Duke of Minds (Master of Monsters Book 4)

by Stephen L. Hadley

  “Coward!” Cirilla snapped. “Unbelievable! I never took him for the sort to—”

  “It’s not that,” Leo interrupted. “At least, I don’t think it is. He came to speak with me this morning. I think perhaps he’s just tired of, well… Ansiri. I can’t say I blame him.”

  “I can,” she growled coolly. Grasping his head with both hands, she turned his face toward her. Cirilla’s eyes were as intense as Leo had ever seen them. “You’ll win this, Leo. With or without that boy. You’ll win.”

  Leo forced a half-hearted smile and tried to turn, but she held him fast.

  “You will,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t believe you were capable of it.”

  This time, there was no need to force his smile.

  “Oh?” he asked. “And what if I’d been less ambitious? Would you have settled for a mere count?”

  “Hmm.” Cirilla looked thoughtful for a moment then gave a casual shrug. “Perhaps,” she said. “It would have earned you a night or two in my bed at least.”

  “Is that all? Well, it’s a good thing I proved exceptionally ambitious then.”

  “A very good thing,” she agreed. Sliding mischievously into his lap, she twisted around and kissed his neck, just below the ear. “Because now you get me in the afternoon too. And more than just once.”

  Chapter Ten

  It felt wrong to indulge in a bit of midday lovemaking, especially after such grim conversation, but that didn’t stop Leo from trying. He followed Cirilla back to their chambers, still mulling over Summers’ report and Lucius’ pessimistic warnings. And yet, with each passing step, his worries seemed to grow less distinct. They were still there, of course, lurking behind each door in the labyrinth of his thoughts. Waiting to emerge and consume him anew.

  Fortunately, he had other distractions available to him.

  Cirilla’s hips swung as she walked before him. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was simply a benefit of the dress she wore or a deliberate attempt to entice him. That uncertainty fled as they neared the door to their chambers and she glanced over her shoulder to deliver a coy, alluring smile.

  Leo seized her before the door finished swinging closed. He spun her around, lips finding hers as he pinned her to the wall in a gentle, yet implacable embrace. Cirilla grinned against his kiss.

  “The bed’s right there,” she reminded him. But even as she spoke, her fingers slipped between them and began working the buttons of his shirt.

  “I know.” Leo didn’t explain further. Or rather, he couldn’t. He needed this, the distraction and the relief, but the notion of having sex in that room was unthinkable. How could he focus on the pleasure at hand without feeling Brigit and Delia’s ghosts watching him?

  Cirilla must have understood. She didn’t press him. Instead, she pried open his shirt and tugged it down his arms. Then she paused, frowning.

  “What happened here?” she asked, prodding his chest.

  Leo glanced down. His bruises had ripened, leaving his skin a canvas of mottled greens, browns, and purples.

  “Nyssa,” he said. Cirilla’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he added quickly, “Sparring with her, I mean.”

  “It’s distracting.” There was a touch of playfulness to her words, but some truth as well. Sighing, Cirilla spun to face the wall and ground her backside suggestively against him. “So what do you say we change things up a bit?”

  “Oh?” Leo grinned and cocked a brow. Tossing his shirt aside, he grasped his wife’s hips. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a few bruises of my own,” she teased. “It’s been quite a while since any man had the balls to shove me up against a wall and take what’s his.”

  That her challenge was a deliberate effort to distract him was obvious. But, even knowing it for what it was did little to stymie the surge of arousal that shot through him. Baring his teeth, Leo threw his weight against her, shoving her flat against the cool stone wall. With one hand, he fumbled with the clasp of his trousers. With the other, he hiked the rear of Cirilla’s dress so forcefully he expected her to scold him.

  She didn’t. Instead, Cirilla moaned softly and batted at his wrist in a feigned effort to resist him.

  “Please,” she whimpered. With her cheek flush against the wall, Leo could see both the gleam in her eye and the exaggerated desperation. “Please, Your Excellency! I won’t do it again!”

