The Desires of a Duke: Historical Romance Collection

by Darcy Burke

  Except Leo.

  And she was rather glad about that. Grateful, in fact, that she’d been spared any dealings with Leo d’Ermart—until Gilles showed up on her doorstep with Leo’s offer.

  She hadn’t expected to see Leo ever again. And now she was under the unnerving scrutiny of those sensuous light-colored eyes as they gazed at her boldly. With a certain unmistakable heat.

  Oh, she knew that look.

  That look meant trouble.

  For her.

  For any woman who was on the receiving end of one of Leo’s smoldering gazes.

  That same undercurrent of desire she’d once felt from him was still there.

  That unsettled her further. Clearly, she was right about him. His motives were merely carnal in nature. He’d been a force to contend with—utterly irresistible—seven years ago when he was younger. Less experienced at seduction.

  She certainly didn’t want to take on the now highly potent master seducer, the Duc de Mont-Marly. They’d competed against each other many times as children. But this wasn’t a childish game. Under no circumstances was she going to fall victim to this dangerously attractive man’s charms.

  Not ever again.

  Suzanne clasped her hands, then unclasped them, feeling beyond awkward, when she’d always prided herself on being confident and undaunted in any situation. Leo was rattling her, making her tense. And nervous. Dear God. She could feel another trying blush heating her cheeks, and she had no idea why she was blushing this much. She wanted to kick herself. She hadn’t blushed in the longest time. This was certainly no time to begin anew.

  And because she was under Leo’s intense regard, he had definitely noticed.

  Moreover, there was little doubt that Lucille and Rosalie had noticed, too. Their curiosity about her and the duc was mounting by the moment. There’d be no peace once he left. They were going to assail her with questions.

  She took in a quiet, fortifying breath, ignoring his wonderful scent. It was one of the many things that used to draw her to him and ultimately lured her to her ruin.

  The sooner he left, the better.

  “Your Grace…” She purposely addressed him formally rather than with the usual more familiar manner she’d always used in the past. Formality kept a distance between them, and that was exactly what she wanted. Actually, what she wanted was for Leo d’Ermart to be back at Montbrison. Or in Paris. Or any place that was far away and not threatening to add to her emotional turmoil. “I pray your visit to my humble shop isn’t due to your offer. I sent a note with your man. Did you not receive it?” she asked pointedly, holding his gaze firmly, despite her disquiet. It was more than a mere question.

  It was a purposeful reminder of her rebuke over his lascivious intentions.

  She wanted him to know she wasn’t fooled by his veiled excuse to entice her to his château. There weren’t many that would have refused him. In fact, not a single soul in the realm. And certainly no one would have dared write a note, such as the one she did, to any member of his powerful family.

  Especially to the Duc de Mont-Marly himself.

  But she wasn’t intimidated by Leo. Never had been. It was the first time she’d ever scribed an impolite letter. But the libertine deserved it—and he needed to be discouraged.

  She readied herself for his response. Let him be angry or insulted. Or both. It didn’t matter. She was sending the rake—and his deceptive ways—straight back to whence he came.

  But to her amazement, Leo didn’t comment at all.

  Instead, he turned and sauntered away and began a slow perusal of her shop, leisurely taking in its details, pulling the occasional jar off a shelf to investigate its contents.

  Appearing quite engrossed and unconcerned.

  Just how long was she going to have to watch him survey her herbs and instruments? Seeing him move about the room, all that riveting male perfection and masculine grace, was maddening.

  She glanced at Gilles, unsure what to make of his master’s reaction. Gilles shifted his weight, yet said nothing.

  Stopping at the table with the mint, Leo picked up the bowl with the crumbled herb, took a casual sniff, and set it back down.

  It was then that he finally met her gaze.

  “Yes, Suzanne, I got your note,” he said at last, his tone mild.

  That was it? That was the sum of his reaction to the contents of her note? No irritation? Or vexation?

  Nothing?

  She glanced back at Gilles. His gaze immediately shot down, and he feigned interest with something on the floor. He was well aware of what she wrote to his master. His disquiet was evident.

  But not Leo. He’d resumed his browsing of her shop with a casual comfort.

  “And?” she prompted, feeling ruffled, her nerves taut as her words to him still hung in the air. Unanswered. For goodness sake, she’d indelicately told him where to stick his offer. Wasn’t he going to say something about it?

  He stopped, having finished his walk of the perimeter of the room. “And, I’d like a private word with you to discuss your note.”

  Chapter 3

  Leo dismissed his men with a simple nod. They left promptly, Gilles leading the way to join the others outside.

  The door closed quietly behind them.

  After having completely resigned himself to never seeing her again, Leo marveled at the fact that he was mere feet from his one and only siren.

  And he was itching to be alone with her.

  Unable to stop himself, he devoured the vision she made. Dieu, she was so damned beautiful…

  Even clothed in that plain dress and worn woolen shawl.

  Her dark curly hair looked as silky as ever. He’d never forgotten the feel of those cool, luscious locks brushing against his skin. Or how soft they’d felt against his face as he buried it in the side of her neck and held her close.

