One Fine Duke

by Lenora Bell

  Perhaps a flat, muscular abdomen.

  She glanced down.

  Fatal error.

  In one ruthless move he knocked the pistol from her hand, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her against the wall, reversing their positions.

  “Oof,” she exhaled, more from surprise than pain.

  He lifted both of her wrists with one of his hands and held her trapped against the rough wood wall. She tried to squirm free but he was too strong.

  Waltzing with the man had been a breathless moment of anticipatory awareness . . . this was the storm.

  Her emotions rioted, and her body betrayed her mind, reacting to the feel of his hard, long body covering hers.

  Desire shot an arrow through her belly.

  A dark shed. A mad, half-clothed duke.

  “Let me go,” she said, panting, her breasts rising and falling against his unyielding chest.

  Hold me closer. Give me my first kiss. Up against a wall in the dark.

  Eyes glittering as you claim my lips.

  “It’s not every evening that I’m held at pistol point by a debutante and forced to undress,” he said. “If I let you go, how do I know you won’t lunge for your weapon?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me, Your Grace.”

  “Ha.” His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist and the longing in her belly, her mind, intensified.

  Kiss me now. I want to know what it’s like. I want you to be the one.

  What was wrong with her?

  “I don’t trust you, Miss Penny. I hardly know you. Whom are you planning to meet?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “Why did you work so hard to make me dislike you while we were dancing?”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that not every unmarried lady in the world wants to wed you?”

  “Actually, no it hasn’t. Becoming a duchess is a powerful prize. And I am a handsome, virile specimen, despite my bleak reputation.”

  “Ha.” Conceited, controlling dukes.

  His lip quirked. “You don’t think I’m handsome, Miss Penny?”

  “Certainly not. Too brooding to be handsome. You prowl around with your own private thundercloud above your head.”

  His lips tilted higher in a predatory half smile. “But I heard you muttering about how handsome I was. And how I smell delicious.”

  “I must have been speaking of some other duke,” she replied flippantly.

  He did smell delectable. A heated blend of spiced musk and sweet almonds that made her want to nuzzle his neck with her nose.

  “You’re really not frightened of me at all, are you?” he asked.

  “You’re hardly going to murder a debutante at your mother’s ball. Bad for the family name.”

  “What’s left of it,” he said, with a wide streak of bitterness in his voice.

  “I’m not scared of anything.” That wasn’t true. She was scared of lots of things.

  She was frightened of herself, right now, not of him.

  Her mind felt foggy and her body wanted to do scandalous things. Being trapped and held at his mercy should have made her furious but apparently made her wanton instead.

  “Is that so?” His fingers tightened around her wrists. It was a good thing that the lighting was so dim because the position stretched her breasts over her corset until her nipples were nearly visible. Nipples which were embarrassingly hard, as if it was snowing out and not a mild summer evening.

  He glanced at her breasts, his gaze like hot candle wax searing her skin. If he touched her skin it would be hot, like the barrel of a pistol after being discharged.

  “I’m fearless and worldly and sophisticated,” Mina insisted. “I don’t even care that you saw me in my shift.”

  “Yes you do. You were blushing.”

  “It’s too dark for you to tell.”

  “You’re only pretending to be a sophisticated London lady, Miss Penny.” He touched the edge of her bodice with his free hand. “This gown doesn’t suit you, and I think you know it. Why change into it?”

  Maybe she was still an awkward, country-bred hoyden. Maybe she wasn’t worldly yet, but she had to pretend to be—for Lord Rafe.

  Blast. She’d forgotten about him again. How much time had passed?

  “This may be my very first ball, but I’m a woman of the world. I have a proposition for someone and this is the right costume,” she said.

  “A proposition. Am I to understand that you are planning your ruin?” he asked, his voice husky, as though he might volunteer for the job.

  She shivered. Her eyes closed.

  She might want to hire him.

  Focus, Mina.

  “Not a carnal proposition, a business one,” she said tartly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She made another attempt at freeing herself.

  “I’ll let you go now, Miss Penny.” He released her wrists and stepped away. “Since you have an assignation to keep.”

  She lowered her arms.

  He stooped down and when he rose her pistol lay in the palm of his hand. “I believe this is yours.”

  “Aren’t you afraid to give it back to me?”

  “You wouldn’t shoot a duke at his own ball. Bad for a lady’s reputation.”

  She accepted the pistol and stuffed it into her reticule.

  “And now I’ll make myself presentable and leave the garden shed to you, Miss Penny.” He began fumbling with his cravat.

  It must be late. Nearly time for Lord Rafe and his friends to make their entrance. She’d be watching from the gardens and when he entered, she’d meet him halfway.

  Grizzy would be livid, but there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it.

  They’d have to elope to Gretna Green to be married, since her uncle would never consent to the union. He’d never allow her to marry one of his spies, especially one who’d disgraced himself and was currently out of Sir Malcolm’s favor.

  The duke was still attempting to retie his cravat into something resembling a fashionable knot. The sight was somehow endearing.

