The Duke of Desire

by Michaels, Jess

  She released his hand and smiled over her shoulder at him before she slipped through the crowd, disappearing from view. He grinned to himself as he went the other way. Past the other guests, his friends, down the long winding halls of James and Emma’s estate and into the parlor where he had first kissed Katherine. First made her cry out with pleasure. He loved this room. He wanted to prepare it so it would be a comfortable, safe place for her.

  He moved about the chamber, adding logs to the fire, fluffing pillows on the settee, pouring them each a drink in case she needed it to buoy her strength. In case he did.

  “Preparing for a lady?”

  He jerked his head up from what he was doing and found the Marquess of Berronburg leaning against the doorjamb with a drink in his hand. Robert straightened. He had not seen his…well, he supposed he ought to call the man a friend…since London. His cheeks flushed as he recalled their last conversation had been about Katherine. And the lurid wager Robert had declared he would win.

  Now that memory turned his stomach.

  “Berronburg,” he said, holding out a hand in greeting. “I did not realize you were here.”

  “It’s a crush,” Berronburg said as he entered the room and looked around with a wicked smile. “And I’m fairly certain I was not officially invited. I may own an estate on the outskirts of Abernathe’s land, but we are not especially friendly neighbors. His duchess thinks I’m uncouth.”

  Robert swallowed. “I thought you wore that label as a badge of honor.”

  Berronburg chuckled. “Men like us always do. I’m honestly surprised the lady still invites you. You are worse than I am.”

  Robert’s mind turned instantly to Katherine. “I’m trying to be…better.”

  “Hmmm. In truth, I had to come. There was a rumor circulating in London that Lady Gainsworth is in attendance at this party, and of course it turned out to be true. You made a good move isolating her out here. And I saw you two dancing, so I must assume your pursuit of the wager is going well.”

  Robert’s heart began to throb. This was a tricky situation to manage. If he told Berronburg to sod off, the marquess would never believe that he truly cared for Katherine. Robert’s past behavior—toward lovers in general, but Katherine specifically—would not allow it. Berronburg would pursue her for the bet. They would all pursue her.

  “It is progressing,” he said softly.

  “Progressing?” Berronburg repeated with a frown. “After ten days isolated on this estate, I would have thought you would have already bedded her and crowed to stake your claim. Are you losing your touch in your advancing years, my friend?”

  “I suppose that is a possibility,” Robert said, grinding his teeth.

  Berronburg’s face lit up. “Then that means the lady is still in play. The wager’s amount has increased tenfold since she disappeared into the country. If you cannot land her, the winner will walk away with a tidy sum in his pocket. Perhaps I should play my cards, as well.”

  Robert’s eyes went wide. Fuck it all, that was exactly what Katherine didn’t need. To be stalked across the country by panting, leering men who wanted to bed her only to win a game. That he had ever been one of them made him hate himself.

  “You assume I’m finished with the lady. I’m not by half. It isn’t about not fulfilling the terms of the bargain, my friend. It’s about fulfilling my own desires with the lady. You may tell the others that the prize has been won.”

  Berronburg’s face fell slightly. “Bollocks. I knew it was too much to hope. You wanted her, of course you would have her. It probably wasn’t even a challenge, was it? Are you going to give me any lovely details of the quest?”

  Robert shook his head. “Not tonight, my friend.”

  Not ever, and this man was no longer his friend. But there was no reason to cause a ruckus now. To draw attention where it needn’t be. When he returned to London he would ensure all talk of this shameful bet was erased from the mouths of his friends. That Katherine would never have to hear of it.

  Or know what he’d done.

  “Well, I hope you’ll talk soon. You know how everyone loves the tales of your conquests.”

  Robert glanced at the door, anxious because he knew Katherine would be coming at any moment. Not that he thought Berronburg would be so uncouth as to mention their bet to her face, but he would leer and she would be uncomfortable.

  “I see you counting the time,” the marquess chuckled. “I’ll be off and leave you to whichever lady you’ll be rutting with tonight, be it the lovely Lady Gainsworth or another. We should go to the Donville Masquerade when you’re back in Town. Catch up.”

  Robert pursed his lips. “Certainly. Goodnight, my lord.”

  “Your Grace,” Berronburg said, and slipped from the room.

  Robert let out his breath in a slow exhale. That unpleasantness was done. He didn’t feel particularly good about it. He’d allowed the marquess the impression that he’d won the bet with Katherine. And he had. But that hadn’t been on his mind for such a long time.

  He heard the door behind him close and turned. Katherine stood there. He smiled at the sight of her, his thoughts of Berronburg vanishing at her entrance. But his smile fell as he read her expression. Cold. Hard. Broken.

  And he knew in that moment that she’d heard everything the marquess had said.

  She crossed the room in three long strides, her hands shaking. She stopped in front of him, dark eyes lifted to him. “How could you? You bastard, you bastard! How could you?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Katherine had never wanted to strike someone so much in her life. To hit Robert because the pain that was bursting in her chest was too powerful to put into words. But she sucked in her breath to calm herself, remind herself she was better than that. And he did not deserve to see how deeply he had wounded her.