  And then there was that perfect mouth… He’d spent hours in oral worship of that mouth—and the rest of her edible little form. She hadn’t graced him with one of her contagious smiles. He’d yet to see that little dimple that always appeared at the corner of her mouth whenever she grinned. Or laughed. Christ, how he missed that. He hadn’t realized just how much until this very moment.

  By God, he was going to coax a smile from her just so he could see her face light up once more.

  Growing up, she’d always been exceptionally pretty, her delightfully unorthodox ways adding to her charm. Yet, by the time she was a grown woman, she was so alluring she knocked him back on his heels. On sight.

  Before, and now.

  Every fiber of his being was rioting for her. His blood rushed through his body, white-hot. And his heart—that shriveled-up black thing—had swollen to life with emotion the moment he’d set eyes on her again.

  His prick wasn’t making the situation any easier. Not while the memory of those delicious moans and adorable little whimpers she’d made as he rode her to ecstasy and back flooded his mind.

  And certainly not while she’d moved her gaze over his body in that tactile little perusal she had just given him.

  He knew that look.

  That look meant trouble.

  For him.

  Though he was immensely glad there was a level of interest on her part, something he would most definitely build on, this was a matter that required finesse and a slow, patient approach. When, at the moment, she was inspiring anything but patience in him.

  He was so fucking hard, he wanted to howl.

  Worse, the urge to march across the shop, tilt her head back with a tender tug of that beautiful hair, and claim her mouth was barely tamable—to hell with their little audience.

  He’d had to purposely focus on the items in her shop, using the time and distraction to collect himself.

  He’d spent the last seven years combing the realm, looking for another Suzanne Matchet.

  There wasn’t a single female who did what she did to him.

  As usual, with no effort on her part whatsoever
, she’d leveled him with the very same mind-bending desire and soft sentiments she alone incited.

  Merde, if he had any good sense at all, he’d simply offer the apology he owed her for the hurt he’d caused her, turn, and leave—completely abandon this notion of revisiting the past. Any female who had this kind of impact on a man was far too dangerous to pursue.

  But wild horses couldn’t drag him from the room.

  He’d combat the justifiable guardedness she felt—no matter how much it bothered him to see it. Especially when they’d once been so close. He’d eventually coax that stiffness from her delicate shoulders. He wasn’t about to abandon her with Christmas approaching. Nor was he walking away from this miraculous opportunity to attend to something that had long been denied and left unfinished in his life.

  You traveled all the way from Montbrison to see if you’d still feel that intense pull to her.

  Well, he had his answer. It was definitely there.

  Stronger than ever.

  “Your Grace…” She lifted her chin a notch. “My note was rather plain. I don’t see what there is to discuss.”

  He smiled at the mention of that rather colorful note. “That it was, chère.”

  Her frown was immediate. Merde. She’d taken exception to his endearment. If he hadn’t been so enthralled by her presence, he wouldn’t have made the blunder. Endearments at this point sounded empty, especially when she considered him to be a scoundrel of the highest order.

  Since her, he’d kept his affairs brief, impersonal, and recreational over the years. He wanted something different with Suzanne. Something far more authentic. Raw. Real. He wanted her complete surrender. Heart. Body. And soul. He’d had enough empty encounters to last a lifetime. And he wanted to take away all the pain he’d caused this woman.

  He was going to have to be more careful with his word choices.

  She gave a sharp sigh. Leo knew she was about to ask him to take his leave.

  “Allow me a few minutes of your time,” he said, stemming her words. He kept his tone calm and cajoling. “I’ve traveled a long way to speak to you. I would very much appreciate a private word.”

  “Come, Lucille. We should retire to the back room,” said one of the older women.

  He couldn’t agree more. Bloody hell, yes. Leave. Now!

  The scowl Lucille gave her companion said it all. Much to his frustration, he could see she harbored no desire to depart from the room.

  Suzanne raised her hand, discouraging any retreat. “That isn’t necessary, Rosalie.” Then to him, she added, “We’re quite busy, I’m afraid. We have a number of ointments and elixirs to prepare. I don’t have time to spare.”

  He wasn’t surprised by her answer. Nor was he deterred.

  “Very well, then. I shall tell you what I came to say with our audience present. I came here for three reasons.”

  Four, actually—but he wasn’t going to apologize for his transgressions in front of the two women in the room. It deserved a private moment.

  “First, I came to offer you my sympathies in person. Regrettably, I’ve only recently learned of your father’s passing.” Though they meant well, it vexed him that his family hadn’t mentioned something as monumental as Richard Matchet’s death to him. The subject of Suzanne and her father was rarely—if ever—spoken about in front of Leo once they’d left Montbrison. A habit his siblings had formed on their own. “There are few men like your father. He graced this earth with his intellect and his gift of medicine. He left a lasting impression on all those fortunate enough to know him,” he said about a man who deserved more than a handful of words.

  That garnered soft sobs from both of the older women in the room. Stock-still, Suzanne merely listened with unshed tears glistening in her beautiful eyes.