  “Of course you won’t,” Leo growled back. It was surprisingly easy to slip into the role Cirilla had assigned him. Almost as easy as it was to slip between her thighs and press the tip of his manhood to the crotch of her silk drawers. “Because I’m going to remind you of your place, girl!”

  “No!” Cirilla wailed. She kept her voice soft, presumably to avoid drawing the attention of the guards stationed outside the anteroom door. But, in a strange way, her caution only added to the realism of her faux struggles. Titles aside and disheveled, regal clothing aside, she could easily have passed for a flustered bondswoman.

  A bondswoman much like Brigit or Delia.

  Leo hesitated, flinching as the thought caught him unprepared. He shut his eyes tight and waited for the guilt to pass.

  “Y-your Excellency?” Cirilla said. She must have noticed his expression for she spun back to face him. Donning a timid, reassuring smile, she placed a hand on the center of his chest. “Please don’t blame yourself for my transgressions. I alone am responsible.”

  Leo sighed and raised his chin. As encouragement, his wife’s roleplaying was only partially successful. But, as a method of encouraging him to continue the game despite his inner conflict…

  “Why would I blame myself?” he growled. Clutching a fistful of her dress, he hiked it and slid his other hand beneath its hem. Cirilla’s skin was warm, almost hot, and grew warmer still as he trailed his fingers up her thigh and beneath the lacy edge of her underclothes. “You’re the only guilty party here, wench! And you know the penalty for your crimes.”

  For just a split-second, a ghost of a smile appeared on Cirilla’s face. Then it vanished, replaced by a pleading, wide-eyed expression of near terror.

  “Please, Your Excellency!” she squeaked. “Not my maidenhead! My virtue is all I have left!”

  It took a monumental effort for Leo to keep from snorting. It was hard to imagine Cirilla as a naïve, virginal young woman, though she undoubtedly must have been at some point. Even so, he nearly choked on his next words.

  “The law is the law,” he declared. “And the law declares that your virtue belongs to me now!”

  “But, what if…” Cirilla trailed off. Her nervous fidgeting was so convincing that Leo had to remind himself, yet again, that it was merely an act. “What if we came to some other arrangement? I’m certain I can make it worth your while.”

  “Such as?” he asked.

  Dropping her gaze, Cirilla reached up and began to loosen the laces at the neck of her dress. And as they fell open, one by one, the dress slid further down her arms until it fell into a puddle around her ankles. At once, she crossed her arms to cover herself. Then, as if realizing her mistake, she slowly uncrossed them.

  “Do… do they please Your Excellency?” she asked, blushing.

  It wasn’t the first time Leo had been impressed by Cirilla’s acting ability, but this fresh demonstration floored him. Every part of her, from the redness of her cheeks to the slight hunch of her shoulders screamed timidity. As did her involuntary twitch as he reached out and gave one of her breasts an experimental squeeze.

  Her nipple was still against his palm.

  “They’re fine,” he said coldly. “But these are hardly the first tits I’ve seen. You’re going to have to try harder if you wish to save your maidenhead.”

  Cirilla whimpered piteously. Slowly, reluctantly, she sank to her knees.

  “If it please Your Excellency, I—”

  He didn’t let her finish. Grabbing a handful of C
irilla’s hair, Leo guided her shoulders to the wall and stepped forward. He didn’t bother telling her to open her mouth. They both knew what he wanted. And when thrust forward against her lips, she was ready for him.

  Leo groaned softly as Cirilla took him deep. Though this was far from the first time she’d taken him into her mouth, it wasn’t exactly a common part of their bedroom routine. More often than not, she would toy with him, stroking, kissing, and teasing his member as if she intended to, then swiftly climbing astride him for more orthodox lovemaking. But now, with little warning, she’d done precisely what her actions had promised. And what was more, he was the one setting their pace.

  The temptation to abuse his power was there. But unlike the first time he’d experienced Cirilla’s tongue on his cock, he resisted the urge. He moved slowly and purposefully, bucking deeper than she might ordinarily have taken him but not so deep as to make her gag and squirm.

  Or, at least, that was his plan. But scarcely a minute after he’d begun, Cirilla shoved hard against his hips and pushed him back. She turned, doubling over in an exaggerated fit of coughing.

