Dukes Are Forever

by Bec McMaster

  "Of course I have. She was bloody injured—"

  Gemma leveled a stern look upon him. "If I were a young woman and my husband was cooing over me the way you have been, I might be forgiven for misreading the situation."

  "There is nothing to misread."

  "Does Adele know that?"

  Malloryn paused.

  "I saw the way she looked at you when she hugged you." Gemma's mouth pressed into a thin line. "She has feelings for you."

  "She was overcome in the moment. Adele knows the rules. She's hardly about to fall for me."

  Gemma shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. "She is also a young woman married to a powerful man who's recently been playing seductive games with her."

  "That ended the second she realized the truth."

  "Yes, but who ended it?"

  He opened his mouth. Then closed it. I did.

  Gemma read the answer in his eyes. "Malloryn, I like your wife. And once upon a time, it amused me to see how easily she could get beneath your skin. No woman has ever riled you the way she has. I thought there might have been something there on your behalf—"

  "You hoped."

  "I hope," she replied boldly, staring him in the eyes. "But if there is not, then you need to make that very clear to Adele. Because I don't want to see you break her heart."

  I have no intentions of hurting her.

  "Are you finished?"

  Gemma tipped her chin up. Only she could get away with speaking to him thusly. "I think I've said what needs to be said."

  "Then perhaps we can focus on what hasn't been said: What happened with Mowbray?"

  "I was too late. He was dead by the time I got to him. Either Dido or Jelena must have met with him, and Sir George was the distraction."

  "So we have nothing."

  "Mowbray did manage to confirm it has something to do with the automatons. He said London will burn."

  "Damn it."

  Gemma watched him with considering eyes. "Your ploy with Devoncourt may yet bear fruit."

  "Despite the fact you disapproved of it?"

  "I never disapproved of it. I disapprove of the way you handled it without informing me. Here are Adele's pearls," she said, handing over a bloody handkerchief knotted around a bulging lump. Turning with a flounce, she grabbed a fistful of her skirts. "Perhaps you can return them when you remind her there's nothing going on between the two of you."

  He clutched the bloody things.

  Adele wasn't the only one who needed the reminder.

  "Here," Malloryn murmured, holding open the door to his bedchamber after Adele had obediently drank her tea. "You can stay with me again tonight. Just let me know if I need to remove my boots."

  Adele slipped inside. "You're never going to let me forget that night, are you?"

  "Considering the sad state of my boots... no."

  Adele tried to smile, but she was simply too tired. Ava had tended to her wounds, and Malloryn assured her she wouldn't scar—he'd managed to swipe his saliva across her cheek—though she'd most likely be missing a piece of her earlobe.

  His room at the manor was cold, crisp, and austere in its elegance. You couldn't enter the bloody place without being reminded that you were dealing with His Grace, the Duke of Malloryn. The enormous four-poster bed positively loomed, and she was quite grateful he'd never consummated their marriage in the monstrosity.

  But this was... nice.

  She'd been too ill the other morning to truly take note.

  A handsome quilt stretched across the foot of the bed, and there were papers strewn across the small writing desk in the corner, as if he'd been working upon something when he'd been called away. Books were piled haphazardly on the side table, scraps of paper marking several spots in each. He liked to read. Even at their house, he was usually in the library at all hours.

  Adele took a hesitant step forward, her slippers sinking into the soft rug. It felt like she was taking a peek inside the mind of Auvry Cavill, and not merely the Duke of Malloryn. She'd never realized until now that there were two of them.

  A copper bathtub stood in the corner, filled with steaming water that smelled like lavender. Herbert, she presumed. The butler seemed to cluck over everyone in the house as if they were his personal tribe of ducklings, and had extended the notion to her, it seemed.

  Malloryn turned her head from side to side, examining the purple bruises welting her throat. "Society's going to think I did this to you." His lips thinned as if he'd tasted something unpleasant.

  They wouldn't be the first bruises she'd had to cover. "You'd be surprised. Diamond chokers hide all manner of sins. Nobody will suspect anything untoward."

