Page 30 of The Untamed Duke
Bloody hell. Who was he kidding? He didn't need an excuse. He'd do just as he pleased. She made the damn bargain; he’d see it through.
It was the first of his five nights with her. She would not soon forget it.
He abruptly pulled away, leaving her gasping. Without uttering a word, he rolled from the bed and stalked to the wardrobe room. Rummaging about in the dark for a few moments, he found what he needed.
Grace lay silent, twisting against the knotted silk until Nicholas emerged from the darkness, looking like the devil himself, two additional lengths of white silk dangling from each hand. A smile twisted his lips,
Her voice quivered. “What are you doing?”
"Finding these," he replied softly. While she watched in horrified fascination, his nimble fingers fashioned slip nooses from the lengths of silk.
"Wh-what do you mean to do?" Anticipating his answer, her legs clamped together, knees locking in desperation.
"Don’t worry. You will enjoy it." When he came to the end of the bed and reached for her ankle, she came alive, legs flashing with vicious intent.
"Did I say you could move?” he admonished, capturing one golden leg and looping the cravat around her ankle. Her muffled curses assailed his ears. Where had she learned such foul language? "Sshhh. Do not struggle, pet. You’ll cause yourself harm." The trailing end of the fabric was lashed around the bedpost.
Her other leg was secured with unhurried ease while her breathing revealed her agitation. But she had ceased struggling when Nicholas stepped back.
There was a prickling twinge at his own barbarity; Grace in his bed, tied to it, should have horrified him instead of exciting him. No doubt, should he release her at this moment, she would avoid crossing his path ever again. That was not something easily accepted. At least not yet. Maybe at the end of this arrangement, once he had his fill of her, he'd be pleased to let her go.
When he moved toward the top of the bed, Grace sucked in a breath.
Desire tempered the ice in his voice. "This shall be pleasurable, Grace. Fortunately for you, I do very wicked things and do them very well. Now. Shall we begin?"
Working silently, he smoothed Grace's hair into a damp curtain across the pillows. He drank in her glorious beauty. God, she truly was magnificent. Concealing such perfection beneath clothing should be a crime against the Crown. Her legs were so long, supple from riding horses, and her waist nipped in before the lines swelled outward in graceful curves, forming hips made for a man's grasp. High and firm, her breasts were exquisite …the perfect size to fill his hands, just as he imagined. Like confectionary embellishments, nipples a shade of dusky peach tempted him. They sat like perfectly formed, sweet little morsels, waiting to melt like sugar in the heat of his mouth.
Grace tapped into some manner of internal strength. Her breathing quieted, fists falling open against the silk. Relaxing her jaw, unclenching her teeth, her entire body stilled itself. A gleam of curiosity sparked in her eyes when Nicholas caught her gaze. It caused a hitch in his own breathing.
He examined the restraints on her wrists. He'd tied her in haste, with no hint of finesse, but he had no wish for the silk to cut her flesh. He did not want to hurt her; giving her pleasure, however, was a burning need inside him. And he did not wish she scratch his eyes out while he did so.
"What do you intend, Your Grace?"
She finally used his title? Now? Calmly demanding answers while tied up on his bed? He almost grinned at her fearlessness. Did she believe him capable of mercy? Or that she could manipulate him? He still wondered why he threatened her with Ravenswood’s discovery of this bargain. It was more to his own benefit it remain secret, but an unfamiliar desire to hurt his old friend had seized him earlier. Surely, Grace knew he would do everything possible in keeping their arrangement private. His very life depended on it, because he had no doubt Sebastian would kill him should he ever found out.
"Be quiet now." Stripping off his shirt, Nicholas was gratified when her breath snagged at the sight of his bared chest. A slash of red etched his stomach, and Grace glanced away, disconcerted by the wound caused by her fingernails.
Smoothing a palm along the underside of her upstretched arm until he reached the curve of her hip, Nicholas marveled over the silk-like quality of her skin. For someone who preferred riding horses instead of flitting around a ballroom, she was surprisingly soft. A deceptive illusion however; beneath all that feminine softness lay a flexible strength completely different from the perfumed, plush ladies of his experience.
"It will please me if you use my given name when we spend our nights together." His unmarked knuckles brushed along her cheek.
Golden eyes narrowed as an inadvertent way of vexing him was provided. Her lips curved with a hint of a smile. "That is not part of our bargain, Your Grace."
Nicholas cursed beneath his breath. This strange, willful little virgin was determined to disobey him. Astounding, really, considering she was at his mercy. How very like her, using his demand as a tiny weapon. But he found her defiance strangely adorable.
He resisted kissing her again because the taste of her in his mouth was too intoxicating. He wanted more. He wanted everything. He wanted to immerse himself in her, understand whatever it was about her that fascinated him. He wanted possession by her and possession of her.
"You will call me by my given name, Grace. Indeed, by the end of this night, you will scream it in pleasure."
"I hardly think so...Your Grace,” she replied with great deliberateness, tensing against the silk as he caressed her hip. "Might we get on with things? I've a very busy day tomorrow and will need some sleep once we are done."
* * *
Grace hidher nervousness behind a paper-thin curtain of nonchalance. She suspected fear, and perhaps even her anger, excited him.
Maybe calm acceptance would bore him.
Nicholas stared as if dumbfounded. If the situation were not desperate, she might have even laughed, delighted at stunning him into silence.
