh.

  “I never asked you to, and I don’t tell you things because you’ll worry.” Inside his head, his wolf laid down and covered his eyes with his paws. Donovan grinned. Teasing her was one of the things that brought him pleasure. “Please, share this meal with me. It’s rare that you’re in residence the same time I am.”

  His sister harrumphed again but accepted a plate from the footman. When Donovan jerked his head, the young man hastened from the room. Yes, the whole of his staff knew of his affliction, and they’d gone through a rigorous vetting process to ascertain their secrecy and loyalty, but there were some things he didn’t wish discussed before them. They doted on him, but he refused to let them know how gruesome his beast could be when tearing through livestock or fighting for survival while in the woods.

  “Donovan.” Elizabeth softened her gaze and landed it on him. “Are any of these places where you wish to go? Becoming the wolf is one thing, and you cannot help it, but eventually you need to do that which makes you happy. You need to come to terms with what your life is—darkness and all.”

  “I rather think that I have.” When she cocked an eyebrow, he sighed. “I haven’t killed anyone, if that’s what you’ll ask.”

  “That’s good to know, but for how long? If you beast wishes it, would you do it?”

  He laid his hand over hers, choosing not to answer her. “Why concern yourself with me? You have your own life.” Though, because his title had been black-listed long ago, the likelihood of her making an advantageous match was more of a challenge than for other duke’s sisters. The weight of that responsibility lay heavy on his shoulders. “Or, I should say, you have a life of your own making, no thanks to me.” Besides her self-appointed title of being his protector and social secretary, Elizabeth did charitable works in some of the lowliest and economically depressed sections of the city. Her most recent cause was bringing bread to the children who had the misfortune of living in or near the Dials.

  And she did it with full confidence, for if she fell into trouble or was molested, her brother would rain down vengeance while in wolf form. She knew what it would cost him if he opted to sink his teeth into human flesh. Once it happened, resisting that call would break him, and he worked too hard to prevent such an occurrence.

  “Pish posh, brother.” She squeezed his fingers. “Why my concern? It’s been too long since you’ve smiled. You’re two shakes away from brooding, and that simply cannot be allowed, for it is gloomy enough around here.”

  “I apologize. Life hasn’t exactly turned out the way I’d hoped for you.” His sister rattled about the townhouse to remain with him, sacrificing her time to keep him out of trouble.

  “It’s never too late to think circumstances might change.” Then she turned her big brown eyes upon him and really looked at him. “There’s a different air about you today, though. You have a new glint of hope at the backs of your gaze. Why?” Interest sprang into her expression as she waited on his answer.

  “Ah, Elizabeth.” His champion, even if he didn’t wish it. After throwing his linen napkin onto the tabletop, Donovan pushed away and rose to his feet. “I don’t wish to have this discussion right now.” The last thing he needed was his sister to make his love life her next project.

  “And I do. You have too many secrets as it is.” She sprang from her seat and swiftly pushed him back into his with a hand on his shoulder. “Is it about the curse? You haven’t attempted to reverse it for a while, and Lord knows the women you have through here don’t exactly fit the parameters of how to break it.”

  A trace of heat climbed the back of his neck. “That isn’t something you’ll need to worry about in the future.” He loved his sister, and perhaps her insight would help him unravel the knots of his thoughts. Donovan waved her into her seat. “Mayhap this is about the curse, but it’s a mess of confusion.”

  “Ah, it is about a woman!” Elizabeth shoved her mostly untouched breakfast plate away. She planted her elbows on the table and dropped her chin in her hands, her eyes wide. “What’s special about this one?”

  Would that I knew. He shrugged. “I don’t know, other than she’s an innocent.”

  Elizabeth erupted into laughter. “The virgin who lured the beast.”

  “Yes.” Donovan gritted his teeth while the heat on his neck intensified. “No. Perhaps, but she might accept me—curse and all—for she’s carrying her own affliction.”

  “Cursed?” She gasped.

  “No.” He shook his head. “She’s blind.”

  “Donovan Sinclair, how dare you?” Again, his sister jumped to her feet, and again, she popped her hands on her hips as she glared. “You’ll hurt her, ruin her, toy with her affections, and all for the damned curse? That is beyond cruel, even for you.”