  He helped undo the buttons down her spine as Adele stood with her head tilted forward.

  "You looked beautiful tonight," he murmured. "You understand I couldn't say it? I couldn't let the world know."

  "You mean Balfour?"

  "Yes." Malloryn eased the silk down over her hips, and it pooled around her ankles. He knelt behind her, starting on the tapes of her petticoat and the mesh cage of her bustle. "It's safer if he doesn't know how far our truce extends."

  Adele stepped out of the mess of petticoats and froth of skirts. "I understand."

  All she wore was her corset and chemise.

  Malloryn's gaze dipped, caressing her figure with a heated look before he started on the strings to her corset. "That being said, I don't wish to give you the wrong impression. You are beautiful, but what lies between us cannot be pursued."

  Adele stilled. The discrepancy between the look in his eyes and the words on his lips threw her for a second. "Ah. So even in the privacy of your bedchamber, nothing more is to come of this."

  "Correct."

  "He's not peering through every window, Malloryn. He's not hiding under the bed."

  The next tug came a little sharper. "Maybe what I'm talking about has nothing to do with Balfour. I cannot give you more than I am."

  Of course. "You think your skills in bed will turn my head?" What was it he'd said? "It's just a kiss, Malloryn. Just a moment of passion."

  "I think this is becoming dangerously complicated between us."

  "And you don't want any further complications."

  The silence thickened, broken only by the whisper of his hands on the silk of her corset. "It wouldn't be wise," he finally said.

  Adele closed her eyes. She shouldn't have expected anything else. Malloryn didn't like messy situations, or complex emotions. Push him, Lord Barrons had said, but she was so tired and her heart felt a little bruised by his declaration.

  "I appreciate your straightforwardness," she whispered.

  It didn't mean she wasn't going to torture him with the promise of everything he'd denied.

  Once the strings were undone, he turned away. "I assume you can manage from here."

  Adele removed the rest of her undergarments and stepped into the bath, sinking up to her shoulders in the bubbles with a soft groan. Various aches and bruises she hadn't recognized began to make themselves known.

  He returned with a dripping piece of linen that was gloriously cool. "I sent Herbert to chip some ice."

  The steam from the bath would make short work of the ice, but Adele took it and held it gently to her hot ear. The wound itself had healed, courtesy of his saliva, but the flesh sill throbbed.

  Despite his words, he'd been tender with her tonight. It was confusing.

  "Tell me something," she murmured. "You seem remarkably insistent upon avoiding affairs of the heart. Why?"

  Malloryn sank into the chair near the bath, clasping both hands between his knees. "I wasn't aware we were on such intimate terms, to be speaking of our pasts."

  Every time she thought he would let her in, he set a wall between them.

  She flicked water at him. "I nearly died tonight."

  "I was trying to keep you out of this mess," he pointed out. "As I recall, you insisted. Don't blame me, and don't try to use it t
o appeal to my gentler nature."

  "I wouldn't. You have none. And considering what you did to me on your desk the other day, I'd have thought us quite intimate enough for such revelations."

  His stare turned intense, and though it remained locked on her face, she couldn't help feeling particularly naked in that moment.

  Then he closed his eyes and laughed under his breath. "You always have to challenge me."

  "Driving you crazy is one of my favorite pastimes."

  "I've noticed."

  "And here I thought ignoring me was your favorite pastime," she said, with a careless shrug that belied the hurt inside.

  He sensed it in some way. He always did. "How could I ignore you? Every time I went to read one of my bloody books, you'd moved the bookmark to another page. Your perfume was on my favorite chair. There were crumbs on my desk, and someone had tried to pick the lock on its drawer."

  "You noticed."

  A smile escaped her.

  "Falling asleep in my library chair with your gown slipping from your shoulder. Stealing one of my favorite shirts and wearing it about your rooms en dishabille." Malloryn leaned closer. "Kissing strange men who worked for my enemy. Yes, I noticed."

