To Desire a Wicked Duke

by Nicole Jordan

  When Ian appeared in the doorway a moment later, his intent gaze met hers across the room. Sensing danger, Tess glanced away quickly.

  She would hold to her current strategy, she resolved firmly. She would do her utmost to hide her weakness for Ian and maintain their adversarial relationship. She would continue to keep her memories of Richard in the forefront of her mind and heart and purposely stoke her feelings of guilt.

  Really, she had no choice. For her own self-protection, she had to use every weapon at her disposal to prevent her desire for Ian from growing strong enough to captivate her heart.

  Why has the threat of danger to Ian left me so shaken?

  —Diary Entry of Miss Tess Blanchard

  Tess shivered as midnight neared. For over three hours she’d waited on the battlements with Fanny and Basil and Ned Crutchley, hidden behind the crenellations. A chill wind cut through her cloak, while the cold from the stone seeped into her bones.

  Ned was close beside her, watching the cove through another arrow port, and Fanny and Basil were a short distance away. In the dim moonlight, Tess could make out the beach below the castle, although visibility was further reduced by a thick cloud cover that portended rain. Occasionally, she could even see the dark shadows of militia troops.

  Ian had stationed the government soldiers around the castle, disguised as groundskeepers and various other servants. Half a dozen men were inside the cave, secreted in the tunnel. Several more troops were concealed at the base of the bluffs, out of sight of the cave entrance. There was also an armed Revenue cutter standing offshore to cut off escape by sea. If the thieves managed to elude the ambush, the cutter would be alerted by lantern signal.

  Tess shifted restlessly, trying to ease the ache in her limbs from remaining motionless for so long. Her nerves felt acutely on edge, for although they had planned as well as humanly possible, she had difficulty believing that nothing would go wrong.

  Beside her, Ned seemed surprisingly calm. He’d been included in the proceedings, since he could identify Jolly Banks and his men and determine if any were missing, and he had sworn to help.

  “Ye need a spot of patience, yer grace,” Ned whispered now at her movement. “In the Army, we had to wait days, even weeks, for a battle to begin.”

  Feeling humbled at the reminder of all Ned had endured, Tess steeled herself for another long interval of inactivity.

  It was perhaps twenty minutes later when he pointed down at the water. Tess recognized the dark shape of a fishing smack sailing silently into the cove.

  “ ’Tis Jolly’s boat, I’ll wager,” Ned said.

  A short while later, the smack dropped anchor. Squinting, Tess could make out the outline of a rowboat gliding toward shore and counted a half dozen men inside, more shadows than forms. When the prow touched land, the rowers climbed out and dragged the rowboat higher onto the beach so that the waves couldn’t wash the vessel back into the water.

  Then four shadows headed directly for the bluff, leaving two behind.

  Tess couldn’t tell if they spoke to each other. The low sound of the surf, along with the more delicate rush of the waterfall below, drowned out any voices from that far away—and she knew, in turn, that the castle inhabitants couldn’t be heard from this high up on the battlements.

  But Ned kept his voice to a whisper all the same. “ ’Ere we go.”

  Tess held her breath as the main group of shadows disappeared beneath the castle walls, out of her line of sight. The plan was to wait for the thieves to claim their stolen bounty before swarming them all at once.

  “See the two left on shore?” Ned said quietly. “That short fellow by the boat is Jolly. Ye can tell by ’is ’at.”

  Tess did see. The others wore knit stocking caps, but Jolly wore a tricorn. She also noted his stance—legs spread, one arm raised as if aiming a weapon.

  “Is that a pistol he’s holding?” she asked, suddenly alarmed.

  “Aye, Mum, Jolly always goes armed.”

  Tess felt her heart jolt. Ian had warned her of the danger, but she hadn’t quite realized that apprehending Banks’s band of thieves could possibly be lethal.

  She started counting seconds then, trying to gauge how much time would be needed for the main group of thieves to enter the cave and claim the chests. When she reached one hundred and twelve, the silence of the night was abruptly ended by muffled shouts that carried even to her post on the battlements.