  His face was ashen. “Katherine,” he whispered. “Please, let me explain.”

  “Explain?” she repeated, jerking away from him and letting her gaze slide around the room. He’d been preparing the chamber for her. Laughing at her, she supposed, as he awaited Berronburg so they could crow over her foolishness. “How the hell do you think you can explain what I already knew? What I’ve known for weeks.”

  He stared at her, shaking his head. His expression was pained and confused. “You—you knew?”

  “Isabel came to me even before I was invited here and she told me what a horrible bargain you’d made over bedding me.” Her hands shook. “And I vowed I would never allow you near me.”

  He blinked. “That night at the ball when you said I didn’t care what I did to other people. You knew then, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “I did. When I was invited here, to escape you and your vile designs, I leapt at the chance.”

  “But I was here,” he whispered. “And you were here.”

  “A test, and one I suppose I failed.” She lifted her hands to her suddenly hot cheeks, letting the coldness of her fingers anchor her in some tiny way. “What an idiot I was, and how clever you were. To pretend to care as you did, to make yourself something I wanted. I-I wanted to believe you.”

  “I never made myself anything,” he burst out, taking a step toward her. “Please, let me explain.”

  She stared at him. God, but he did look stricken. Such a big part of her melted at that expression of broken guilt and deep pain. But that was all part of his charade, wasn’t it?

  “Oh yes, please do.” She folded her arms. “I would love to hear this.”

  “Back in London there were a group of…of…”

  “Ungentlemanly bastards?” she filled in for him, shocked she could be so cold and direct when what she wanted to do was fall on the carpet and weep.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “We are idiots. I am an idiot. They knew your story, and of course it generated interest from them. You already knew that—it is no surprise. When I saw you that first night you returned, I was immediately attracted to you,
Katherine. With a power that surprised even me. And I declared, in my own selfish, unthinking way, that I would have you.”

  “And you did everything in your power to make sure that happened,” she hissed. “Perhaps you knew all along that I was invited here, even if James did not. Perhaps you maneuvered yourself to be here so that you could manipulate me further.”

  “No!” he said sharply. “No, that wasn’t what happened. All the dukes found out what I’d done the moment the duchesses heard about the wager. They admonished me, none more than James. He begged me to listen to my better impulses rather than my baser desires. I came here, truly, to do as he asked and separate myself from you.”

  “But once you saw me, how could you resist such a challenge?” she snapped, hating the sharpness of her tone that revealed her emotions to this man who didn’t deserve them.

  “Yes,” he admitted after a pause that seemed to fill the room. “You were my ultimate challenge. But I swear to you, Katherine, it was never about the wager. The moment I saw you, I knew I would not be able to resist pursuit, but it was never about winning anything except for your time and your attention. I craved that. Once I touched you, everything changed. What has happened between us is real. My desire to court you is real. The fact that I care for you is real.”

  “And that is why you crowed to your friend about bedding me and winning your wager,” she whispered.

  He dropped his head, shame flowing over his handsome face with an intensity that set her back a step. This was a man who did not allow guilt. Who did not come close enough to give a damn about what anyone thought of him.

  And he practically dripped with shame.

  “I did that,” he admitted. “Out of a stupid, foolhardy notion that I could steer Berronburg away from you. I was taken aback by his being here at the ball tonight. And I was not ready for his questions. If I slipped into bad habits, it had everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. I promise you, Katherine, I was already planning how I would keep them from ever discussing you again when I return to London.”

  She shifted slightly. In some way she could understand his explanation. In some way she could forgive him for the wager she had already known about, already punished him for. In some way, she wanted to believe that what he said was true and that what they’d shared was as deep as she had believed it to be.

  But now they were on a path, one she feared would destroy them. There was no escaping it all now.

  “Do you know why I wanted to speak to you tonight?” she asked, steeling herself against all those things she wanted to believe. All those foolish things.

  “No,” he said.

  “I wanted to tell you why I hated you when I returned to Society. Why I avoided you. I know you’ve wondered. I was going to confess to you tonight because I felt I was keeping a wall between us and I did not want it there anymore after all we shared.”

  His lips parted. “You were going to tell me you knew about the bet.”

  She nodded. “That was part of it, yes. But your disgusting wager is not why I hated you, Roseford.”

  “Please don’t revert to my title.” His voice cracked. “Please don’t.”

  “I’ve hated you for three years,” she whispered. “Because you destroyed my life.”

  Robert blinked, trying to clear his mind, trying to find something in his memories that would explain those harshly spoken words. He could find none. And yet there was no mistaking that Katherine truly believed what she said. Her lips were thin with anger, her hands shaking at her sides as she stared at him in challenge.

  In hate.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it more than he had ever meant anything. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Of course you don’t,” she said. “Because you don’t remember what you did. I meant so little to you that you don’t even remember that moment when you tore my existence to shreds.”

  “I recall meeting you,” he said. “Was it Charlotte who introduced us?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Charlotte introduced us, but that was four years ago. What happened next is something else.”

