The Duke Identity: Game of Dukes, Book 1

by Grace Callaway

  “Damn your eyes, Kent, Tessie’s in danger.” The urgency in Black’s voice coiled Harry’s insides. “I’m countin’ on you to take care o’ ’er. Trusting you with the greatest responsibility.”

  “Yes, sir. You can count on me.” Harry turned to go.

  Black stayed him with a hand. “One more thing: do not tell Tessa your true identity and that you’re a Peeler. Not until you ’ear from me that the danger’s o’er. I know my granddaughter: if you lose ’er trust, you won’t be able to keep ’er safe.”

  Harry gave a curt nod, then headed off to complete the most important mission of his life.

  32

  Tessa opened her eyes…and blinked groggily at the sight of the carriage interior. Where was she? Then it returned to her like flashes of a nightmare: Bennett’s arrival at the house last night, his terse explanation of what had happened, their abrupt midnight flit…

  Her hand flew to her throat; next to her medallion hung Grandpapa’s ring.

  Not a nightmare. It really happened, she thought numbly.

  Only a true crisis would lead Grandpapa to part with the symbol of his authority.

  She tamped down tears, pulled back her shoulders. What mattered was that Grandpapa and her Father were unharmed. They would defeat their enemies, she knew they would. In the meantime, she would do her duty by obeying her grandfather’s command. She would stay safe and protect the future of the House of Black.

  Her hand closed fiercely around the ring. You can count on me, Grandpapa.

  She realized that the carriage wasn’t moving. She had no idea where they were, how long Bennett had been driving; she was amazed that she’d fallen asleep at all. Now she pushed aside the curtain, and, beside her, Swift Nick roused, grimacing at the infusion of light.

  The sight startled her. There was nothing but…trees?

  “Crikey,” she muttered. “Where has Bennett taken us?”

  Throwing open the door, she hopped down. Her half-boots didn’t land on pavement or mud or any of the usual London surfaces. Instead, she was standing on grass—acres and acres of it, as far as the eye could see. There were trees and shrubs, too, more greenery than in Hyde Park, more than she’d seen in her life.

  Swift Nick alighted, ears pricking. He promptly bounded off into the grass.

  “Don’t wander too far,” she called.

  “Tessa. You’re awake.”

  She spun around as Bennett rounded the side of the carriage. He’d shed his jacket and cravat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up his sinewy forearms. A night beard shadowed his jaw. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were warm with concern.

  No one had ever looked so solid, strong, and steady. A wave of emotion crashed over her. Her breath hitching, she pitched herself at him.

  His arms closed around her. “Shh, love, there’s no need to cry. Everything will be all right.”

  “I’m not crying,” she sniffled against his waistcoat. “That would be stupid. Grandpapa is fine. He’s going to take down O’Toole and then we can go home.”

  “Just so.” He rubbed her back in a soothing circle. “We’ll just wait here until it’s safe to return.”

  Lifting her head from his chest, she peered up at him. “Where is here, exactly?”

  “Chudleigh Crest. In Berkshire.” He took her arm, steering her around the carriage. “We’re at my family’s cottage.”

  “You grew up here?” she said in surprise.

  His lips quirked. “It’s the countryside, sprite, not the Outer Hebrides.”

  To her, the world here was so different from her city upbringing that it might as well have been those isolated islands. “The farthest I’ve been from London is Hampstead. Mama’s constitution is too weak for travel, and Grandpapa has always been too busy to leave the city.”

  “Then we’ll grow two plants with one seed. We’ll keep you safe here and give you a sampling of country living.” Smiling, Bennett unlatched the garden gate for her.

  She passed through a trellised archway blooming with yellow roses, and her eyes widened with wonder. “This is your family home?”

  To her, the place could have come from a storybook. The cottage was built of gingerbread-colored brick, with cheerful windows and ivy climbing the walls. Surrounded by overgrown hedgerows and rose bushes, the cottage had a cozy, tumbledown charm.

