The Duke Identity: Game of Dukes, Book 1

by Grace Callaway

  “I adore you,” he said against her hair.

  She tensed, and he felt a pang of remorse. Given his trespasses, he wouldn’t blame her for not believing him. She’d forgiven him, yes, but that didn’t mean she would forget that he’d lied to her. He was wracking his brain for a way to tell her it was all right, that he would earn her trust again, when she lifted her head from his chest and looked at him.

  “Your sisters told me you weren’t the effusive type.”

  Relieved at the teasing, loving sparkle in her eyes, he said, “I’m not. Only with you.”

  “Does that mean I’m going to get poems on my pillow?”

  “If you want them.” He’d give her poems. He’d give her any damned thing she wanted.

  “What on earth would I do with poems?” Her hand slid inside his robe, the ridges of his belly flexing beneath her caress. When her fingers circled his cock, his breath hitched. Her touch made him instantly hard. And he got harder when she whispered in his ear, “I’d rather have this.”

  He turned onto his side, facing her. “We don’t have to make love tonight,” he said seriously. “You must be exhausted. Let me hold you until you fall asleep.”

  “Or I could hold you.” Her fist tightened, and he couldn’t stifle a groan. “And we could pleasure each other until the morning comes. Which sounds better, do you think?”

  A question that didn’t require an answer. He leaned in to claim her mouth…and found himself pushed onto his back instead. He blinked as she straddled his torso. “Sprite?”

  “I’ve decided how I’m going to exact my retribution. You’re going to lie back and let me have my way with you.”

  Well. This was new.

  And bloody arousing.

  His erection strained against her bottom. “Whatever you wish, love.”

  She bent over and kissed him. Sweetly, so sweetly that his blood sang and he reached for her—and found his hands swatted away.

  “Keep your hands to yourself, Professor,” she said.

  God, he was going to come just from her saucy banter.

  He let his hands fall to his sides, and she proceeded to kiss him again. Her lips fluttered over his injured face, gentle and sweet and healing. His chest heaved as her tongue traced grooves of muscle, as she licked, nuzzled, and nibbled her way down his body. Tasting him with a desperation that made his fists twist the sheets. When her nightgown got in her way, she yanked it over her head, and her loveliness struck him like a physical blow.

  “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  “So are you. I especially like this.” Her finger traced the trail of hair that bisected his abdomen, the ridges leaping beneath her touch. “It’s like an arrow pointing to my favorite part.”

  “Your, er, favorite part?” He couldn’t help but grin like a fool.

  “Well, after your eyes. And your mouth.” Her smile was impish. “I suppose it’s one of my favorite parts.”

  “Tessa?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Your favorite part likes you too.”

  She took his not-so-subtle hint, making a space for herself between his thighs, wrapping her fingers around his eager cock. He was so hard she had to wrench him gently from his stomach. She frigged him with both hands, his pre-seed lubricating her touch, and he prayed to God that he would last through her exquisite brand of torture.

  She put her lips on him, and his hips bucked as she lapped at his erection. Her pink tongue worked over the fat, glossy dome, then down the veined shaft, then, Christ, over his pulsing stones. He didn’t know what was more erotic: the sensations of her hot little mouth or seeing the pleasure she took in pleasuring him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded as she came up again.

  His neck arched as she took him deep into her mouth. “Ah, that’s fine.”

  Her reply was muffled by his rod, the most sensual sound he’d ever heard. She bobbed up and down, up and down, taking more and more of him. When he butted against the back of her throat, her chin brushing his taut balls, he knew it was over.

  “I’m going to spend,” he grated out.

  Her answer was to draw harder upon him.

  He detonated with a roar, surging into her giving mouth, giving her everything that he was.

  She released him with a pop that made his still-hard shaft twitch. She was panting, her lush lips wet with his seed, and hunger rushed through him. He would never have enough of this woman, never.

  Clamping his hands on her slim hips, he hauled her up, heard her gasp of surprise as he planted her sex on his face. Her nectar dripped into his ready mouth, and he growled with pleasure at her abundance. She moaned as he ate her, licking her slit, sucking on her pearl. He stiffened his tongue, pushing into her tight little hole, fucking her sweetness until she came.

