My Divinely Decadent Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Anna sloshed the water around so the bath salts would dissolve. She assisted her lady into the hot water. Cassandra thought it the most welcome sensation in the world—perhaps the universe.

  The servant sponged her back with a scented soap. Cassandra moved forward in the hammered copper tub. If she weren’t careful, she could fall asleep in its restorative waters. They chatted amiably about curatives. Tea made from fresh mint leaves was considered such.

  “Shall I bring you a tea tray, your Grace?”

  “Yes, I might need it as a remedy so I don’t collapse while we dance. These past three days would tax anyone.” Yet, she graced her servant with a sweet smile.

  The maid quickly arrived with the tea and left it on a table. “I will return soon.”

  Cassandra leaned into the back of the tub, her head rested on the rim, chin up, eyes closed, and her breaths soft.

  The door opened and with her eyes still shut, “Anna, I’m much too comfortable to move a muscle.”

  A masculine voice answered. “Even for me, Cassandra?”

  Her eyes flashed open, her hands crossed her breasts, “Gordon, why are you here?”

  His smile was lascivious.

  Her senses raced, tumbled, and flipped.

  “I came to let you know I’d arrived and would be with you shortly. How pleasant I’ve had the opportunity to view you thusly.”

  Gordon went to a chair beside the tub, stuck his hand in the water. “It grows tepid. Would you like me to join you? I will warm you both.” His eyes held a naughty look, his voice jocular.

  Her mind blurred at visions of him prancing in the water. Sweet Heaven and the Saints. Cassandra was about to rise, thought better of it, and plopped herself back into the safety of the tub’s contents and happily splashed him with deliberate hand sweeps.

  “So you want to play? I can undress here.”

  His eyes never left her body and she decided to brazen it out. “If you did, we might be late for the ball. Would your King forgive your tardiness?”

  “Indeed, if I told him why he might want to have us use his personal tub. He does have these personal quirks for sexual deviations. I do not want to share you with any man,” he growled. “Ever.”

  She gripped the side rims of the tub. “Sexual deviations? Is that another topic I should read about, Gordon?”

  He arose and removed his jacket and threw it on her bed. “I’m not sure how curious I want you to become. You enjoy yourself too much in such education.”

  There was no doubt about his intent. “Has your back been rubbed?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes never left his.

  “What about other parts of your body? Do you require assistance?” He leaned in to kiss her. It was a welcomed gesture to her tired body and soul—suddenly rejuvenated.

  While he might fulfill a physical desire, her heart could be torn apart.

  “This is untoward, my duke. Perhaps at another time and another place, it might offer entertainment for us both. With your mother, the children, and servants about, I would request you desist.” Yet, her smile conveyed a different message.

  The teapot invited his interest. “What kind is it?”

  “Something different, I’m told. Fresh mint,” she whispered. “Why not pour me some?”

  He did so with great aplomb and handed her the dainty porcelain cup. “Those lips were meant for better use than a teacup, Cassandra. Had I known I would find you dishabille, I could have been persuaded to come home sooner.”

  “A pity you didn’t, Gordon. We could’ve put the time to good use.”

  Love flowed within her like warm honey. Our father who art in heaven.

  “Then you denied us both. Those are words of a hussy.” Her eyes raked him. “What time is it?”

  “Time for me to prepare for this evening.” He turned his back. Her heart leaped at the sight.

  Cassandra called, “Gordon, will you kindly take the teacup? It might slip out of my hand.”

  She handed it to him.

  “Is there anything else you require?”

  She arose, turned her naked backside to him, and pointed to a garment on a chair. “If you would but give me my wrapper?”

  “Good God, you are lovely as an alabaster statue.” The sly smile on his face as he walked to the chair on the other side of the tub pleased her. She accepted the garment. With an intentionally wicked smile, she placed the fabric against her wet body, and it clung like a second skin.

  “I’d like to rip that off your curvaceous body.”

  “Truly?” she flirted.