  For an instant, the two figures on shore remained frozen. Then the thief with Jolly scurried to drag the rowboat into the water.

  More shouts reached Tess as some of the government troops outside the cave spilled onto the beach, heading toward the rowboat to prevent the thieves’ escape. When Banks realized he couldn’t make it to the boat in time, he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, parallel to the shore.

  A lone figure broke away from the militia and raced after him. Seeing he was being pursued, Banks cut left, making for the bluffs. No doubt he hoped to climb his way to freedom and disappear into the thick woods.

  Tess recognized the distinctive height and lithe, muscular form of the man in hot pursuit. Ian, she thought with renewed alarm.

  Ian changed course when Banks did, and then he, too, disappeared from view, below the battlements.

  Tess’s breath faltered, then failed altogether when a small explosion shattered the night—the crack of a pistol shot, she realized.

  When another gunshot rang out seconds later, Tess felt her heart go cold.

  Dear God, Ian.

  A small cry escaped her before she could stifle it, while Ned swore “Gor” under his breath. She’d felt a grave disquiet all evening long, but she had never imagined Ian might actually risk a shooting match with the leader of a gang of thieves.

  She clutched hard at Ned’s remaining bony hand, watching as militia troops surged in Ian’s wake.

  It seemed an eternity before anyone emerged from the shelter of the bluff. The soldiers were half carrying, half dragging a man between them, she saw.

  “Lookee, Mum … that’s Jolly.”

  The wounded man must be Banks, since she recognized Ian’s long, powerful stride in another shadow. He seemed unharmed, Tess thought, her relief so profound that her knees almost buckled.

  Basil exhaled audibly, while Fanny said, “Thank God.”

  Eventually the thieves were successfully rounded up and herded toward the path that led up to the castle, while more soldiers rowed out to the fishing smack, no doubt to commandeer the vessel and arrest any remaining culprits.

  When the beach was once again deserted, Basil spoke up. “They will be brought up to the castle courtyard, your grace. Perhaps we should go and meet them.”

  Tess swallowed the tight knot in her throat. She had not expected the threat to Ian to affect her so strongly. The danger was over now, but he could have been killed.

  It was a terrifying thought.

  Tess shuddered. She could have lost Ian just as she had lost Richard.

  “Are you all right?” Fanny asked at her elbow.

  “I am fine, just a little cold,” Tess lied.

  As if sensing her lingering horror, Fanny tried to reassure her. “I had faith that Rotham would prevail. He is accounted a crack shot.”

  The courtesan’s confidence soothed Tess marginally, but she wanted to see Ian for herself, to touch him, to convince herself that he was unharmed.

  They made their way down through the castle to the courtyard, which by now was lit by lanterns, but they remained with Ned in the shadows, not wanting to expose him to his former colleagues’ wrath.

  They had to wait for another long interval before the armed militia appeared with their prisoners. Banks was groaning in pain and unable to support his own weight, Tess saw. Evidently he had been shot in the upper leg, for his thigh had been bandaged.

  She watched as the thieves were loaded into a wagon that had been brought around from the stableyard to transport them to Fowey. Then their arms an
d legs were bound to prevent their escape.

  Yet she only felt able to breathe once Ian joined her a few minutes later, even though his focus was on Ned rather than her.

  Ned had supplied the names of all the thieves already, but Ian asked him to confirm the culprits. “Do those men account for all of Banks’s gang, Mr. Crutchley?”

  Ned scanned the prisoners. “Aye, yer grace, that’s the lot.”

  In response, Ian gestured at the militia lieutenant, who gave the command to proceed.

  As the wagon rattled away, guarded by a dozen mounted troops, Ian’s gaze at last turned to Tess. “I trust now you understand why I didn’t want you involved tonight?”

  “Yes,” she conceded, drinking him in. “For several moments there, I feared you had been shot.”