  Before she finished, he dragged her back down his body. Pleasuring her had brought him to full arousal again. He notched his stiff cock to her entrance and yanked her down.

  He held her still, savoring the perfection of their fit. Of her tight and slick around him. Of him hard and throbbing inside her. Everything as it was meant to be.

  “Harry,” she gasped, “I need to move.”

  “Go ahead, love. Ride me,” he said huskily.

  This position was new to her, but his sprite was nothing if not game. She moved her hips, lifting up, her brows knitting…and then she sank down, her lips forming a lush “o.”

  “I like this,” she breathed.

  “I thought you might,” he murmured.

  Soon, she found a rhythm. He kept his hands on her hips, guiding her as she rode him, as she impaled herself on his raging prick. Her pretty breasts bounced as she took him harder and harder, her wet petals kissing his abdomen, her lips chanting his name.

  He surged up, capturing her nipple in his mouth. At the same time, he reached to where they were joined, his thumb finding her pearl, rubbing it as he shafted her.

  “I love you, Harry,” she gasped. “Never forget it.”

  “I love you, Tessa. So bloody much,” he growled.

  She came with a wild cry, and he just managed to pull out, groaning as his cock wedged into the crevice of her arse. Two thrusts between those pert hills and his seed blasted from him, raining over her backside.

  He closed his arms around her, their heartbeats slowing in unison.

  “Tessa?” he said.

  She was so quiet that, at first, he thought she might have fallen asleep. Then she lifted her head, her eyes as soft as seafoam. “Yes?”

  “Do you want to know which part of you is my favorite?”

  “Which one?”

  He smiled slowly. “Everything, my love. Every single part.”

  37

  The next morning, freshly bathed and dressed (Lizzie had arrived with a change of clothes), Tessa found herself once again in the midst of the Kent family. This time the husbands were present, and they were a handsome, virile bunch. They were also openly affectionate with their ladies, a rarity in Tessa’s experience. To her great relief, the Garritys had also come, Mama and Ming with them. Though pale, Mama had returned Tessa’s fierce hug.

  Ming had stood before Tessa, his head bowed. “That night, O’Toole’s men too many. Surrounded us. Master tell Ming go, get Mrs. Todd, take to safety. So I did.” His voice was gritty, his hands balling at his sides. “I left him.”

  “You did what Grandpapa wanted you to do.” She’d taken one of Ming’s strong, capable hands in both of hers. “You couldn’t have saved him. Because of you, Mama is safe. We owe you much, dear friend, and we’ll be relying upon you again when we rescue Grandpapa from that villainous O’Toole.”

  Emotion had burned in Ming’s eyes. With a curt nod, he’d withdrawn to the edge of the room.

  Tessa now sat next to her mother on the couch, Alfred on her other side. She’d already thanked her friend profusely for all he’d done. Alfred, being Alfred, had waved aside her words of gratitude; currently, he was plowing his way
through a plate of refreshments.

  The rest of the group was sitting or standing around the coffee table. Although Tessa had slept little last night, the reason standing behind her, she felt invigorated. With all the heads in the room, they would come up with a plan to rescue her kin.

  “Thank you all for coming,” she said, and the chitchat quieted in the drawing room. “On behalf of the House of Black, I want to express my gratitude for your assistance.”

  “Any friend of Harry’s is a friend of the Kents,” Ambrose Kent said.

  “Your grandfather once did me a great service, Miss Todd.” The sultry voice belonged to Marianne Kent, Ambrose’s wife, a glamorous silver blonde. “And I am not one to forget a debt.”

  During the earlier introductions, Tessa had discovered that Mama and Marianne Kent were acquainted. Although the two had not kept in touch, Mrs. Kent had apparently planned Mama’s wedding, a fact that Tessa had been too young to remember.

  Destiny meant to twine the paths of the Kents and Blacks, it seemed.

  Feeling Harry’s hand on her shoulder, Tessa looked up at him, and the steadiness of his bespectacled gaze strengthened her.

