Page 41 of The Untamed Duke
Two unchaperoned days in the Duke of Richeforte’s company was akin to a death sentence. "I’ve no choice, Your Grace. I dare not stay another night without a chaperone."
"Don't you know? My housekeeper, Martha, has not left your side from the moment you arrived," Nicholas replied with silky resoluteness. "Her reputation is beyond reproach. And she’s a bit terrifying as well. No one would dare question you staying here as long as she guards your innocence. It carries the same weight as if the dowager duchess herself guards you."
Grace swallowed. He decreed it, and it would be so. "Tell me, Your Grace. Are you so powerful, you always succeed in bending others until they believe a twisting of truth? Even if it is so far removed from reality as to be fantastical?"
"I am Richeforte," he said as if that was answer enough.
Grace realized now it was the standard answer when his motives were questioned. The all-powerful Duke of Richeforte did not explain himself or allow others to question his actions.
Holding such power did not please him, however. On the contrary, he was wary of everyone. Grace considered again her half-formed intentions. Taming Nicholas would not be easy, but beneath his caustic, snarling exterior something else lurked. Something wounded and tender and trembling for the slightest breath of kindness. She could give him that if he would only allow her in. She suspected much of the problem could be found in his upbringing, but there was little doubt that whatever occurred between Nicholas and her cousin was equally traumatic. And very bitter and very deep.
"Should Sebastian discover I’m here, regardless of whether I'm chaperoned or not, there will be the devil to pay,” Grace breathed. “And Tristan to contend with as well.”
"I shall deal with them." Nicholas's arm tightened. "Do not concern yourself over it."
"How can I not? I've no wish for discord, nor to be the cause of it." She waited a heartbeat, then hesitantly asked, "What is behind this bitter blood between you and Sebastian? You, Lord Bentley, and my cousin were once very close. Childhood friends before a deadly rift opened between the three of you. Won’t you tell me? Why you dueled?"
Grace felt the frost forming around Nicholas. Although he did not move a muscle, he retreated inside his iceberg, where she could not touch him.
"You ask too many goddamn questions about things which do not concern you."
She pressed on, undaunted. "I am a part of it now."
"They are two different issues. Do not combine them. Now, go back to sleep," he said against her hair, pressing surprisingly gentle kisses to the tangled, blonde mass. "Unless you care for engagement in matters I find more interesting. After all, the night has not truly ended. Not yet."
Grace grew still. Something within her reared its head in response to the soft challenge. Something dangerously wild, seeking pleasure from his hands, from his touch and his lips. From his tongue. A thousand blissful memories flushed her in a river of heat. She almost turned in the circle of his arms, almost reached for him.
If he does not like seeing the rain, why open the drapes? Why deny something so innocuous? Is he afraid of a connection with me?Why does he hold me like this, kiss me so softly? As if he is content in this moment?The sudden rush of excitement, the thought of sharing something so simple and perfect with him left Grace a little dizzy.Would a wolf allow me to hold him?
With a rueful stammer, she tamped down all the questions and hope bubbling inside her. "I will sleep, Your Grace."
"A wise choice." His soft chuckle tickled her ear as his arousal pressed her buttocks. "Although you challenge every ounce of willpower I possess, I will honor your choice."
* * *
Just before dawn,Nicholas carried Grace into the adjoining room, settling her beneath the bed’s coverlet. Rain still lashed the house, darkening the sky, but morning was fast approaching. With it came reality and all its terrible harshness.
"Don't go..." she murmured in sleepy protest.
"It's better this way, little bee." His fingers slid through her hair as she burrowed into the pillows, and before drawing away, he skimmed her furrowed brow with the barest of kisses.
I may be a bastard, but I’ll not have you discovered in my bed come morning.
He eased the room’s chill by rekindling the fire. When it was once again blazing, he found himself back at Grace’s side, drawn there by something unnamed. He couldn’t help himself. A perverse need to be near her swamped every intention of leaving. For a long time, he watched while she slept. When she sighed once, reaching a hand toward him, it galvanized him. Made him painfully aware of what he was doing.
He hastily made his retreat and did not look back.
Chapter 16
Lust overcomes my madness
She has become my moon
Howled for and to
Worshipped
Adored
