Lucas bit his lip to keep from grinning too wide. “Don’t hold anything back, Your Grace.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
“Rest assured that I’m in no jovial mood, Heightfield. This is not a veiled threat, this is an outright demand.” The duke underlined his statement with a chilly gaze.
Lucas tucked his hands behind his back and nodded once. “Why?”
The duke’s jaw ticked as he seemingly ground his teeth together. “Because she is none of your concern.”
Lucas lifted a shoulder. “I beg to differ. I rather find her intriguing and I’m not inclined to quit her acquaintance just yet. Things are ever becoming . . . interesting.” He gave a wicked grin, enjoying the flush of red that reflected the duke’s apparent ire.
“Now see here—” The duke took a few menacing steps toward him. “She is betrothed to the Earl of Greywick’s son. It’s a union that we have long planned and eagerly anticipate! There is nothing that you have to offer that would tempt such a lady.”
Lucas couldn’t restrain a chuckle. He had more than succeeded in tempting Liliah; he’d had the pleasure of thoroughly ruining her.
But one could never be too certain, so he was damned determined to make sure he repeated the process just to ensure a job well done.
“What in heaven’s name are you smirking about?” the duke demanded, a look of disgust marring his face.
“It would seem I’m more informed about your family than you, Your Grace. I find that interesting. Either you are lying to me, or you have no idea. I’m not quite certain, but I will say that it truly is in your best interest for Greywick to win your daughter’s hand.” He arched a brow.
“How dare you impugn my integrity!” the duke bellowed.
“Do you wish for pistols at dawn? I’m more of a rapier man myself, but I’m quite certain that neither would give you an advantage. Besides . . .” He inched closer to the duke. “When I best you, who would ensure the betrothal would continue? Why . . . there would be a mourning period and”—he shrugged his shoulder—“I suppose then you could take your sordid secrets to hell with you.”
“Damn you to hell, Heightfield.”
“Is that a yes?” Lucas challenged.
The duke narrowed his eyes, then shook his head. “I’m not as foolish as you think.”
“Such a pity.”
Luke ignored the vein pulsing in the duke’s forehead, instead studying his adversary’s posture. Rigid shoulders, cold expression. He tried to think of a time he’d seen the duke even grin.
He couldn’t think of one.
How was it possible that Liliah was his blood?
“Stay away from her,” the duke reiterated.
“No,” Lucas answered carelessly. “And why do you even care? Anyone with eyes in their head can see that it’s a reluctant match. What do you gain, Your Grace, that you don’t already possess?”
The duke didn’t answer, simply kept a cold silence.
“If you do not wish to discourse, then it would seem that I’ll be left to the devices of my own imagination.” Lucas stepped back and walked around a chair before lazily sitting down. He toyed with the idea of telling the duke about Greywick’s bet, then decided on a different route. “If I had any kindness in my heart, I’d simply assume you were a protective father—however, we both know that true kindness is in short supply within this room, so I must devise an alternative reason.” He paused. “Maybe money, maybe secrets . . .”
The duke gave an irritated grunt.
“But since I’m quite certain you’re not about to visit debtors’ prison, it must be Greywick applying the pressure. And that must mean that Greywick knows something. . . that you wish to remain in the dark.” Lucas shrugged.
“That’s preposterous,” the duke ground out. “Take your leave, I have nothing more to say to you, and you have made your position quite clear.”
“But we’re just now starting to have an interesting conversation,” Lucas admonished as he stood.
“You always were a bastard.”
“Ah, and here we bring up that nasty little secret.”
The duke lost his color and glanced away.
“Remembering that which you wish to forget. Hmm . . . I wonder if that is the secret that Greywick hides,” Lucas whispered softly, watching loathing fill the duke’s expression.
“Out.” The duke swore the word.
Lucas gave a slow bow. “It was a lovely time. Quite . . . educational, I’d say.” Lucas turned to the door.
The duke didn’t make a sound as Lucas quit the room, his mind spinning in several different directions.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it before, but it was becoming clearer by the minute.
He’d have to dig a little deeper.
How in the hell had he gone from no strings attached with Liliah, to scrounging through her father’s past?
Hell hadn’t just frozen over, it had imploded from the chill.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Liliah was leaving the library when she caught sight of a familiar gaze. Heart stopping, then pounding as realization hit with full force, she glanced about for servants. When she assured herself that the hall was vacant, she lifted a hand to her lips to signal silence, and pointed back to the recently vacated library. As she held the door open, she kept an eye on the hall as Luc hastily made his way to the open door. He kissed her quickly on the lips before tugging her inside the library and closing the door firmly.
“Tell me it locks,” he whispered against her lips as he pulled her into his embrace. Liliah’s senses were overcome with the scent of him, the familiar hint of mint that clung to his clothes, and the spicy flavor of his kiss, all vying for her attention. Molding herself to his person wantonly, she gave herself fully to the kiss, delighting in each sensation as it rocketed through her.
When Luc released her lips, her eyes slowly opened and focused on his questioning expression. Belatedly she remembered the inquiry. “Yes.” She turned back and twisted the mechanism, securing the door.