  “Either you’ve read my library books, or you’ve availed yourself of courtesan advice. Which is correct?”

  “Neither, Gordon. I did ask my cousin about a few things. It was educational.”

  “I shall remember to thank her for this visual pleasure.”

  She cinched her belt loosely, feet and legs in the cool water, the top of her wrapper displayed her ample bosom. “If you’d but help me out, Gordon, I would relieve you of your services.”

  It surprised her how quickly he came to her. With one hand, he helped her out. With the other, he slapped her backside. “Such a lovely derriere. Now I do have to go, Cassandra, or we will never attend the ball.” Gordon walked to the door, opened it, turned, took another look at his wife, spoke in a low raspy voice, “I will make you pay dearly for your denial of me…in ways both of us could never imagine.” He left. The hungry expression on his face pleased her no end.

  In a moment of exquisite anticipation. Cassandra had a singular smile. Samantha was right to apprise her of some of the more flirtatious techniques. She would love her cousin forever and ever, though she doubted she could ever love her more than she did at this moment. An uneasy rampant fire burned within her. It needed—him to quell the flames. He had created not only an eager companion but a sensual lover.

  Beware, my husband. We have a date with destiny.

  ****

  At the King’s ball, Gordon and his wife entered the palatial estate and were greeted appropriately. Gordon whispered to the King, “Your Majesty, I would limit my games tonight, if you don’t mind. My bride demands much of me, and I don’t have my wits about me.”

  “You rogue, I think that would be the time to play Vingt-et-un with me. However, I was young once and shan’t expect you. Attend to your lady, passion flees quickly.”

  “Majesty,” he bowed with a flourish, “I am in your debt.”

  Of course, his conversation with his King was exaggerated, but truth be told, he didn’t want to be away from his wife with all the hungry hounds at her door.

  When they walked into the ballroom, the room quieted. The stares and admiration of male eyes at her tall blonde beauty caused him to regret the selection of her sensual gown she wore. There were words he dared not use to describe the effect. Voluptuous, statuesque, incomparable—came to mind and would suffice as he escorted his wife to her cousin.

  He whispered, “Duchess, I would like to commend you on your advice to Cassandra. I’m the happiest man in all Christendom. May I request a boon?”

  “Yes. You rogue, you may. How may I accommodate you?”

  “Help me not let this wonderful creature out of my sight. She is just too magnificent and though I’m not worthy, I would kill anyone who dared to compromise her. We both know she is such an innocent.”

  “Gordon, I think I could kiss you for that…with my husband’s permission. You have an ally in me, always remember. You don’t deserve her, but you’ve made her happy.”

  “Yes. True.” I fear Cupid’s arrow sank deep into my heart and soul.

  Cassandra was involved in conversation with Samantha’s husband, Ravensmere, so she wasn’t privy to the conversation.

  All eyes were upon his wife. In a rouge gown, she commanded attention. Her slim waist invited arms to encircle it. Her low décolleté gown invited hands to touch her breasts. Her smile invited lips to kiss them. He would need an English army to fight them off. If there wer
e other ways to keep these men away from her, and his wife glued to him, he would find them. When did he become so besotted?

  “Dear Cassandra, I do believe the first dance is mine.” When he saw the look of adoration in her eyes, he melted.

  “I’m no longer tired, Gordon. Must have been the long soak in the tub.”

  “Without me in it,” he added, gruffly.

  “Next time. There is always a next time.” Her smile was generous.

  The dance ended all too soon for him, forced to surrender her to another man, but his scowl sent a strong message. He watched as a hawk would its prey.

  When the next dance concluded, Gordon came to Cassandra and requested her presence on the balcony. Nostalgia occupied his thoughts as to how they progressed along this journey, and he wanted to demonstrate this new change—to let her know he was a different man—all because of her.