  "If I'd known that would have bothered you, I'd have kissed one many months ago," she admitted, then saw his face. "Only a kiss. And only to capture your attention."

  "It didn't bother me."

  Adele flicked more water at him. "And yet, you keep mentioning it. I think someone is lying, but the question is, is he lying to me? Or himself?"

  His eyes narrowed. "You have some sort of obsession with torturing me, I swear. Why?"

  Adele slicked soap down her arms in a sudden nervous flurry. "Possibly for the same reason you keep mentioning that kiss. As if your mouth has been chaste since we married."

  Stillness radiated through him. For a second, she thought he wasn't going to reply. "Technically... it has."

  Adele blinked. "You expect me to believe you haven't touched another woman since our wedding day?"

  "I haven't, no."

  "It was a well known fact the baroness was your lover," she murmured, dipping her gaze to her legs as she focused on slicking soap along them. "And from what I can gather, she worked for you here in the same capacity Gemma does now."

  "Isabella was a friend, though yes, we were intimate. I called off our arrangement before the wedding," he murmured, hands braced together between his thighs. "It wasn't fair to her, and…."

  It clearly made him uncomfortable to speak of such things, but she couldn't hide the rush of blood through her veins. He'd been chaste since their wedding. It didn't mean anything, and yet, she wanted to suddenly capture his hair in her fist and drag his mouth down to hers.

  "And?"

  "I was trying to keep her safe. Balfour has a habit of striking at those closest to me. He wants me to suffer. I'd hoped—" A shake of his head. "I was wrong. She paid for it with her life." His voice roughened. "They all pay for it with their lives."

  Suddenly, some of the mysterious puzzle pieces of what drove Malloryn began to fit themselves together. He'd lost Catherine Tate, and now the baroness. It made sense he'd wall himself away where nobody could ever reach him.

  It wasn't that Malloryn didn't care.

  He cared too much.

  And he thought he couldn't afford to.

  Perhaps Barrons had been right.

  Perhaps Malloryn held her at arm's length because he was trying to protect her.

  The revelation left her breathless. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bought it up."

  "It's fine. Now it's your turn," he murmured.

  "My turn?"

  "To share a secret." His eyes glittered as he reached for the washcloth and slowly lathered it. "Lean forward."

  Adele complied, and the hot flannel slid across her back. "What sort of secret?"

  "Tell me why you can't resist tormenting me."

  Adele rested her chin on her knees sleepily. Most of the ice had melted, so she cast the cloth aside. "I always knew you hated me for trapping you—"

  "I didn't hate you."

  A laugh escaped her. "I thought we were to speak only the truth tonight?"

  "I didn't hate you," he repeated.

  Slowly, she turned her head.

  Their eyes met.

  "I disliked the way you manipulated me that night. There's nothing I despise more than being twisted into a situation beyond my control, but the truth is, there are ways I could have managed our engagement so it ended."

  A rush of breath escaped her. "Then why did you...?"

  "Marry you?" Dark lashes shuttered his eyes. "Because I realized you suited my purposes. It was expected that I would marry at some point, but I've never wanted a wife. The lifestyle I lead... it doesn't lend itself to being a husband. I have no time for a wife. And I did not wish to give some young woman the wrong impression—that ours would be any sort of match beyond contractual. I gave my heart once, Adele. There is nothing left for another woman."

  "And here I was," she whispered, understanding exactly what he meant. "A wife who would be content to accept a match in name only. Someone who would make no demands of you, nor one who... who wanted your heart."

  "Exactly."

  She felt a little ill.

  Because while she might have portrayed such an impression to the world, it wasn't what she wanted at all.

  Water dripped over her shoulders as Malloryn continued washing her back. "And so you provoke me because...?"

  Because I want you to look at me. Because you frustrate me. Because you attract me. Because there's a part of me that wants to know what it feels like to wake in your arms.

  Because I want what Lena has.

  She rested her chin on her knees, closing her eyes briefly. God, what a mess. How was she to obfuscate the truth now?

