Page 39 of The Untamed Duke
Grace nearly bit her bottom lip in two, her thighs clenching together at the blaze of heat his words induced. She lifted the serving platter lid, revealing paper-thin slices of tender roast beef, flaky croissants and a bowl of fruit compote.
"Perhaps next time I’ll tie you up, Your Grace."
A flush of hot pink colored every inch of her skin left visible by the robe, and Nicholas’s eyes gleamed with surprise at her reckless statement.
"Careful, I may accept your offer. Although the idea of giving up control in any situation unnerves me more than you can possibly comprehend.”
He prepared their plates, refilled the wine glasses, and companionable silence fell between them as they shared the meal. When it was done, he leaned back in his chair, studying her features as though solving a vexing puzzle.
"You intrigue me, Grace," he finally admitted. "There are few women willing to sacrifice what you let go for the sake of a few horses and a house needing refurbishment."
She shrugged, a comfortable sleepiness creeping along her veins. It was the wine. And the cozy warmth of the large room. It explained why she felt at ease with him.
"It's my home. My fondest memories are wrapped in its walls, and I will love it until the day I die. The horses? They are a part of me. I am devoted to their care, creating something I’ll be proud of...that my parents would also be proud of, if they were still alive. Surely, you love Oakmont just as deeply."
Nicholas's brow furrowed. "It is foolish attaching sentimentality to such things. And you are wrong. I despise this house and everything it represents. The only pleasure I’ve gained owning it is knowing how it vexed my father that it would be mine.” A hardness overcame his features. “You should know, if I retain ownership of your Bellmar Abbey, I will sell it for as much profit as possible and do the same with your damned horses."
When he spoke of his father and inherited title, it was like being immersed in an Arctic chill. And beneath his cruel words, Grace caught an undercurrent.
It was difficult placing a finger on it. She sensed he merely repeated a mantra, one he'd told himself for years. An unaccountable sadness flooded her. This cold, cynical man was quite possibly the loneliest person she’d ever known. Why she was drawn to him would bedevil her for many days to come. Why she wanted to help him, she didn’t understand. He would destroy her. She knew this without a doubt.
Still, she couldn’t help herself, wishing she might heal him in some way.Foolish of me...wanting to show him kindness and understanding. Eventually, he’ll use that weakness against me.
When she refused acknowledgment of his plans, Nicholas pushed away from the table.
"You should return to your room now."
"Must I go?" She could not leave him just yet. There was no wisdom in her decision, but she wanted to stay.
He reached down, fingers on her elbow, hauling her against him. She was held prisoner with just that light touch.
"Should I lie and protect your delicate sensibilities? Or simply explain why you shouldn’t be here?" His gaze turned dark and secretive. "I think the latter will do. You are a naive, innocent little thing. You think since I've had an orgasm, I’ll keep my hands off you. However, nothing could be further from the truth." His gaze lighted on her mouth with unconcealed hunger.
"You will not find slumber in my bed, Grace. I will give you more pleasure than you can possibly bear. You think what happened before was intense? This would be much more...far beyond your virginal comprehension. My hands and lips will be on your nipples, our tongues mating as I kiss you as I like and wherever I please. I shall enjoy kissing you between your thighs the most, my tongue in your core until you come so hard, you can't breathe. I will lick you, suck you into my mouth until you have several climaxes, one after the other. That way, when I kiss you again, you’ll know your own flavor from my lips.”
His voice became rougher, his fingers unconsciously caressing her elbow in soft circles. "And when you are weak with satisfaction, mindless with pleasure, I’ll slide inside you, my cock driving deep until you quiver around me and I shatter inside you. And then? I’ll begin again by flipping you onto your stomach, gripping your buttocks hard enough that bruises in the shapes of my fingers form on your flesh. Deny me, and I’ll spank you until your skin glows red from the weight of my hand. I’ll lift your hips. Slide into your tight, wet channel from behind and fuck you until we are both senseless. Over and over until dawn arrives and this first of my five nights is well and truly done."
Grace's head tilted, a stubborn, speculative light entering her eyes. Her body was on fire with his descriptive words, a shameful wetness seeping between her legs. Nicholas, his breathing quick, stood rigid and tense, as though he might bolt if a hand extended toward him. She was reminded of a young stallion allowed free will for too long. They were the hardest to gentle, but once accomplished turned into the best of horses. Llyr was a prime example.
What would happen if she gentled Nicholas to her hand, her touch? She could bear the remaining nights if she controlled a small portion of their time together. There was the distinct impression the duke spouted such shocking things in hopes of frightening her. It was his way of keeping others from settling too close and peering too deeply into the depths of his soul. That caustic wit and surface cruelty hid a surprisingly gentle nature, she was sure of it. It just needed uncovering. Nurturing. Did she possess the courage required for such a task? Or was she mad even considering the possibilities?
Did she dare tame the Winter Wolf?
"The night is not over, Your Grace." Her chin rose. "I prefer spending the remainder of it in your bed. There will be no question I've upheld my end of the bargain."
With a deep, shaky breath, she brushed past him, dropping her robe before climbing into the middle of the huge mattress.
Nicholas wrestled with confusion. His hands clenched into fists and with the available light, Grace saw a muscle working in his jaw. Would he stalk over, snatch her from his bed as quickly as he'd thrown her into it? The thick air shimmered while he stood immobile with indecision.
Finally, with a muttered curse, he turned down the lamps until only firelight illuminated the room. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he discarded the robe, his lean, muscular frame shrouded in the darkness. Like the marble Greek statues in the Countess of Bath’s formal gardens, his firm buttocks gleamed white. He disappeared from view, then the mattress protested with a slight creak as he slid behind her.
Letting out the breath she held, Grace waited for his arms to wrap around her. Nicholas did not move. His stiff, unyielding demeanor confounded her.
Rolling over, she found him on his side, facing her, one arm folded under his head with a jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. He wore an expression of furious puzzlement.
"Won't you hold me as you did before?" Her hesitant question was a tickle of a whisper. She didn’t dare speak louder, suspecting Nicholas might leap from the bed if she made too much of a fuss.
"No."