  They sauntered to the balcony, husband and wife, no longer concerned with propriety.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Cassandra, I didn’t have the opportunity to speak about my trip to London and my work in Parliament. With Ravensmere’s recommendation, I’ve been invited to work on Tariff legislation related to Corn Laws.”

  “What do you know about them?” she asked in interest.

  He held her hand and laughed. “Not very much. As I attend these sessions, I will learn more about what needs to be done not only in relation to my own estates, but also to our sugar production in Barbados. I have a bundle of papers to review. Ravensmere may mentor me, but I need to demonstrate proficiency to myself.” Whoever would’ve thought he would state such thoughts—and act on them.

  “It’s what I care most about with you, Gordon. Your independent nature that defies interpretation by any other. You are your own man. You can set your mind to a goal and achieve it. Your philosophy of power is hyphenated. Fight for what you believe in with every ounce of blood.”

  “I’ve been away too long from Parliament. It could take months, perhaps years. I fear I might fail.”

  “Posh, Gordon, conquer your inhibitions. Take all the energy that dwells within you and use it to your betterment. Failure is not a crime. Vulnerability shows strength. It’s over-confidence that can be a weakness.”

  “When did you become so smart?”

  “Must’ve been all the books I’ve read, husband.” She adjusted the skew of his formal white tie. “There now, that’s better.”

  He looked up at the starry skies and the crescent moon. “I want to reach for something greater than myself. It’s hard for me to explain.” He brought her to his arms and settled her in his embrace. “Enough talk. Kiss me, Cassandra. There’s a thousand stars above us. Two of them have our names on them.”

  “Where?” she asked, coyly and looked up at the firmament.

  Gordon pointed to two of them close to each other. He leaned down, his arms at her back, and kissed her hungrily on the lips. The kiss she returned held a passion that took his breath away. “You have changed,” he said. “I cannot place my finger on it, but you smile a good part of the time.”

  Not sure why, it was important for him to know she held happiness in her current position. He arched an eyebrow at the use of the word position. He sounded more like an employer than a husband. While he might have thought that way once, it was a circumstance he no longer espoused. In her own quiet way, she’d gotten under his skin, and invaded his veins like a virus. This time, though, the virus was good, he chuckled, not like the malaria of the island. His thoughts constantly revolved about her, and subsequently, his mother, the children, his dog, and the puppies. Perhaps Tomas was correct. Domestication had conquered him. Not so bad at all, for such a rogue.

  “Are you happy with me?” Her answer would hold importance for him. It amazed him that he valued her opinion these days. In so many small ways, he attempted to let her know how important she’d become. Surely she could see this. What amazed him more was the fact that he had no interest in other women, only his eager wife.

  She withdrew from him a pace or two. “In truth, Gordon, most of the time I am. The scope of my duties overwhelmed me at first. You make me feel safe and protected.”

  He placed one knuckle under her chin. “Then I have accomplished one of your goals? Doesn’t that please you?”

  Angel eyes looked up at him. “You’ve taught me a lesson, and it’s to be careful what I wish for. Wishes do come true. For every wish, there’s a consequence.”

  “How so?” He used his knuckles to trace her lips and then her cheeks.

  “There are times when things most cherished have a high cost. And not necessarily do I speak of money. Sentimentality, pride, humiliation, anxiety, security, pain—all can apply.”

  He answered simply, “Anything worth having is worth the wait regardless of the cost.”

  She turned away toward the balustrade. “I don’t know how high I can pay.”

  “Cassandra, you do not make sense. In one way, you say you feel happy and protected. In another way, you question your own motives. Why not stay content?” Hadn’t he asked himself these very same questions not so long ago?

  Gordon went to Cassandra, embraced her, leaned in and kissed her again. This time he found her plump lips. His tongue wrapped around hers. He withdrew a whisper breath away, “You were meant to be kissed many times by a man like me.”

  “You know I love your kisses. I…love everything you do to me.” The flush of her cheeks told a story. “And,” she hesitated, “I always want more. Does this desire ever abate? Silly me, I don’t know of what I speak. Perhaps we should go inside?” Her voice was a plea.