“Delightful.” He leaned in, capturing her lips once more as his hands caressed down her shoulders to the swell of her hips, tucking them in tight against his in a not-so-subtle hint of desire.
Reason was forgotten, but curiosity wasn’t as easily dismissed, and Liliah reluctantly leaned out of the kiss, studying his handsome face. “How are you here?”
His blue eyes danced excitedly as they roamed her face. “A little tête-à-tête with your father.” He shrugged dismissively, and Liliah’s curiosity burned hotter.
“Why in heaven’s name—”
“I was invited,” Lucas answered, grinning mischievously.
“That’s . . . surprising.” She frowned slightly as she tried to imagine what would possess her father to invite someone so despised over for a private conversation.
“It was intriguing. He’s quite controlling and severe, which is no surprise to either you or me. But it was different to see him display such character traits in relation to his own family versus in the House of Lords.”
Liliah gave a wry grin. “I assure you his character is universally displayed, regardless of person or place.”
“I can see that,” Lucas answered, squeezing her hips as his gaze lowered to her lips.
A cautious thought entered Liliah’s mind. “Were you shown out?”
Lucas shook his head, then leaned down and kissed along the curve of her neck. Liliah’s eyes drifted closed as she fought for coherent thought.
“So, they expect you to still be on the premises?” Liliah asked in a breathless tone.
“I expect so,” Lucas murmured against her skin, the warm air from his breath causing a shiver of pleasure to vibrate down her back. “Do you want me to leave?” He leaned back as if withholding his attentions.
“Heaven’s no,” Liliah replied, reaching up to hold his shoulders, pulling him in close. He chuckled in response and teased her skin with more kisses.
“That’s th
e right answer. However . . .” He nipped at her earlobe, then licked it teasingly. “I will have to disappear soon. After all, my carriage is in front, waiting.”
“Damn,” Liliah breathed.
“Such language from a lady,” Lucas scolded jokingly, then placed several quick kisses to her lips, fleeting ones that were merely a taste of the passion withheld.
“Wicked,” Liliah remarked, following his retreating mouth with her own, desperate for more.
“Indeed you are,” Lucas said, then kissed her hungrily, his breath coming in short gasps as he pressed himself against her, making his insistent arousal apparent.
Lucas suddenly withdrew from the kiss and studied her, his gaze calculating as if trying to make some sort of decision.
“What?” Liliah asked artlessly, tilting her head slightly with curiosity.
Lucas glanced to the door, then back, resolve hardening in his expression. “Are you willing?” He slowly traced his hand from her shoulder down to her breast, covering her curves seductively, then tracing his touch down her belly to the heated part between her legs. The fire in his expression made her burn.
“Yes.”
“Thank God,” he swore, then kissed her deeply but quickly and lifted her in his arms. In short order she was reclining on the sofa that she had so often sat upon while reading, with his delicious weight pressing into her. The memories of their one night came back in full force and Liliah arched her back, needing to feel more.
Lucas’s movements were hurried, desperate and needy as he slipped his hands up her skirt and navigated her underthings. She aided by tugging at his breeches, and with a low oath, he assisted her in removing all barriers. With one hot stroke, he buried himself within her, kissing her deeply with each movement. Liliah’s body shook with the violent need of it, arching her back, her hips, allowing her hands their hungry need to roam his person as he savagely loved her.
It was everything she remembered but so much more. Her senses were just as heightened, yet there was this powerful expectation that built her body’s need into a fever as she settled her hands on his lower back and pressed him deeper within, feeling the edge of her release coming closer—knowing its power and expecting its pleasure. Luc’s body shook with raw power, adding to her already aroused senses and he silenced her cries of pleasure with his kiss, devouring her passion as he released his own with a muffled groan.
Liliah’s body pulsed, the afterglow almost as poignant as the climax as she forced time to slow down so that she could memorize every nuance. The weight of Luc as he completed her with his own body was erotic in its own right, but add to it the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his body melting through her clothes, the warm expression in his eyes as he met her surely awed gaze.
His blue eyes were clear, the cynical and hard edge absent. His shoulders were rounded with sheathed muscle as he supported his position, and his body still sang within hers. With a slight wince of displeasure, he slowly withdrew himself and sat upright, his hair disheveled just enough to hint at scandal. Liliah yearned to run her fingers through its thick texture, yet she understood the necessity in remaining undiscovered.
Not for her sake.
But for his.
Her heart ached with the knowledge that while these moments were precious, they were fleeting and of no lasting consequence. She pushed such melancholy thoughts to the back of her mind and chose to bask in the glow of being thoroughly loved—at least physically. For while it was certainly the act of the marriage bed, it was only an act of passion for them—and could never be more.
Her heart threatened to fracture at the thought, yet she breathed deep and slowly sat up, righting herself as much as she was able.
While she collected herself, she kept her gaze away from Luc, lest he suspect her deeper feelings that she had been warned against. She almost missed the low oath he muttered. Startled by the shift in emotional atmosphere, she glanced at him, immediately noting displeasure on his face.
Unexpectedly, her heart pounded with suspicion that it was some sort of lack on her part. Insecurity crept into her heart. “What is the matter?” she asked hesitantly.