  “Please, Your Excellency!” she begged. “No more! I can’t stand to do such a foul thing!”

  “You will!” he thundered, relying more on his scowl than volume. “And you’ll swallow every drop of what I give you, or I’ll treat you like the common whore you are!”

  “But… I can’t! My poor mouth… tis much too small to take something so large! There’s no way I can fit every inch! Even if you force it in!”

  Leo stared down at her, certain that he’d misheard. Or, if he hadn’t, certain that he’d misunderstood. But no, despite her plaintive expression there was a gleam of arousal in Cirilla’s eyes. And then, as if to ensure that there was no misunderstanding, the corner of her mouth quirked briefly into an amorous smirk.

  “You dare tell a Duke what he can and cannot do?” he growled.

  “No, I—”

  As before, Leo did not allow her to finish. He took her by the chin, squeezing hard until her lips were forced apart, then rammed his way back inside. And, ever the dutiful husband, he did precisely as his wife requested.

  There was nothing feigned about Cirilla’s gurgle. Leo pushed forward until his balls rested against her chin and promptly adopted a rough, merciless rhythm. The woman at his feet sputtered and gagged each time his cock penetrated her throat. But despite her involuntary reactions and the shuddering of her narrow, naked shoulders, Cirilla’s watering eyes never once lost their spark. Still, he was careful not to lose control and stared unflinchingly downward, searching for any sign that she might be nearing her limit.

  He never found one. His limit on the other hand was not something that needed to be sought. The warm, ever-present pressure of Cirilla’s lips and tongue brought his approaching climax swiftly into focus. Leo growled as he felt the familiar, warning ache stir to life below his waist. He curled his fingers through his wife’s hair, holding her steady as he thrust his way toward climax.

  It didn’t take long. And however much he enjoyed this new, submissive side to Cirilla, he wasn’t about to prolong her suffering in search of an improved orgasm. Grunting, he felt himself slide over the edge. And with a final, ragged shove and a sharp gasp, he gave himself over to the pleasure.

  Leo groaned as he came, the sound lingering deep in his chest and escaping through gritted teeth. Orgasms were nothing new to him, but each one was unique in its own special way. In this instance, the novelty was the urgent whine that Cirilla let out as she frantically gulped his seed. Her hands found his thighs, the nails digging in painfully hard as she strove to keep up with him.

  And, as expected from a Duchess, she performed admirably.

  Leo pulled back sooner than he would have preferred, but he had no wish to drag things out. He leaned against the wall, panting and cooling his brow against the stone. And although his eyes were closed, he heard and felt Cirilla rise. She embraced him from behind, her breasts warm and slick against his back and her breathing nearly in time with his.

  “Well?” she asked, after a moment. “How did I do, Your Excellency? Well enough to preserve my virtue?”

  He chuckled. “No woman with her virtue intact is that good with her tongue,” he said.

  Cirilla harrumphed and jabbed him hard in the ribs with her knuckle. The sudden pain made him squawk and whirl, but he found her smiling rather than scowling.

  “That’s rude,” she said. “But I’ll allow it. And, seeing as I have no virtue left to steal…?” She jerked her head toward the bedroom door.

  “Again?” Leo asked, surprised.

  This time Cirilla did scowl. She caught him by the wrist, practically dragging him toward the bedroom. Somehow, in the wake of the last few minutes, the thought no longer bothered him as much as it once had.

  “You don’t think I choked on your prick just for the fun of it, do you?” Cirilla said. She grinned wickedly. “Come along, Your Excellency. The afternoon’s not finished yet.”

  ***

  The sun had begun to set by the time Leo escaped his bedchamber, looking and feeling like a wet rag. He might not have survived the delightful ordeal if not for the servant who arrived to announce dinner. And so, doing his best to straighten his hair and clothes, Leo made his way there.

  Cirilla, on the other hand, was positively glowing. Somehow, despite all the work that he’d done, her hair and skin looked as though she’d spent an hour tending them. She’d changed into a fresh, rather more formal gown. But otherwise, there was nothing to suggest she’d spent the afternoon in anything other than prim, dignified relaxation.