  “If desire abated, we might lose the marvelous sensations that fever us.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible, Gordon. I could never get enough of you. I’m ashamed to admit it.”

  “There should be no shame that you desire your husband.”

  “Sometimes I feel you might feel the desire will be a leg shackle,” she answered.

  “It’s only one if I think it so. I certainly don’t have that thought, Cassandra.”

  An awkward moment hung in silence. “Is your next dance taken?”

  “No, I needed respite.” She paused. “I swear, Gordon, your smile could curdle cream with its molted heat.”

  He laughed uproariously. “I didn’t know you could measure the temperature that high.”

  Gordon reached for her. “I wish to have a private dance with my wife out here. Shall we?”

  He clutched her to him so there was no space between their bodies, and they waltzed to slow music, his head nestled on her hair. Her head rested on his shoulder. It was just the two of them, locked in each other’s arms, a universe away. They swayed in front of the double French doors. The outside world faded—didn’t exist.

  The music stopped.

  “To whom do I give you?” he asked, gruffly.

  “I’m not sure of his name. It’s the gentleman who speaks with my cousins.”

  He gazed toward where she directed his attention. He knew the gentleman well, a man not to be trusted.

  “His name is Viscount Edgerton. I’ll keep my eye on you.”

  “Do you suggest you don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t trust him with my treasure.” That quieted her.

  He stood back and watched as they danced. While a smile graced her face, her expression appeared feigned. The ordeal caused him undue stress as men vied for her attention. His head mulled as if he could read the men’s minds. Dammit. I’ll kill them for their thoughts.

  It couldn’t be love. Rakes never fell in love. Yet she’d ruined him for any other woman. The thought of her in her dampened wrapper in the tub and her delectable posterior enticed him further. For a moment, he chuckled.

  He waited and was pleased to see the King approach. “Althorn, I wish to speak to you.”

  “Of course, Majesty, shall we convene in a private parlor?”

  “Yes, bring your wife.”

  That worried
him. I will not share her if you ask, Majesty. A treasonous thought if ever there was one.

  The dance ended and Cassandra was returned to his side.

  “My dear, we’ve been summoned to meet with the King. Follow my lead. Stay very close.”

  She nodded and they went to a circular private drawing room.

  “Sit, sit,” his Majesty commanded. “I wish to ask a question of the both of you. First, my dear subject, you have put every woman to shame this evening.” He turned to the duke. “You are a fortunate rascal. However, I digress.”

  They sat together on a settee, and while near each other, they were appropriately apart, but not by much.

  “First, dear lady, when you came to my attention, I made inquiries. My staff advised me you were once engaged to Harold Viscount Fox.”

  Cassandra looked to her husband with a worrisome look on her face. The duke nodded. He tightened his eyes and waited for the shoe to drop.

  “Yes,” she answered in a low voice. “The Viscount said you had better plans for him.” Cassandra tugged at her husband’s sleeve.

  “Forgive me, but I’m not aware of such plans,” said the royal.

  The duke intervened and informed him of how he met Cassandra and overheard Viscount Fox break their engagement ten days before the wedding at the request of the King.

  The King shook his head, cupped his right hand to his chin. “Not quite so. Fox’s father came to me and asked for intervention. I refused. I can only believe the earl manufactured a story for his son. I would like you to know I refused to sanction the betrothal.”

  Cassandra reached for her husband’s hand.

  “The woman in question refused to marry him and I supported her cause,” the King said. “I’m not sure if he found someone to marry as yet.”

  “Your Majesty, it’s of no consequence now. My husband and I are well suited to each other. We can only thank you for your concern. In many ways there is retribution and satisfaction that justice was served.” She turned to her husband.

  “Majesty, what my wife says is true. Cassandra and I are kindred souls and indebted to you. I do not wish to malign Viscount Fox, but in a great way, he allowed me the glorious opportunity to meet my future wife.”