Page 14 of The Untamed Duke
“Watercress.” Grace regarded him as if he’d gone mad.
“Yes.” Nicholas’s eyes sparked. “Are you comforted by this? Relieved? Does this make me less a monster?”
“It should make you more so since I adore watercress sandwiches. A monster would hardly care if his victims lay drenched head to toe in it. However, you only prove the point, my lord. You can’t be that terrible if you worry for the victim’s dental health.”
“Ah, but their appearance must please me before I devour them. Even monsters have standards.” His gaze swept her, imagining her trussed and plated as the main entree on his dining room table. “A pity you like the stuff. Perhaps I’ll make an exception and expand my palate.”
Kissing her would help...maybe. At least he would discover the flavor of her mouth. He’d thought of little else since finding her on that gazebo floor. Abandoning all previous reasons for avoidance, Nicholas closed the distance between them.
Grace’s attention shifted to a point over his shoulder. “Oh, no.”
He clutched the waist of her coat in case she considered escape, then rubbed the garment between his index finger and thumb. The fabric was rough, a sturdy material often used for servants’ garbs, but the coat was modified so it fit her proportions perfectly. The same went for the breeches and the shirt. Seeing her atop a horse, one would think from she was merely a stable lad.
“Not a good idea,” she murmured.
“I agree.” Nicholas inhaled sharply, brushing his nose alongside hers. It was electrifying. Sparks practically ignited between their bodies. “This is a terrible idea. Because once I begin, I won’t stop. I’ll take all of you, even the pieces you don’t realize exist. I won’t stop until we are both ruined.”
“No, you see, oh. Goodness, he found—"
“Hush now,” he ordered. Her words made little sense.
Until they did.
Nicholas felt a nudge to his back.Bloody hell. Tristan.He must have stumbled across them. Or he intended meeting Grace all along. What a mess of magnificent, hellish proportions this would be.
With the second bump, he swung about, eager for confrontation. Two thoughts consumed him. Dispatch Tristan Buchanan. And return to Grace’s lips. Lips that beckoned him. Entranced him. Made him forget friendships and oaths and vows of avoidance; all those foolish promises he couldn’t possibly keep now.
It wasn’t Tristan confronting him, but Percy, the curved handle of a metal coal scuttle clenched between his teeth. Tiny grey clouds poofed in the cool air as he banged it back and forth with excessive glee, occasionally striking Nicholas in the chest.
“The scuttle,” Grace squeaked, peeking around him. “Oh, please! Don't grab—!”
When Nicholas reached for his bridle, Percy flung his head his, shaking the bucket as if it were a new toy. Soot exploded, coating everything in blackish grey.
An enormous cloud of ash billowed into the air when the horse released the scuttle with a snort of alarm. The clatter it created on the stone paved floor sent the gelding bolting sideways.
“—that,” Grace finished lamely. Nicholas’s broad back provided a shield from any soot landing on her, and she could not see the full effect of the gelding’s mischievous behavior as her explanation tumbled forth. “Percy adores anything he can pick up with his mouth. If you try taking it away, he thinks it is a game. That's what you overheard earlier. You see, he had my cap, and he’d already ruined one…”
The explanation trailed off as Nicholas slowly rotated. Grace gasped, her expression morphing from amazement into amused horror. From the top of his head to his untucked shirt hem, he was covered in soot, face and neck discolored black. In the midst of it all, his eyes were stark white orbs, the irises glowing with the darkness of the devil’s gaze.
He held his temper by the thinnest of threads as they stared at one another. Then, bubbling from this infernal creature came a sound that could scarcely be believed.
Laughter. Peals and roars of it. Grace laughed until she gripped her stomach, overcome by such hilarity, she couldn’t catch her own breath.
Grunting in annoyance, Nicholas reached out, but with a squeal of alarm, she ducked beneath his arm, escaping down the aisleway. He couldn’t chase her. Damned if he could see more than a foot in front of him, blinded as he was by soot.
“I’m sorry, my lord. So terribly sorry. Truly.” Grace caught Percy’s reins, the gelding nickering and bumping his head against her side while she wiped tears from her cheeks. Even the cursed horse was laughing at him. “You’d best hurry along to the kitchens and get cleaned up. Cook probably has just the thing to remove soot. And don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.” A giggle undermined the depths of her sincerity as she assured him, “It shall be our secret.”
She swung up on the horse, a delicate, purposeful motion highlighting the delightful curve of her arse in the tight breeches, and Nicholas nearly bit his tongue in two.
Thank God for small miracles. I’m not completely blind.
On the verge of combusting from fury, but not blind. He saw her well enough as she trotted out of the stables, out of reach, her spine perfectly straight. As straight as that braid of sunshine hanging down her back.
* * *
Grace did not seeNicholas again until teatime, but she thought of him incessantly during their time apart. How he looked at her, as is he might kiss her. The husky growl of his voice. The warning he wouldn’t stop until they were both ruined had the opposite effect than he probably intended.
Inside, she was screaming,Yes, yes! Ruin me! Show me what happens beyond kisses. The same as that between a stallion and a mare? Is it accomplished in a similar manner? Are men, their... sexes... do they become as large as horse when aroused? Surely, that isn’t possible. It would be entirely uncomfortable. Not to mention the difficulty concealing the proceedings...horse breeding is such a messy, ear-piercing affair. Everyone would know when a man and a woman actually…