  “We sold the one that my siblings and I grew up in. This is Ambrose’s cottage.”

  “He won’t mind that we’re staying here?” she said tentatively.

  Taking her hand, he led her through the open door. “Family is always welcome.”

  Her chest swelled at being included in his family. At the recognition of how much he was doing for her. For so long, she’d gone at things on her own, and it meant everything to know that she had a champion who would help her slay dragons. That she didn’t have to face the world alone. That when she needed him most, Bennett was there.

  Her fingers tightened around his.

  Inside, the cottage had a charmingly rustic feel. The parlor boasted plump, chintz-covered furniture and shelves of books; it was a place that invited one to curl up and relax. Bennett gave her a quick tour of the kitchen, dining area, and snug bedchambers at the back of the house.

  “I put your things in here.” He led her into the master suite, which had a massive tester bed and chaise longue by the fire. “There’s a bathing room through that door. Perhaps you’d care to wash up?”

  “In a moment.” She bit her lip. “Bennett, will Grandpapa and Father be all right?”

  “The situation is precarious.” His tone was somber, and she was glad he didn’t try to lie to her. “But Bartholomew Black has ruled this long for a reason. He’s a strong man, and he’s surrounded himself with strong allies. Moreover, he’s smart: he knew about O’Toole and De Witt and…” He hesitated, some emotion crossing his face that she couldn’t read.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “And everything important to him is at stake.” Bennett cupped her cheek, and she absorbed his warmth. “Your grandfather has a plan, I’m sure of it. You must stay strong and play your part.”

  “You’re right.” Sighing, she nestled closer. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  * * *

  Sometime past midnight, Harry lay in bed, hands tucked behind his head. Without the fog and smoke of London, clear moonlight streamed through a part in the curtains, and he stared up at the shadows frolicking on the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. Because of worry…and guilt.

  Black knew who he was, that he’d been working for the police. The cutthroat had chosen to trust him nonetheless because of his family. Because Black knew that Harry would do the right thing. Now Tessa was the only one who didn’t know the truth, and Harry burned to tell her everything. To unburden himself of the deception, beg her forgiveness, and start afresh, no lies between them.

  But he couldn’t. Because Black was right. To break the news to her now would compromise her safety. Her focus needed to be on evading her family’s enemies and to distract her from that would be an act of selfishness on his part.

  The right thing to do now was to fulfill his promise to her grandfather. To protect her. Only when the danger was over could he be free to confess everything.

  To ask her to marry him.

  It had taken seeing Celeste again to make him realize that the wound of his past had healed. That the heart he’d given as a young man was not the heart that beat in him now. And what Tessa had bestowed upon him—the sweet, generous bounty of her love—humbled him down to his soul.

  He was the luckiest bastard alive that she’d chosen him.

  Devil and damn, he couldn’t wait for this business to be over. Hopefully, it soon would be, with the help of his family. Before his departure, he’d entrusted Doolittle with a note to deliver to Ambrose. In it, he’d asked Ambrose to offer Black any assistance that he could. While Harry didn’t want to risk exposing his present location should the note fall into unintended hands, he knew
his family would worry if they didn’t know where he was.

  Thus, he’d written simply that he’d gone “home.” He’d told them he would return when it was safe, and they needn’t worry or come after him.

  All there was to do now was…wait.

  The soft squeal of hinges made Harry jerk, bolt upright in bed.

  His heart raced as he saw Tessa enter the bedchamber. She wore a billowing white night rail, her bare toes peeping beneath the hem. Her hair was a glossy mass tumbling over her shoulders.

  Having bid goodnight to her over an hour ago, he hadn’t been expecting company and was in his usual uniform for bedtime. That is, in the buff. Hastily, he pulled the bedclothes closer around his bare torso, where’d they fallen when he sat up.

  He cleared his throat. “Something amiss, sprite?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. It’s too quiet here…and too loud.” She came to the side of the bed, her eyes wide. “Are those blasted birds going to chirp all night?”