  “You’ve no idea how to tie that, do you?” she observed.

  “Not a clue.” He tied the ends into a large bow directly under his chin. “How does this look?”

  “Dreadful.” She squelched a giggle. “Your valet will murder you.”

  The duke undid the bow and started over again. “Cursed cloth.”

  “You’re doing it all wrong.”

  “Thank you very much. The problem is that my fingers are too large.”

  All of him was too large. He had dwarfed every other man in the ballroom.

  He would tower over Lord Rafe, taking up all the space in the ballroom, drawing Mina’s eyes to him instead. She must stop having these thoughts.

  “Here. Let me help you,” she said brusquely. The sooner he had his cravat tied, the sooner he would leave. Then she would have time to tidy her coiffure and restore her composure before doing what she had come to do.

  She stood on her tiptoes and untied his cravat. She hadn’t considered how intimate such a simple gesture might be. Unknotting a cravat, unloosening his clothing.

  “I met your sister, Your Grace. A lovely girl.”

  He glanced down at her. “That’s what I think, but she’s not popular because of the shortsightedness of London dandies.”

  “That’s just silly—all because of a slight affliction of her facial nerves.”

  “She’s marked as other. She’s an easy target.”

  “I thought she was remarkably clever and well-spoken.”

  He smiled at her for the very first time and she had the sensation that he was seeing her—truly seeing her—and that he liked what he saw. “You’re right. She’s sharp as a knife. She should have dozens of suitors.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t wish to wed.”

  “Why, did she tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words . . . but she did say that she was looking forward to being an old maid.”

 
Her fingers shook slightly. Her whole body was vibrating, as if she were stretched over a crossbow and had been plucked by strong fingers.

  He had to lean down so that she could reach his cravat.

  He would lean in much the same way to kiss her.

  And there her mind went again, wishing he would kiss her. It was beyond irritating.

  He sank to his knees. “Is this better when I’m down here?”

  She made a mistake in the tying and had to start over again. “I could use more light.”

  Instead of moving the lantern closer, he placed his palms on her hips and moved her closer to the lantern.

  “It will have to be undone,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll get it right eventually.”

  Drew was undone. Mixed up and tangled.

  The intimacy rolled over him in a wave. Her small fingers at his neck.

  Kneeling before her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her breasts. Tease her nipples to peaks with his tongue.

  It had been too long. And she was very, very pretty. And he was only a man.

  Her beauty was straightforward. It hit him in the solar plexus. Her hair smelled fresh and sunshiny, like a field of wildflowers.

  He’d like to loosen those tightly coiled ringlets on either side of her cheeks with his fingers, muss her hair . . . unfasten that scarlet seduction of a gown.

  It had been a long time since he’d felt this buzz in his stomach. Attraction. Awareness.

  Whom was she wearing this dress for? While they were dancing, she’d been glancing at the door. She’s made a comment about Rafe. What had she said? That she’d met him on several occasions when he visited her uncle.

  Dear Lord.

  Not Rafe.

  He grabbed hold of her hands. “Please tell me you didn’t change into this gown to impress my brother.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Your Grace.” She extricated her hands from his grasp and gave one final tug to the ends of his cravat. “There. You’re presentable.”

  He wasn’t presentable. He was a raging beast. The thought of Miss Penny throwing herself away on Rafe made him see red.

  He took a deep breath. He could be wrong. “My brother isn’t coming to the ball tonight.”

  “Not coming—why?” Dismay in her eyes, quickly followed by nonchalance. “That is, why should I care?”

  Damn it. He’d been right. She’d changed into this seductive red silk gown for Rafe.

  It was written all over her face, though she strove to hide it.

  “You shouldn’t care, Miss Penny.” Please don’t care. Not for Rafe.

  “I don’t.” She tossed her head and one ringlet fell into her eyes. She blew it away with an exasperated breath.

  He rose to his feet. “Rafe’s not attending the ball. I don’t know where he is. We had an argument today and there’s no way he wants to be in the same room with me.”

  “Oh.” The one syllable saying so much. She’d been waiting for Rafe, watching for him, she was . . .

  “You’re in love with my brother,” he said.

  “Absolutely not,” she huffed. “I told you, he visited my uncle sometimes. And I’ve read about him in the papers. That is all.”

  “He took an interest in you?”

  “He may have taken a passing interest.”

  Drew nodded. “He takes an interest in every pretty girl he meets. I’ll wager he plucked a rose from his lapel and promised to marry you someday.”

  Her eyes clouded over. “Something like that.”

  “And you took his words literally.” Now he was beginning to understand. Vulnerable young girl meets handsome rake. An obsession blooms.

  “He was kind to me at a time in my life when I felt very much alone,” she said.

  He saw it very clearly. She was infatuated with his brother because of some episode in her past that had meant less than nothing to Rafe, and everything to her.

  It was a tale as old as time.

  It made Drew want to slam his fist into the shed wall.

  “Please listen to me very carefully, Miss Penny.”