His tousled hair became more disheveled as he ran a hand through its dark texture before wiping down his face in a regretful gesture.
Liliah’s heart pounded harder.
“I—that is—” Luc began, then froze as a knock sounded at the door.
Liliah’s gaze shot to the locked door, her heart pounding a new rhythm born of fear. “Yes?” she asked, then belatedly wondered if she should have kept her peace.
“Oh, my lady!” Sarah’s relieved tone had Liliah rising up on her feet, casting a wary and frantic glance to Lucas.
Lucas held a finger to his lips, then glanced about the room. He silently strode to a row of low bookcases and slipped behind them in a crouch.
Liliah took measured steps to the door, adjusting her hair and dress as she walked, formulating a believable lie.
Or so she hoped.
She paused before the lock, then a smile tipped her lips. Tugging the door, she shook it meaningfully, then tried again. “Oh my, it seems to be locked, Sarah. Wait just a moment.” She unlatched the lock in an exaggerated motion, then opened the door to her maid.
“My lady!” Sarah sighed in relief, then tilted her head in bewilderment.
“I confess I fell asleep. The door must have locked when I shut it. Have you been looking for me for very long?” Liliah asked, yawning for good measure.
“Oh, my lady! Your father had a guest who has refused to leave. Just now he has sent the staff after you, but I’ll report directly that you’re quite well,” Sarah added, curtseying.
“Thank you, I assure you, I’m quite well.” Liliah gave a small smile while her mind worked on a plan to get Lucas out of the house unnoticed.
“Very good, my lady. Your father wished me to remind you of the ball tonight, he intends to leave slightly early.”
“I shall be ready,” Liliah replied, hoping that Sarah would be on her way quickly. She’d have requested it if she didn’t think it would raise suspicion, but she elected to simply wait.
“Very good.” Sarah curtseyed once more, then begged her leave.
Liliah granted it, and closed the door, releasing a pent-up breath.
Her gaze wandered to the bookcase, a grin teasing her lips as she approached.
“Hide-and-seek?” Liliah teased, watching a grin spread across Luc’s face as he stood.
“I win,” he replied. “After all, I wasn’t found.”
“I found you.”
“No.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “I found you.”
“Details,” she murmured.
Lucas chuckled against her lips, then withdrew, his expression clouding.
“Yes?” Liliah asked, fisting her hand lest she reach up and caress his pinched brow in efforts to soothe it. But she wasn’t sure if such a gesture was welcome.
“I—that is . . .” He swore again. “I did not control myself as I should have.”
Liliah frowned in confusion, her mind flipping through the last twenty minutes.
He tenderly grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his expression. “I did not pull out as I did the first time. Liliah, do you understand what I’m saying?” He narrowed his eyes curiously.
Liliah shook her head with some effort, since his grasp was still upon her chin.
Lucas swallowed. “It means that there could be consequences. . . Dear Lord, what have I done?” Lucas ground out, releasing her. “In this you see exactly who I am, Liliah.” He shook his head angrily. “I not only willingly ruined you, but selfishly I took you as well, and even now as I should be loathing myself for such a deplorable act as giving seed to your womb, I have no shame; rather, in my selfishness, I only pray I don’t get caught with such a consequence, though it would certainly be my due.” He twisted his neck, tugged on his shirtsleeves, and smoothed back his hair, all the while holding her gaze as if unable to releas
e her.
Liliah wasn’t certain how to respond. Fear and anxiety washed over her first before the wonder and hope of the idea of a carrying Lucas’s child—of never having to let go of that part of him.
The wonder melted into shame, and she suspected that his anger wasn’t only aimed at himself, but her as well. It wasn’t a rational thought, but she was finding that the more she emotionally responded to Lucas, the more jumbled her thoughts became.
“Have you anything to say?” Lucas stood up straight, as if expecting a blow.
“What would you have me say? Or do, for that matter?” Liliah asked, her brow pinching.
Lucas took a breath, then paused as if thinking better of whatever he was going to say. Finally, he simply shook his head. “Nothing.” And with a long look, he strode to the door and peeked out. Without a backward glance, he was gone.
* * *
Liliah sighed deeply, then walked aimlessly to the center of the library. Reaching out, she caressed the back of the sofa as her mind wandered back to the stolen moments.
This clear idea had become more distorted by the moment. What had started as simply experience, had grown into something far less tangible and far more deep. Unable to fully understand, she had the sensation of treading water and failing to reach the surface. Her heart constricted each time she flickered her thoughts to Luc, and she forced herself to consider the option that had no future.
That maybe, just maybe, she was falling in love.
All the powerful sensations aligned with every account of love, yet the sinking feeling was ever present—and she wondered if that was because deep in her heart, she knew.
Love was impossible.
Lords of temptation were surely immune—and Lucas was certainly the king of their ranks.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Lucas called himself every loathsome name in his extensive repertoire. He had easily evaded the servants in the duke’s household, at least to the front door, where the butler simply arched a brow as he passed by. He forced a calm walk to his awaiting carriage and instructed the driver to head to the club. He needed time to think, but mostly, he needed someone who would beat some sense into him.
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