  “Relax,” she advised. Sweeping up from behind, she slipped her arm through his. “You’re the Duke. There’s no need to rush because some servant called. It’s not as though they’ll start without you.”

  “I know,” Leo murmured. He did his best to smile. It might have been permissible for him to share his private anxieties when they were alone. But even at home in the Ministry, certain appearances needed to be maintained.

  They entered the dining hall together. And, true to Cirilla’s assurances, none of those seated at the long table had begun eating. They rose as the sight of him—Summers first, Lucius a second later, and Davin last of all. The sight of her gave Leo pause, and he was about to question her presence when she gave a small shake of her head and gestured to his chair with her eyes.

  Leo sat and Cirilla took the vacant seat beside him. No sooner had they done so than a host of servants manifested from the ether and began to deposit trays of food upon the table.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you, Davin,” Leo said, pouring himself some wine. “You haven’t mixed up the days, have you? Our regular meeting isn’t until the day after tomorrow.”

  “How insightful,” she deadpanned.

  “It’s what I’m known for.”

  Davin snorted and smiled distantly. She poured herself a goblet of wine as well but didn’t bother to fill her plate as the others had.

  “I wanted to speak with you,” she said. Her eyes grew mischievous as she glanced between him and Cirilla. “But that steward told me you were indisposed. Speaking of—why the hell did you keep him around? Wasn’t he Avans’ steward?”

  “Who? Conrad?” Leo chuckled as he looked up from his pheasant. “Why wouldn’t I keep him? He’s got more experience than the rest of the Ministry’s staff combined. Besides, I killed the man who killed Avans. I’d like to think that’s earned me at least a little loyalty.”

  Davin shrugged with a thoughtful noise and sipped her wine. Then, after a quick glance around, she leaned back and propped her boots on the table, earning her a scowl from Summers. Leo waited patiently, expecting her to speak further. Then, when she did not, he cleared his throat.

  “So? This matter you wanted to discuss?” he prompted.

  Again, Davin surveyed those seated at the table. Seeing as there were only five, herself included, it did not t
ake long. At length, she grimaced.

  “I wanted to apologize,” she said. “For what happened. The attack on the Ministry.”

  The hall grew deathly quiet. Summers and Lucius both made a show of continuing to eat, but they proceeded so quietly that even the scraping of their knives seemed muted.

  “How so?” Leo said.

  “It shouldn’t have been possible,” Davin explained. “I know everything that goes on in the Low Crown. And, by extension, nearly everything that happens in Ansiri. I hear there were thirty, forty men who showed up. It’s easy to round up that many; there are plenty of desperate or foolish folk. But it shouldn’t be possible to plan a job that big without me hearing of it.”

  “We all make mistakes.”

  “I don’t!” Davin snapped, her eyes narrowing. “And you’re not hearing me, Leo. In order to pull something off like that, you’d need to know which of the various thugs and gangs can be paid to keep quiet. You’d need to know which can be trusted not to report back to me the second they got wind of it. That sort of thing goes beyond just nobles. It means they had help from a Low Crown noble, someone close to me.”

  Leo considered her words, struggling through the uncertainty they’d raised. If Davin’s control over the Low Crown was less thorough than she’d assumed, then clearly someone was making a move to usurp her authority. And, if they’d done so in such a brazen manner, then presumably they’d received assurances from a sponsor of no small means.

  He was about to say as much when Cirilla beat him to it. And, as usual, she’d already followed the thought to its conclusion.

  “Since we’ve detained Ansiri’s nobles,” she mused. “Then we’ve likely severed the spy’s connection to the counts. Do you have a way of finding out who’s responsible before they can reestablish communication?”

  “I’m working on it,” Davin said, nodding. She glowered moodily over her wine. “And in the meantime, I’d like to make amends.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Leo asked. To his surprise, he wasn’t angry. However much Davin might blame herself, she was hardly responsible for what had happened. The blame lay with Grey and the other counts.