  He cocked his head, listening. He smiled slowly. “Those are crickets, love.”

  “Oh.” Her head bent, she fiddled with the edge of the sheet.

  Her scent and nearness spiked his desire. Beneath the bedclothes, he could feel himself getting hard. Yet he’d vowed to himself that he would act like a gentleman during their stay. He didn’t want to take advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable. There was only so much temptation a man could take, however: being naked, in bed, and inches away from the woman he loved was definitely testing his willpower.

  “Was there, er, something you wanted?” he said.

  “Actually, yes.”

  “If you could wait outside, I’ll get dressed and—”

  “That isn’t necessary. What I want is you.” Despite her brazen words, her gaze was shy. “May I stay in here tonight?”

  Christ. Need clawed at him. He fought it back.

  “That’s not a good idea,” he forced himself to say. “You’re tired, and it’s late. Tell you what, I’ll get dressed, and we’ll go back to your bedchamber. I’ll stay until you fall asleep—”

  “I don’t need a guard. I need you.” Before he could react, she clambered onto the bed. Onto him. Straddling his lap, she whispered, “Don’t you want me?”

  “It’s not a question of wanting—bloody hell, Tessa.” His fingers dug into her hips as she delicately licked the edge of his ear. “Stop that.”

  “Shall I do this instead?”

  She kissed his jaw, his neck, her hair sliding seductively against his chest. The scent of her, the feel of her…the everything of her. Everything he wanted.

  Which gave him the strength to thread his fingers through her hair. To pull her gently away.

  “I won’t take advantage of you, sprite.” He looked into her eyes, luminous pools of moonlight. “You’ve had a stress—”

  “You’re right. I have. People I love are in danger, and I can’t change that.” Her expression was at once innocent, wise, and fierce. “But right now, you’re here with me. I love you, Sam Bennett, and, while I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, I know what I have in this moment. I know there’s nowhere safer for me to be right now than here in your arms.”

  God, God, how could he resist her?

  He tipped up her chin. “I want you so damned much, Tessa. Do you know that?”

  “Now I do,” she said with a tremulous smile.

  He could take no more. He tumbled her to the mattress, rolling on top of her, kissing and kissing and kissing her. She answered his fervor with her own, and soon he was dragging off her night rail, impatient to be rid of anything between them.

  Skin met skin, and they both sighed. At the bliss, the closeness, the perfection of now with no thought beyond the moment. He wanted to give her everything. To worship his lover, to bring his wanton minx to new heights of pleasure.

  He rolled her over onto her belly, hiding a smile at her start of surprise. Her natural affinity for lovemaking could make him forget that she was still a novice. There was much she hadn’t yet explored, and he felt a fierce pride to know that he, and only he, would be her guide.

  Kneeling to the side of her, he swept her hair off her back and, for an instant, just took in her pristine beauty. Her supple lines and delicate firmness, her skin as unblemished as a field after a fresh snowfall. He bent to kiss the back of her neck, taking his time, savoring the feel and scent of her as he made his way down the lissome ladder of her spine.

  “You’re shivering,” he murmured.

  “You’re kissing my backside,” was her breathy reply.

  He chuckled against the dip of her back. “You don’t like it?”

  “I do, but it seems rather wicked.”

  “Only rather wicked? I’ll have to work on that.”

  He nipped her gently on one pertly rounded buttock. Her squeak of surprise melted into a moan as he licked away the small hurt, his fingers drifting toward the shadowed crevice just beyond. She twitched as his touch skated over her secret rosebud, down to her swollen folds. Hunger flared as he found her plump with juice, ready for him.

  He rolled her over and put his mouth on her ripe flesh.

  Her fingers curled in his hair, her hips arching as he teased her erect little love-knot. He licked and suckled, and it didn’t take long before he tasted her bliss. Like a man starved, he wanted more, would never get enough. He parted her with his thumbs, stabbing his tongue into her pink heat, yearning to get to the heart of his woman. To possess her utterly and forever.