  His jaws parted slightly while he gaped at her. Then he remembered himself and his manners. “I understand how you feel; however, for a chance to grasp humanity without being cursed as the beast…”

  “Then be human with your actions.” She shook her head so vigorously that her hair flared about her shoulders. “If you mean to break the curse by using another person in such a manner, you deserve to remain beneath your affliction for the rest of your days.”
His sister closed the distance between them as he stood. She drilled a forefinger into his chest. “Be a better man… now. Find a different way.” Then her voice softened. “You’re aren’t that heartless. And you are desperate to live as other men. Perhaps that will happen; perhaps it won’t, but don’t throw away what humanity you do have by trifling with a woman’s affections.”

  He grabbed her hand and then kissed the back of it. “Only time will tell, dearest of all sisters, if I’m heartless or not.” But he appreciated her chastisement. It kept him honest, if he wished it.

  She huffed, but she smiled. “In other news, I directed the butler to throw out things leftover from your last mistress. If she was so careless of her belongings, she doesn’t deserve them, and quite frankly, I don’t wish her to return for them.”

  Donovan rolled his eyes. Elizabeth had never liked any of his paramours. “It’s for the best.” And reminded him that he needed to formally break things off with the Lady Celia. One more thing to add to the mounting pile of responsibilities that he didn’t care to tackle, for Alice dominated his thoughts. “I’m off to visit Miss Morrowe.”

  “Please think about what I said.” But Elizabeth stood aside to let him pass. “There’s always room for improvement no matter how a person struggles.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.” With a wink, he escaped the morning room, but his mind remained conflicted, perhaps more so than before.

  Donovan arrived in Shalford too late to escort Alice to church, so he boldly walked to the water mill and then rapped upon the door to her room.

  As the panel opened and Alice stood in the frame, she gasped, and he remained perplexed at how she knew it was him there. “Your Grace, er, I mean, Donovan.” Twin spots of rosy color bloomed on her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

  “Calling upon you.” He flashed her a grin that had won him the regard of ladies before her. “May I come in?”

  “It’s the height of scandal, my lord. I have no chaperone.”

  “We have not had such at any of our previous meetings, but I promise to behave.” He winked. “Now might I come in?”

  Emotions crossed her face in quick succession: doubt, interest, curiosity, pleasure. Finally, she nodded. “Very well.” Alice stood aside, and he made certain his arm grazed her breast as he went past. A tiny gasp was the only indication she acknowledged the brief touch, and it made him grin.

  Then shock cycled through him as he glanced about the tiny room she resided in. A narrow bed occupied one wall with a simple nightstand beside it. A tidy quilt of faded patchwork lay over the bunk, with a straight-backed wooden chair waiting at the foot of the bed. Dainty, lace-edged ivory curtains of muslin hung at the single window. A battered wingback chair of maroon brocade rested in one corner with a small, round, rose-inlaid table. In another corner, a stand containing a basin and pitcher waited, with clean lengths of folded fabric waiting for daily ablutions. A faintly clouded oval mirror hung on the wall above, and he wondered at it, for she wouldn’t make use of such a thing.

  How the devil did she manage to live in such tight quarters, even if she did keep her lodgings neat, orderly, and feminine?

  “You’re wondering how I could possibly live in such a place.” The dulcet tones of Alice’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

  “You either know me too well, or you’ve heard the question before.” He remained close to her, and the light, flirty scents of apricot with the warm, sweet aroma of vanilla wafted to his nose. Why, she smelled positively delicious, like the finest French pastry. His hunger for her grew exponentially. Perhaps today was the perfect time for a seduction.

  “It is a little of both.” Her lips curved with a smile, and he couldn’t stop gazing at those plump pieces of flesh. “Let me say that I wasn’t given a choice, but this room has grown on me. It’s the only spot in the world that belongs just to me, and it’s more than some in my position have.” A quiet sort of desperation clung to the statement.

  “No need to explain.” He raked his gaze over her person. The simple day gown of mint green, though a few years out of style, clung to her curves in all the right ways. She tempted him merely by moving naturally. His groin tightened. “I’d meant to arrive earlier, perhaps escort you to church, for I assume you attend?”

  “I do, for it’s expected when one lives in a small village such as this one.” Her smile remained in place. “Also, I firmly believe in thanking God whenever I can for the life I lead. It could always be worse.”

  His respect for her rose and he took possession of her hand, cursing the fact that once again he wasn’t touching her skin to skin. “You are a marvel, Alice, and that fascinates me.” How many times in the course of his life had he cursed and railed at the heavens for his own life circumstances?