  She turned to the Garritys, who occupied a love seat. “We Blacks are in your debt for taking care of Mama. May I offer my sincere apologies for the, um, subterfuge at my last visit?”

  “No apology necessary.” Gabby’s smile was as bright as her red curls, her blue gaze clear. “With your family in danger, of course you had to be careful. And we were ever so happy to host Mrs. Todd. There must be no talk of debt, isn’t that right, Mr. Garrity?”

  Garrity’s black brows lifted infinitesimally. “As you say, Mrs. Garrity.”

  Tessa had a feeling that the moneylender was not quite on the same page as his wife when it came to the debt he was owed. No matter. Once her grandfather was free, he would reward all those who’d been loyal to him.

  “The House of Black does not forget a kindness—or a wrong. That scoundrel O’Toole will pay for what he has done.” Mama’s quiet voice rang with veracity. “Mr. Garrity, will you tell the group about the letter you received?”

  Garrity removed a missive from the pocket of his dark frock coat. “It arrived this morning from O’Toole. He has declared himself the new king. He’s giving the dukes three days to swear fealty to him. If not, he will execute Black.”

  A chill swept through Tessa, and Harry’s grip tightened on her shoulder.

  “The blackguard wouldn’t dare,” she said in a choked voice.

  “At this point, it is clear O’Toole would dare pretty much anything.” Garrity flicked a speck of lint from his trousers. “As far as I know, two dukes have crossed over to his side already. He has the men and means to take power. And if those loyal to Black resist, O’Toole will have an excuse to take Black’s life.”

  Tessa’s heart kicked against her ribs. “What do we know about the flash house where O’Toole is keeping my kin?”

  “Based on the information from my men’s surveillance, I’ve drawn a map.” This came from Ambrose Kent, who laid out a piece of parchment on the coffee table. Everyone crowded in for a closer look.

  “It is situated in Blue Gate Fields, on the bank of the Thames. My men have scouted four entry points. There are the obvious ones at the front and back of the building.” Ambrose tapped his finger on the red X’s that marked each spot. “In addition, we believe there are two hidden entrances. My men spotted people entering the adjacent tavern and leaving through the flash house.”

  “There is a tunnel below ground,” Harry said, “connecting the buildings?”

  “Precisely.”

  “What about this last entrance?” Tessa pointed to the remaining red X at the rear of the flash house. “It looks like it is in the river.”

  “Good eye, Miss Todd. That last entry point does indeed lead into the Thames. My men have spotted lighters going into the banks beneath the flash house.”

  “An underground water passage,” Violet breathed. “It reminds me of all those secret passageways we found when we solved that murder—remember, Carlisle?”

  Viscount Carlisle, a rugged Scotsman, sighed. “Aye, lass. No matter how hard I try to forget.”

  “That is four entry points,” Harry cut in. “Have we the men to cover them?”

  Kent looked grim. “That brings us to the next question: our plan of attack. Garrity, what is your estimate of O’Toole’s forces?”

  “O’Toole is the most powerful of all the dukes. With two others, Moran and Lavery, joining him, he will outnumber our combined forces at least two to one. And there is more.” Garrity’s dark eyes were forbidding in his pale face. “When Black and I met, we both agreed that O’Toole cannot be doing all this alone. He is a ruthless brute, yes, but there is a sophistication behind the hellfire, a subtlety and deliberation in how he has strategically been undermining Black’s power that is uncharacteristic of him.”

  “O’Toole has a partner.” To Tessa, this made sense. “Do you think it was De Witt?”

  “De Witt was a pawn,” Garrity said flatly. “For years, he’s been swimming in gaming debts. According to colleagues of mine, he’d been trying to sell a rock blasting device to the railways, but his venture failed when that substance proved too unstable. His gambling got worse. My guess is that he became so desperate that when someone approached him to make the hellfire for a deadlier purpose, he agreed.”

  “Then someone else is pulling the strings behind the scenes.” Harry’s brows drew together. “Someone clever enough to cover his tracks at every turn.”