  By the mutinous tilt of her chin, he could tell that she wouldn’t listen, but he had to say the words anyway. “The Rafe you think you know only exists in your mind and your heart. You’ve fabricated him from lonely girlish longings. He would chew you up and spit you out. He would crush you and leave you ruined. He’s done it before.”

  “None of this is any concern to me,” she said breezily. “I’ve no idea why you’re speaking of it.”

  “Admit that you changed into this red gown for Rafe.”

  “I’ll admit nothing of the sort.”

  He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. He had to fight this surge of protectiveness, the need to warn her. She wasn’t his problem. She could throw away her virtue if she wanted to and it was no concern of his.

  But he didn’t want to see the light extinguished from her eyes. Or the smile fall from her lips. She had such nice lips, and her eyebrows were particularly appealing. They were always flying up when she spoke in such an expressive way.

  “You probably think that you can reform him,” Drew said. “Well it’s just not possible. He’s no half-hearted dissolute. He’s leapt fully into the hellfire. Find someone else to want, someone who will love and respect you in return.”

  “I’ll tell you what I want, Your Grace. I want adventure.” Her eyes glittered in the gloom. “I’m longing for it. I’m so tired of the humdrum, the predictable. I want my heart to beat faster, and my blood to rush through my veins. I want to take risks.”

  And I’m the exact opposite. I need routine, predictability. My blood is too icy to rush.

  He knew from personal experience that young ladies sometimes thought that wicked rakes were the answer to all of their midnight longings.

  “Miss Penny,” he said gently, touching her shoulder. “Let me make one thing very clear. Stay away from my brother. Do you understand me? He’s in some kind of trouble right now. He won’t tell me what it is, but that’s why I’m here—to drag it out of him and set about fixing whatever mess he’s made.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m still not sure why you’re speaking to me of your brother.”

  Smooth voice, not a hint of a telltale tremor. So that’s how she wanted to play this.

  He dropped his hand. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

  “None taken. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Her gaze traveled to the door.

  “You should change back into your other gown, Miss Penny, because my brother will not be making an appearance.”

  “Good evening, Your Grace.” She wasn’t a woman to heed warnings—he saw that as clear as day in the determined set of her jaw.

  If she wanted Rafe, she was damned well going to have him.

  She wasn’t his to save. All he could do was warn Rafe away from her, make it very clear that if he took advantage of her in any way, Drew would make his life miserable.

  “Good evening, Miss Penny,” he said coldly.

  He cloaked his fingers in white gloves and set off down the garden path back to the ballroom.

  He wasn’t here to save adventurous debutantes from their own worst impulses.

  He was here to protect his sister, rescue Rafe from his difficulties, and return to Thornhill with a sensible bride who agreed to a convenient, loveless arrangement.

  Or the bride business could wait another year and he could return alone.

  He just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been before he left Thornhill. He hadn’t had one of these attacks in years. He followed a schedule, knew precisely what would happen every second of every day.

  The right bride would only make a small ripple in his life. No waves. Nothing to engulf or destroy the tenuous peace he’d finally forged out of the darkness and the painful memories.

  Miss Wilhelmina Penny was treacherous ground. She wanted to fling herself headfirst into life and damn the consequences. He should stay a
s far away from her as possible.

  I’m so tired of the humdrum, the predictable. I want my heart to beat faster, and my blood to rush through my veins. I want to take risks.

  She wasn’t only longing for adventure—she wanted love. That’s what ladies meant when they said they wanted their heart to beat faster. They wanted to be swept away by love.

  He hoped she found everything she desired and never had to learn the hard lessons—the harsh lessons.

  Love was a false sense of security. Fathers refused to pay ransoms. Love offered no protection from the darkness.

  No one came to your aid.

  He had no one to rely on but himself.

  He was alone with his memories. Alone with his pain.

  He could trust no one.

  Chapter 5

  It seemed far away now, his loss of control. Green-striped silk lined the walls of the family sitting room. The walls weren’t closing in on him. The floor wasn’t swaying.

  The room smelled of lamp oil and their housekeeper’s lemon biscuits.

  His mother had gone to bed after the last guest departed, giving Drew the opportunity to speak to Beatrice about the letter.

  His sister sat across from him, her spectacles flickering with the reflection from the fire. She was so tall and so slender, her hair a pale shade of copper.

  He didn’t know how to talk to her. She was a stranger to him.

  “When did you grow up?” he asked her.

  “While you were gone for five long years.” She sipped her tea.

  Drew winced. He was drinking whisky. It dulled the scythe edge of rage that sliced through his mind every time he thought about Miss Penny going to all the effort of changing into a seductive gown for Rafe.

  “Why did you stay away so long?” Beatrice asked calmly.

  “Thornhill is the best place for me. I’m never at ease in London. Too many bad memories here. Too many gossips passing judgment.”

  “Memories of the kidnapping.”

  “Of many things.”

  “Why don’t you ever talk about it? It might do you some good to share the bad memories with someone who cares about you.”