  “Tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me what it is that I did to you.”

  She let out her breath slowly and paced away from him, stepping into the space at the bay window. He flashed back to the first night he’d kissed her. When they’d stood in that tiny space together, hiding from his friends, exploring…well, a future he hadn’t understood at the time.

  A future that was dissolving with every cold glare Katherine sent his way.

  “I came onto the terrace for air,” she said. “And you were there.”

  He swallowed. There was a tingle of memory when she said that. A bleary flash of Katherine’s face looking up at him, trembling in the moonlight.

  “Three years ago,” he said. “Before you were married.”

  She didn’t look at him still. “You were drunk. It was April, and I-I understand better now why that date might have meant something to you.”

  He pressed his lips together. He was always at his worst around the anniversary of his mother’s death. “What did I do?” he asked.

  “You were just…you,” she said, peeking at him at last. Some of her anger seemed tempered then. “Flirted. Teased. And then you sort of…swung in on me and I knew, even in my innocence, that you would kiss me.”

  He recoiled in horror. “Did I force that on you?”

  “No!” she said, pivoting fully and stepping toward him. “Drunk or sober, that is not who you are. I know that. I…damn it, I wanted you to kiss me. You have always been what I could not resist it seems, even before I understood fully what you were. What you could do to a woman.”

  “So we kissed,” he said, confused again.

  “No, we were interrupted.” Her breath caught and tears flooded her eyes. “By my father.”

  He staggered back a step. He knew enough about Katherine’s past, about her relationship with her father, to know what kind if damage such a thing would cause to her. “No,” he whispered.

  “He was so angry. After all, you were you, with all your reputation. Catching me almost in your arms was ammunition in his war to declare me a whore. And he did, loudly. Cruelly.”

  “Oh God.” The weight of what his worst impulses had caused crashed down on him.

  “He threatened me with marriage,” she said. “I’d been allowed freedom to find my match and he took that away. My marriage contract with Gainsworth was signed the next afternoon.”

  Robert couldn’t help his mouth dropping open in shock at that horrible revelation. “You were forced to marry Gainsworth because…because of me?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” Her face fell. “No, not entirely. My father had wanted to do this for years. You were the excuse. I was the excuse.”

  Robert jerked a hand through his hair. “If I had known,” he whispered. “If I had known, perhaps I could have done something to help you.”

  Her face twisted, and the anger that had been tempered flared back to full life as she staggered toward him. Her hands shook at her sides and she glared up at him. “But you did know, Robert. You knew because I told you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Three Years Ago

  Katherine shook as she climbed from the hack she had hired and handed over blunt to the driver. “Wait here for me and there will be extra at the end of your fare,” she whispered.

  The man looked her up and down, leering at her before he jerked his head toward the elegant townhouse they were parked before. “Why not? You’re not the first chit I’ve brought here. His Grace pays well for his tarts.”

  Katherine flinched as she walked away from the chuckling man. His implication gave her no confidence in what she was about to do. There was a very good possibility she would only make things worse for herself, especially if her father ever found out she’d snuck from her rooms in the middle of the night to come here of all places.

  But s
he was running out of time. Marriage contracts had been signed just hours ago and the Duke of Roseford was the only man who could help her. Save her. Surely when he discovered what their meeting on the terrace the night before had wrought, he would want to assist her.

  He was a gentleman, wasn’t he?

  She edged up to the door and stopped. She could knock. A butler would come. He would look at her the same way the driver had, assume she was here for the same reason. He could turn her away. Worse, the duke’s servants could talk and spread word of her actions. If it got back to her father…

  She pushed at the door and found it open, despite the late hour. Her heart began to throb as she entered the quiet house and looked around the dim foyer. Gracious, but it was a sophisticated place. All marble and expensive art and cold detachment.

  Rather like the man who lived here.

  She glanced back over her shoulder. There was still time to escape. Run away and pretend she hadn’t done this foolish thing. Hide away at home and merely accept the marriage her father had arranged with the Earl of Gainsworth. An old man! Older than her own father. A man who looked at her in ways that did not express the piety her father demanded of her.

  She shivered and pivoted to walk farther into the house. Instead she crashed headlong into something solid, something warm, something muscular. Hands closed around her upper arms in the darkness, and she jerked her face up to find herself looking into the eyes of the Duke of Roseford himself. He was as close as he had been on the terrace the night before, smelling of whisky and male heat and danger.

  Only tonight he didn’t look like he wanted to kiss her.

  “Who the hell are you?” he barked. “And what are you doing in my house?”

  His words were slightly slurred and she realized that, like the night before, he was drunk. Was that his natural state? She shook off the question.

  “I-I’m sorry, Your Grace. I realize I have done a foolhardy thing by coming here.”

  “Breaking into my house,” he growled as he pulled her through the foyer and into an open parlor door. It was brighter within, and he released her, staring. For a moment, she thought there was a flicker of recognition over his face, but then it was gone. “Do not make me ask you again, miss.”