  "My father ignored me all my life," she admitted. "I've always been his greatest possession, but he never truly valued me for me. But you.... You were distant and cool, but occasionally I would see your eyes light up when we sparred. And it sounds ridiculous, but you gave as good as you got, and sometimes you'd almost smile at something I said and it felt like a compliment."

  "You enjoyed torturing me."

  "I hate it when you ignore me."

  "Then I won't ignore you." He hesitated. "You're going to fall asleep in the bath if you continue."

  "Don't let me drown."

  He laughed under his breath. "Never. Here." He reached for a towel. "Stand up."

  Adele didn't bother to argue. She slowly unfolded herself and let Malloryn wrap the towel around her.

  Bubbles sluiced down her thighs as he tucked the edge of the towel between her breasts to anchor it. Then his hands came to rest upon her waist.

  Where they stayed.

  Adele set her palms on his shoulders, as his gaze dipped to her breasts. Despite her pain and exhaustion, she felt that heated gaze like a caress.

  "Malloryn?" she whispered.

  When he looked up, his irises were flooded with pure black—a sure sign the craving had him in its grip.

  Her breath caught.

  Only blood thirst, sexual hunger, or the sheer possessive nature of the predator roused that sort of look.

  But which one was it?

  "For all your fancy words, I'm going to start thinking you have wicked intentions if you keep looking at me like that," she said.

  "I don't."

  Liar.

  Adele arched a brow. She could feel the towel slipping free from its hold. "And yet, your eyes are black. Do you want me, Malloryn?" She brushed her thumb to the base of his throat. "Do you want my blood?"

  There. The muscle ticked in his jaw. "No."

  "Liar," she breathed. "That is one problem with the craving virus. It betrays itself when the predator rises. You want my blood, don't deny it."

  "I thought you sought to avoid such predators?" His lips thinned. "And I was trying to be considerate, what with your past. It's m
erely a result of my not drinking enough today, and the consequences of the ball. It will pass. Or I'll send for some blud-wein."

  It wasn't the bloodletting she had a problem with. Husbands and wives often shared blood privileges. "I trust you. I never thought I'd say that about a blue blood, but I trust you. You wouldn't hurt me. And it would be my choice to allow it."

  "No," he said, as if the only lifeline he had in this moment was to repeat the word.

  Damn him. "You're such a stubborn bastard."

  "And you're a distraction I cannot afford."

  A distraction, am I? Her eyes narrowed. "Better than being a coward."

  Oh, that earned her a heated look. "No one has ever dared say that to my face before—"

  "Well, I'm not afraid of you. And you can lie to yourself all you want, but you know I speak the truth. Maybe you didn't want a wife. And maybe I'm not asking for your heart. Just your presence in my bed. Why are you so determined not to touch me? You keep saying it's dangerous, that this might cause complications between us, but do you know what I think? I think you're afraid if you touch me, you won't be able to stop."

  Heat blazed in his eyes. "I told you—"

  "You've told me a lot of things. Perhaps we should test my theory?" Lifting her arms, Adele felt the towel slip loose.

  He caught it at her waist, but the damage was done.

  A harsh exhale escaped him as he glanced down at her bare breasts, all flushed and pink.

  "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. "You're injured."

  "Then be gentle with me."

  Make love to me.

  The blackness was back in his eyes. "I don't think I can tonight. There. Is that the truth you desire? That I want your blood? That I want to take you to bed and make sweet use of that body you flaunt in front of me? All night long. In every way you can possibly imagine, and some you probably can't." Sweeping his arm behind her knees, he lifted her out of the water as it dripped from her legs. And then he was setting her on her feet and toweling the water from her skin with rough, insistent hands. "Don't push me. Not tonight. Because I won't be gentle, Adele. And you need gentleness. I am doing my duty."

  Duty. Oh, how that word burned. "Duty as my husband?"

  Tugging the nightshirt down over her head, he met her eyes. "Yes."