  “Or her tracks,” Emma pointed out. “Never underestimate the power of a villainess. Trust me, I’ve made that mistake.”

  At her words, her husband, the wickedly handsome Duke of Strathaven, put a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her snugly against his side.

  “We don’t have time to worry about this hidden partner,” Tessa burst out. “The clock is ticking. We have only two days before O’Toole executes my kin. We must plan an attack.”

  For a moment, silence shrouded the room.

  “It will be a bloody battle,” Ambrose Kent said somberly. “One that might incur heavy losses, and, moreover, one that we cannot guarantee we’ll win.”

  “Two to one are not winning odds,” Garrity said. “I am not a man to bet on a losing horse.”

  “But we must help Tessa,” Gabby said, her blue eyes rounded.

  Looking around the room, Tessa saw concern…and determination. These people, who hardly knew her, would be placing themselves and their men in jeopardy for the sake of her family. Entering a battle they knew they could not win. And she knew she could not ask that of them.

  Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. “Mr. Garrity, the traitors Moran and Lavery aside, what positions have the remaining dukes taken?”

  His brows lifted. “Severin Knight, Christian Croft, and the Prince of Larks have declared no position in this. I believe they are waiting to see where the chips fall.”

  “Then it is time they are reminded of the fealty they swore to my grandfather,” Tessa said.

  “No offense, Miss Todd, but I do not think they will listen to a female.”

  “I may be a female,” she retorted, “but I am also a member of the House of Black.”

  Standing beside her, Harry said, “I’ll go with you.”

  And she loved him for it. She linked her hand with his.

  “Sinjin and I have an acquaintance with the Prince of Larks.” This, surprisingly, came from Polly. “Perhaps we could be of help?”

  Tessa stared at the beautiful lady and her extravagantly handsome spouse, the Duke of Acton. How on earth would these nobs be acquainted with the leader of the mudlarks?

  “It is a long story.” Acton’s dark blue eyes were amused as he regarded his wife. “We’ll explain on the way there.”

  “We have another ally.” Harry spoke up. “The police.”

  “You think Peelers will help us?” Then she recalled that her
lover was one of them. “Um, no offense.”

  “None taken.” Harry’s reply was rueful. “When your grandfather mentioned that Loach had been an informant for Inspector Davies, I asked my brother to look into the matter. To make sure the police were in no way involved in the plot against your family.”

  “Davies is clean,” Ambrose said quietly. “I spoke with several of his informants. All of them stated that he instructed them never to engage, only to observe. I, myself, have known Davies for over two decades, and my gut tells me he is an honest man.”

  Still, she hesitated. Old beliefs died hard.

  “Just as good and evil exist in the underworld, both are found in the police force,” Harry said.

  It was difficult to argue with reason.

  “Will you ask this Davies to join us, then?” she said reluctantly to her lover.

  “Let me talk to him,” Ambrose said. “Harry ought to accompany you on your quest.”

  Surrounded by staunch supporters, Tessa felt a surge of confidence. She grasped the chain of her medallion, pulling it from beneath her bodice. The gleaming disk and her grandfather’s signet ring glinted in the morning light.

  “From the bottom of my heart, thank you, friends,” she said. “The House of Black will not forget your kindness this day.”

  * * *

  To Harry’s relief, the meeting with the Prince of Larks went off without a hitch. This was not surprising, given the history between the Prince, Polly, and Sinjin. During the adventures that had brought Sinjin and Polly together, Sinjin had saved the Prince’s life, and Polly was a mentor to the Prince’s young sister. Indeed, the Actons ran a school in the countryside giving interested mudlarks a chance to learn a vocation, should they choose.

  Nonetheless, Harry knew a fierce admiration watching his sprite in action. It struck him, not for the first time, that she had much in common with her grandfather. Given the chance to prove her mettle, she did so without hesitation. Her willfulness, pranks, and clever stratagems were but a shadow of what she was truly capable of, if given the opportunity.

  She was fearless, resolute, possessed of a royal strength of will. She was a true leader in spite of her sex, diminutive size, and the ferret perched on her shoulder.