Page 31 of The Untamed Duke
How she lay there, calm, bare as the day she was borne, while he roamed her body with his freezing gaze, touching her with his hot, hot hands, she did not know. If only the Earth would open up and swallow her whole. Or at the very least, open and devour him.
"You need sleep,” he echoed.
"Yes. Upon my return to Bellmar Abbey tomorrow, I shall be breaking in a new colt. A strenuous undertaking, Your Grace. Dangerous. It requires all of my concentration. You understand, I'm sure."
Flexing one foot, her toes curled in a subtle testing of the knotted silk. Bloody hell. Although not tight, there was little chance of wiggling free. Why that strangely excited her, she did not understand.
"Breaking colts." His voice was sharper than splintered glass.
Grace frowned. "Yes. Breaking colts. And settling in a few mares arriving from Ravenswood. I'm sorry, is there an echo? I swear you are repeating my every word merely to irritate me."
Nicholas's mouth opened, then snapped shut. He considered his options while Grace suppressed a tremor. Perhaps overtly antagonizing him was unwise...at least while she lay in such a vulnerable position.
In a level voice, as though being lashed to a duke's bed was an everyday occurrence, she said, "Your Grace, if we may be blunt with one another, something greatly disturbs me, other than the barbarity of your actions thus far. We only struck our bargain this evening, but you vowed the use of certain devices, which prevents a pregnancy during the undertaking of our contract."
Grace's cheeks flushed scarlet, denying her affected casualness with her present situation. This breach of terms would surely result in her freedom. Even Richeforte, for all his renowned wickedness, would not be so cruel as to break his vow on this important point.
Her remarks apparently amused him rather than bringing him back to civilized behavior.
Smoothing his face into a pleasant mask, Nicholas trailed his fingertips up, skimming the indentation of her waist. As he stroked, Grace didn't know whether she should melt or jerk away.
"I asked before if you were in possession of these devices. You did not answer." It was difficult keeping her wits in place when he caressed her like that. His touch burned like fire. "Do you carry them with you?"
"I do not keep French letters here, nor sponges. I shall obtain them in London." Nicholas’s head tilted, lips quirking with a smile. Those twin dimples flitted into view and disappeared just as quick. "We shall manage without them."
She squirmed. "Your Grace. Y-you promised. You gave your word. When I presented the bargain to you, it was my greatest concern, and you assured me...you cannot mean to—you can't..."
Nicholas laughed softly. "Not having such things immediately at hand has no bearing on our beginning. I have every intention of adhering to my promises if you do the same. Now, shall we get on with it, as you insisted with such eloquence? I should hate keeping you from your rest."
He sat on the bed next to her hip, facing her, and Grace's reaction was instant. She shrank away, as far as the restraints would allow. However, her eyes refused to unglue themselves from the golden expanse of Nicholas’s chest, sliding down in an unconscious caress of the rippling slabs of powerful muscles defining his abdomen. The vast breadth of skin sprinkled with lightly burnished hair narrowed into a vee where it reached the top of his breeches. He was hard, unyielding and satiny all at the same time. She felt tiny and weak and helpless beside him.
Nicholas placed one arm on the other side of her body so he was braced against the mattress. Biceps bulging, he loomed over her, his face inches from her own, a wolf guarding his prey. Green fire glittered in his eyes.
"I'll not hurt you. As long as you do not struggle, there will be no pain. This night is for you. My pleasure exists in giving you pleasure." He paused. "If you will stay where you are, in my bed, at my mercy, I'll remove the restraints."
Grace hesitated, opening her mouth, then shut it. A tiny frown crinkled his brow, and she hated his little laugh of sudden understanding as something inside her unraveled.
He knew she did not want the cravats removed. The same sensation that gripped her when riding at breakneck speeds across open fields or deserted beaches seized her now. It was a wildness that sometimes caused a yearning to break into a frenzy of whirling limbs in the midst of London’s boring ballrooms.
She’d stumbled once upon a gypsy camp in her woods. Unable to tear her eyes away from the sensual display of the women dancing, she watched as they used their bodies in beguiling fashion, as though telling a story. For a fleeting moment, Grace yearned to join them—dancing for the drumbeat in her own head. The same drumbeat echoing now beneath her veins. She needed something she’d not experienced in a long time, a lack of power over her situation. A moment of letting herself free, allowing someone else the opportunity to decide matters. She’d taken care of things for so very long now. Taking over the responsibility for the stables after her father died. Caring for her mother. Selling horses and worrying over the estate and how she’d keep it running.
She was suddenly so very tired of being in control. What would it feel relinquishing that control? Tohim?
Restless for something beyond her understanding, she quivered. The very idea of his dominance excited her beyond comprehension.
“Do you want the restraints removed, Grace?” Nicholas asked softly, a note of curiosity in his voice. His gaze burned a hole through her, straight into her soul. “Do you want them removed?” he repeated when she did not answer right away.
“Yes! Wait—no.” They stared at one another for a long moment as Grace worked it out in her mind. What she wanted. What she felt.Howshe felt. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. Just...my legs. Untie my legs.”
With just a simple command, she felt infinitely lighter. And powerful. Control was wrested from the duke in that instant. He would release her if she wished. He would restrain her if she wished. He would do whatever she wished. At least in this matter. His eyes, glowing bright green, told her he knew exactly where the balance of power lay. In Grace’s tiny, inexperienced hands. And Nicholas would guide her if she allowed this to continue. If she let him, he would help her make sense of it all.
“Can I touch you? While you are lashed to my bed, unable to escape?” His voice turned raspy, a dangerous edge seeping through that made Grace shiver even while she nodded consent. But her nod wasn’t good enough. He pushed for more. “I’ll have your words, pet, telling me you want what I’m about to do.”
“I don’t know what you are about to do,” she replied honestly.
“You have some inkling. Words, Grace. Now.”
“Yes,” Grace stuttered, turning pink with helpless embarrassment and a strange heat warming her. “I want... this. Like this. I don’t know why, but I do and—”