  She squeezed his fingers. “The Creator only gives us what we can bear, and perhaps to show others the particular mountain He has assigned can be conquered.” She lifted her face and smiled, her gaze finding his without seeing. “Why should I go about with a woeful attitude when I could be encouraging others with optimism?”

  “Why indeed?” Teach me how. Not for worlds would he utter those words aloud, for he didn’t wish to appear weak in front of her. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist where her pulse hammered.

  A soft inhalation of breath followed, but she didn’t pull away. “You shouldn’t be here. Already the village is talking about you, and consequently me. Not all of it is flattering.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Society, any society, will always gossip about those they consider different, and about me especially.”

  “Why?”

  “Like you, I suffer from an affliction of sorts.” His jaw worked as he sought appropriate words that wouldn’t reveal too much too soon. “At times it is… isolating.” How often did he hide himself away in his townhouse, avoiding human interaction, for what was the point when the curse would eventually make itself known and frighten away everyone he cared about?

  “Donovan.” Alice slid out of his grasp only to run her fingertips along one side of his face. The sweetest of tingles followed in her wake and he briefly closed his eyes against the novelty of her touch. “Will you tell me what you struggle with?”

  “Would that I could.” Unaccountably, he nuzzled into her palm, reveling in her warmth. Women didn’t voluntarily treat him with tenderness. Of course, he used them as play things, for physical release, to ward off bouts of loneliness, but the curse was an exacting task master, and once the deed was done, he was always compelled to tell them of his alter-ego. Which started the process all over again in an endless loop. He placed his hand over hers and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Perhaps another time.”

  Alice stepped closer to him, framing his face between her hands, their noses touching. She peered into his eyes, while the strangest sensation washed over him. Her eyes, so clear, so trusting, cut through to his soul even if she couldn’t see him fully. It was intimate and he craved more. “Are you a good man despite your affliction?”

  Was he? Not according to his history as seen through her perspective. Suddenly, he hated what had become of his life and strove to conduct himself better. “Only time will tell…”

  …and if the curse is lifted.

  Inside his head, his wolf whined but didn’t comment.

  She smiled, and his gaze once more dropped to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, taste her, drink from her until the fount of joy she seemed to sip from transferred to him. “It’s never too late to change.”

  It was uncanny how she seemed to follow his thoughts, or even those that his sister had said. “You don’t know…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if it is possible now.” To prevent her from asking more questions or probing too deeply, he cupped a hand around her neck, pulled her to him and then kissed her. He gently explored, nibbling at the corners, asking permission, searching for answers he anxiously wished to find. There was no pressure, no demands as he softly
tasted her plush lips. When she shivered and a sigh shuddered from her, he pulled away with a grin. Oh yes, she would fall, and soon. He fit her hand to his crooked elbow. “Let us walk and perhaps remove ourselves from temptation.”

  And me from doing something that will jeopardize this seduction.

  Alice nodded, but bemusement twinkled in her gray eyes.

  Not far out of the village proper, a hulking man wearing a blacksmith’s apron intercepted them. He stood in the middle of the path, and glared at her.

  “What game do you play, Miss Morrowe? You refused my bed, but chose his?” He sneered and spit in Donovan’s direction. “I never took you for a whore, but then I ain’t high on the instep like a duke, eh?” He narrowed his gaze on her, and when he raked his hot gaze along her body, Donovan stiffened. “Does he pay you well while you’re on your back?”

  When Alice gasped, Donovan drew himself up to his full height. He slipped an arm about her waist while strong protective instincts grew. Inside his head, his wolf snapped to attention, his hackles raised, a warning growl in his throat, his teeth bared.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll cease babbling nonsense and let the lady and I pass.” Every inch of the duke rang in his tone.

  “What, the doxies in London don’t satisfy you anymore?” the man continued as he swung his angry, deep-set gaze to Donovan.

  “Enough, sir. I won’t ask you again to cease and desist.” Warning rumbled in his voice.

  “Mayhap I’ll throw a punch and see how brave you are after that,” the man taunted instead.

  Before Donovan could reply, Alice stepped forward, her cheeks red, anger flashing silver in her eyes. “Stop your lies this minute, Joe. What you say is horrible enough, but to nearly assault a duke? Threaten him? Even you have to know how dangerous that is.” She curled a hand into a fist. Would she fly at him with fists raised if she had the opportunity? Donovan appreciated her instinct to defend him.