  A humorless smile curled his mouth. “Banks fired and missed—but in actuality, I am glad he attempted to shoot me, since assault on a peer will only cement the other charges against him.” Ian gestured after the departing wagon. “I mean to accompany the prisoners to Fowey, to see they are properly secured for the night. It will likely be an hour or two before I return. Why don’t you retire? There is no need for you to wait up for me.”

  “Very well,” Tess agreed, managing to keep her voice even.

  Ian gave her an intent glance, as if trying to divine what she was thinking, before turning away and mounting his own horse.

  Repressing the urge to follow him with her gaze, Tess went inside the castle. The entire household was awake, waiting anxiously to hear the results of the operation. Upon learning of the successful conclusion, Mrs. Hiddleston clapped her hand over her heart. “Thank heavens for the duke, capturing those criminals. We can all sleep safe in our beds now.”

  The housekeeper was particularly solicitous of Ned, and when he had been put snugly to bed, she turned her motherly concern on Tess.

  “Would you care for a glass of warm milk, your grace, to take the chill off your bones?”

  Tess declined, however, deciding that something stronger was warranted. After all the turmoil, she felt too restless to retire, so when castle staff began to settle down for the night, she accompanied Fanny and Basil to the drawing room, where they poured glasses of wine and discussed the case against Jolly Banks and his cohorts. Since Basil had been a law clerk for several years, he ventured a prediction.

  On the morrow, the thieves would be arraigned by the Justice of the Peace and conveyed to Falmouth, where they would be jailed until the next assizes were convened. If indicted by a grand jury, they would go to trial immediately. Since the lieutenant of the militia had made the official arrests, the Crown would prosecute the crimes, but the victims of the thefts could bring charges as well. And a conviction for assault against the Duke of Rotham would bring the most serious punishment of all.

  “At the very least, Banks will be imprisoned for a very long time,” Basil assured Tess. “He may even be transported or hanged. And Crutchley’s testimony will not be needed, since the thieves incriminated themselves. His cohorts will likely never know that he turned on them.”

  Tess felt a surge of relief, knowing that Ned would be safe. His future was still uncertain, but she hoped to persuade him to accompany her when she left Cornwall for home. Thanks in large part to her cousin Damon, Viscount Wrexham, there now was a hospital in London where Ned could get much better medical care than here, not only for his physical wounds but for his mental ones as well.

  A few moments later, Fanny changed the subject to her own future. “Would you mind very much if I returned to London soon, Tess? I am nearly finished with my novel, and I need to tie up any number of business matters.” Fanny shared a loving look with Basil before adding, “We want to be married as soon as possible. We have already waited far too long for our chance at wedded bliss.”

  Of course they were eager to begin their married life together, Tess thought to herself.

  “Certainly, I don’t mind,” she assured her friend. “In truth, it is time I considered returning home myself. There are countless details that impact my organizations which have been left unattended because I am not there to deal with them myself.”

  As for her own future, she didn’t like to remember that her marriage to Ian was still so unsettled.

  A short while later, Tess said good night to her friends and made her way to her husband’s bedchamber. A welcome fire burned in the grate, and after changing into her nightclothes, she went to the hearth and held out her hands, drawing on the warmth from the flames.

  She knew Ian was right; there was no reason for her to wait up for him. She ought to go to bed, yet she couldn’t possibly sleep just now. Her thoughts were still much too restless, her stomach churning with a vague feeling of dread.

  She hated that gnawing dread, Tess thought as she stared into the fire. Hated the uncertainty, the endless waiting, never knowing if the future would hold tragedy or hope.

  That unspoken fear was what the wives and families of soldiers endured every moment that their loved ones were away at war.

  What she had endured while Richard was away.

  What she had felt for Ian during several endless moments tonight.

  No doubt she was more sensitive now precisely because she had lost her betrothed, Tess knew. Logically, she had no reason to worry about Ian. He was perfectly safe now. And yet …

  Tonight she had faced a disturbing revelation, she acknowledged unwillingly: The emotions she felt for Ian were far stronger than she had let herself admit.