  Leo selected his next words with care, knowing they touched upon the delicate subject of their parting. “Though he left Montbrison, resigning his post, he never once abandoned my family. A few weeks later, on the night Aurore fell gravely ill, burning with fever, he didn’t hesitate to rush to her aid and heal her.” A slight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I still recall his arrival late at night, with a large pouch of his usual rose hips in hand.”

  She looked down for a moment and swallowed hard. When she finally met his gaze, she lifted a hand to her chest and absently rubbed it lightly over her heart. As though she were trying to soothe away an ache inside.

  It broke his heart to see it.

  He’d felt his own profound sorrow when he’d learned about her father’s death. He could only imagine the grief she harbored at the loss of her beloved sire.

  Merde. He wanted to cross the room so badly, draw her close, and comfort her. Always strong and brave, she didn’t succumb to tears easily. In fact, he’d only ever seen it once, when they were young children and she’d fallen and horribly bloodied her knee racing with him and his brothers across the gardens at Montbrison. Even then, she’d held back the tears until his brothers were gone, shedding them before Leo alone. She’d trusted him.

  Up until the day he destroyed her trust.

  “Your father had and will always have the admiration and regard of my entire family. Myself included.” It was something he wanted her to know, lest she had any doubts. Leo had held Richard Matchet in high esteem his entire life. He was a decent man to the core, unlike others Leo knew. The realm bowed to Leo’s every whim, eager to align themselves with the riches, power, and influence of the d’Ermart family.

  Yet he utterly despised it, hating all the social maneuvering and backstabbing at court and in the salons of Paris just to vie for his favor.

  “Thank you…” she said softly. “Your kind words about my father are much appreciated. I trust you received our sympathies for your father’s passing.”

  Leo’s father had died months after Leo’s marriage to Constance. He’d never had the enviable bond with his father that Suzanne had shared with Richard.

  “I did. Thank you.” He’d responded to Richard’s letter of condolences with a note of thanks that, clearly, Richard had never shared with his daughter. As the loving parent Richard was, it appeared he’d only mentioned Leo to Suzanne when he absolutely had to, no doubt to spare her further upset.

  “Good.” She gave a nod. “You’re welcome.”

  Dieu. She couldn’t look more uncomfortable. He knew it would take time before she’d be relaxed in his presence and learn to trust him again, but her body was as rigid as the wooden shelves in her shop. Dismiss our audience, beautiful Suzanne. Let me coax away that tension between us…

  There was a shadow of sadness in her eyes he knew had to do with her father’s passing. Leo wanted to be the man in her life now. The one she turned to whenever she needed solace.

  “I… Well… I really must return to my work now. Thank you again. If you’ll excuse me…”

  She was pulling further away. Not surprising in the least. Yet, the more she pulled away, the more determined he was to conquer the distance.

  “You’re most welcome, but I have more to say. The second reason I’m here is to convince you to come back with me to Montbrison. There is no reason for Richard Matchet’s only daughter to be alone at Christmas, her charming note notwithstanding. Especially when she is so very welcome at the d’Ermart château.”

  Rosalie poked Lucille in the ribs. “Did you hear that, sister? She’s so very welcome.”

  “Shhh!” Lucille shot back. The woman was so singularly focused on their conversation, Leo was sure that the entire town could have burned down around her without her noticing.

  “I would very much like to surprise Elisabeth and Aurore each with a gift of your wonderful perfume,” he said truthfully. “I know they’d be delighted to receive it. They would be even more delighted by your company during the festive season. As would I.” He smiled.

  “Really?” That charming little crinkle formed as she furrowed her brow. “I have a question for you, Your Grace.”

  “Oh? And what would th
at be?”

  “Are you in possession of a single scruple?” She crossed her arms. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that you have a wife? Have you no regard for her at all? You would have us both under the same roof after we had once—” She stopped abruptly. Then shot a glance at her assistants, another adorable blush coloring her cheeks.

  Rosalie and Lucille were caught leaning sharply to the right, trying to get physically closer so as not to miss a single word without actually moving from their spot.

  They immediately righted themselves.

  Leo crossed his arms, mimicking Suzanne’s pose. “That’s three questions,” he pointed out, still smiling.

  Just being near her leavened his mood. Over time, he’d become humorless and brooding. And at the moment, he felt lighthearted for the first time in years.

  “To answer your questions, I’m quite certain I possess some scruples.” He thought for a moment and amended his statement. “Well, at the very least one or two.” He lowered his arms and added more seriously, “And as for my wife, she is dead, Suzanne. It seems you are one of the few in the realm who has not heard of her demise.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh… I-I… No. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…”

  He sauntered toward her, keeping his approach to a slow, casual stride so that she wouldn’t back away from him. He’d reached his limit. He couldn’t stand being in the same room and remaining on the other side of it. He had to get closer.

  Leo stopped an arm’s length from her.

  At this proximity, he could detect her favorite jasmine-scented soap, which she made and used. His cock twitched in response. That same scent on any other woman would have had little effect on him. But on this woman, emanating from her skin, it dazzled his senses.