  * * *

  “Bennett?”

  Tessa scarcely recognized her own voice. It was sultry, hoarse from her cries of pleasure. Bennett had brought her to climax so many times she’d lost count. She felt utterly spent, as wrung out as a rag.

  He lifted his head. Golden embers smoldered in his dark eyes. “Had enough, love?”

  “Come here and kiss me,” she whispered.

  He crawled over her, muscles flexing, big and lean and powerfully aroused. For while he’d seen to her satisfaction with virile persistence, he hadn’t yet found his own. When he lowered his head to kiss her, his erection prodded her belly. She reached between them, wrapping her fingers around the enormous shaft, and he groaned against her lips.

  “It’s my turn.” She pumped him firmly, from root to tip. “Will you let me do whatever I want?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  His heated intensity told her it was true. He’d give her anything.

  Which meant she could give him…everything.

  She scooted upward to align her body with his. Deliberately, she rubbed her soft, wet sex against his turgid length, the feeling so exquisite that her nerve endings reawakened. Instinctively, she lifted her legs, fitting her calves into the hard grooves of his hips, canting her pelvis. The new position notched the blunt head of his cock against her opening, sending thrills of anticipation through her.

  “I want you inside me,” she whispered.

  Corded muscle stood out along his neck, his chest heaving. “Tessa, I don’t want to take advantage—”

  “You said I could have whatever I want.” She wriggled, painting his hardness with her damp desire, and he exhaled harshly. “This is what I want. You inside me, Bennett.”

  “Christ, Tessa.” He framed her face with his hands, his features hard-carved with passion. “Are you certain you want this?”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I want to belong to you completely.”

  “If we do this, there will be no going back,” he warned. “You’ll be mine, and I will never let you go.”

  “I’m already yours, my love.”

  Her words seemed to undo him. His eyes blazed and then he was giving her what she wanted. Fitting himself against her, pushing into her softness, a steady, stretching incursion that made her gasp.

  “I’ll go slowly,” he said. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

  “Don’t stop,” she panted. “Give me more. Give me everything.”

 
He groaned, obliging her. New sensations whirled her senses. His thick cock slid deeper, deeper, and deeper still; while there was a pinch of discomfort, there was also an opening to new delights. He nudged a hidden place, and she jolted at the radiating bliss.

  “Am I hurting you?” He tensed above her, every muscle controlled, waiting for her.

  “It feels so good,” she sighed.

  “Good doesn’t describe the half of it.” He lunged slowly, oh so slowly. Brows drawn, he said, “You’re so tight, so beautiful…”

  He began to withdraw. When she made to protest, he thrust his hips, and then, then she began to discover what pleasure truly was. It was indescribable: the heat and intimacy, the soul-searing friction of her lover inside her. Discomfort became a distant memory as she instinctively followed his lead, her hips moving to meet his, her body absorbing the impact of delight.

  “Yes, love,” he rasped, “move with me, let me have you, all of you…”

  He shifted his angle and hers, opening her further. She gasped as the steely root of his cock grazed her pearl. Every time he hilted himself, he ground against her mound, triggering familiar tremors in her pussy.

  “Come for me again,” he bit out. “Take me with you.”

  The knowledge that she could bring him over the edge catapulted her into another crisis. Her pussy seized around his thick invasion as she came, and the bliss was better, deeper than anything she’d previously experienced.

  He pulled himself from her with a growl. On his knees, he fisted his huge, glistening erection.

  His virility would forever be branded in her fantasies. The flexing of all that muscle, his arm bulging as he frigged his magnificent cock. All the while, his hot gaze held hers. He roared her name as he exploded, showering her belly, ribs, and breasts with his creamy heat.

  The scent of his satisfaction made her giddy, and she looked at him with a dazed smile.

  “That was…that was…” She struggled to find the exact word.

  “Everything,” he said huskily.

  Yes, it was. Exactly.

  And it was only the beginning.