  Wincing, Tess turned away, although she still couldn’t make herself go to bed. She tried to read, but wound up pacing the room, pausing now and then to stare out the window at the dark night.

  It was some half hour later when she spied several horsemen riding toward the castle. Ian had returned home, Tess realized, yet she still didn’t know how she would deal with him.

  She settled in a chair to read, determined to pretend indifference. But when eventually she heard his quiet footsteps in the corridor, she abandoned her book.

  As the door swung open, Tess rose to her feet. Then Ian met her gaze and the air was suddenly charged with suppressed emotion.

  She didn’t mean to react so foolishly, honestly she didn’t. She meant to remain calm and totally in control of herself.

  Yet when Ian stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, Tess lunged forward and ran straight into his arms.

  She had surprised him, Tess realized, burying her face in his broad chest—and worried him as well. Ian’s voice was rough and low in her ear as he demanded, “What is wrong, sweetheart?”

  Her muffled reply was shaky. “Nothing is wrong. I am just glad that no harm came to you.”

  He held her for a moment longer before putting a finger under her chin to make her lift her head.

  When their gazes locked again, the air crackled as if an electrical pulse arced between them. Ian’s face was enigmatic, impassive, but his muscled body was tense and rigid, his eyes silver-hot.

  His blood was up, as was hers.

  Tess’s heart began to pound as she read the purpose in his eyes: He wanted her and he meant to have her.

  Yet she wanted him just as much.

  She didn’t protest when Ian turned with her and backed her against the wall. And when he brought his mouth down on hers, she responded by raising her hands to clutch at his hair and draw him even closer.

  His kiss was hard and urgent. Tess whimpered gratefully, her lips burning, aching, needing to be soothed. At the needy sound, he increased the pressure, roughly cupping her face, holding her still so that he could have his fill of her.

  His kiss, as fierce as fire, smoldered with pent-up emotions that stopped her breath.

  She was trembling when suddenly Ian broke off and lifted his head, his eyes burning with intensity. The gray depths had darkened into something both primitive and powerful, and Tess could sense the coiled need in him, feel the passion throbbing between them, hear the clash of their excited breaths in
the quiet hush of the room.

  When Ian’s hard body pressed hers more forcefully against the wall, Tess realized that he meant to take her then and there. A thrill coursed through her that made her stomach clench. She already felt swollen and ready for him to claim her and wished he would hurry.

  “Please, Ian …” she whispered.

  Obligingly, his mouth fell on hers again, hungry and hot. Not content with merely kissing, however, Ian lowered his hands from her face to mold her breasts through her nightdress, kneading, arousing.

  The shape of his wicked hands branded her and made her gasp. Then abruptly his fingers curved over the neckline of her gown and ripped the buttons away, rending the fragile fabric to bare her breasts.

  His wildness found an answering chord in Tess. She moaned when he bent his head and circled a nipple with his rasping tongue. And when he sucked the pebbled peak into his mouth, she arched into his hands, straining for his touch.

  Her senses were knife sharp and almost as painful; the need to be joined with him was unrelenting. Unconsciously, her hips began to move, grinding against the bulge at his groin, her body urging him to fill her.

  Thankfully, Ian responded to her need. Her naked breast still in his mouth, he rucked up the skirt of her nightdress and cupped the heat between her thighs. She felt her own slickness as his fingers rimmed her cleft, seeking and finding the throbbing bud of her desire and making her moan again.

  She was shaking now, Tess realized. Feeling frenzied, she fumbled at the front flap of his breeches, but Ian pushed her hands away impatiently and swiftly unbuttoned his breeches himself, releasing his manhood. The swollen arousal surged into her hand, thick and hard and pulsing.

  Tess sighed with relief and anticipation.

  Abandoning her breasts then, Ian slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted her. His breath thickened as he spread her thighs wider with his own and bent his legs so that he could part her moist flesh with his shaft.

  When he thrust inside her in one, long, sleek motion, Tess gasped, overwhelmed by each thick inch stretching her, filling her until the pressure was beyond exquisite.