Page 49 of The Untamed Duke
There was a rustling noise as Grace gathered herself, then, incredibly, her slender arms wrapped about his waist. While he stood, trembling like a blooded stallion presented with a mare in heat, she embraced him, her hands moving up and spanning the breadth of his shoulders. Standing on tiptoes, her mouth pressed the middle of his back, the heat of her lips burning through the linen shirt. Nicholas’s eyes snapped open, realizing her actions. Her quiet offering. He swore her tiny hands traced every single lash mark scarring his back. As if she were memorizing them.
“I don’t know why you’ve lost your temper, but I shall do as you ask. Even if under protest.”
Her mouth was surely branding him, searing his flesh with secret symbols proclaiming to the world he belonged to her and she to him. Nicholas shuddered, his response intentionally harsh. “I haven’t yet lost my temper. I am keeping it locked tight, but if you are still within reach within the next ten seconds, you’ll witness it for yourself. Now, do as I say.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” Grace’s lips touched him a second time, a whisper escaping her, then she was gone.
Only her sweet perfume lingered in the air when Nicholas turned. Righting the upended chair, he sank into it, leveling both elbows on the table, head buried in his hands.
Grace was fast becoming an addiction. A craving. Something he could not slake. No matter how many times he tasted her, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. And when he had more, he wanted more still. He wanted her until he possessed everything that was her.Allof her. She was a definite threat to his sanity. Dangerous. Not just because he found himself counting the different shades of gold in that mass of hair or because her skin was creamy silk. Or because she was so warm and soft. Nicholas marveled over the difference between them. He was a chunk of ice attempting to embrace the sun.
Her eyes were entrancing, the color of caramel. Or honey or whiskey, or whatever it was that made them something other than plain brown. But he didn’t like the way she looked at him, as though she could see straight through him. No. That wasn’t quite accurate. Hehatedthe way she lookedintohim, into his very soul, terrifyingly deep and unblinking, searching out his secrets.
A grimace of disgust slipped over his face. Yes, everything about Grace was wrong. And yet, when he kissed her, it felt right, her mouth full and always smiling. When he held her, it was as though all the pieces of a puzzle had slipped into place, his hands curving into the spaces of her body as if she was custom made to fit his fingers. And she smelled perfectly right, all sunshine and lemons and wild heather. God, she tasted even better, like honey wine on his lips.
But she was wrong. He was wrong. And they were wrong together.
It was only a matter of time before it all crashed down.
* * *
Grace tookhis advice to heart. Nicholas did not see her for the rest of the day, although he inquired of her whereabouts sometime in the afternoon.
“The sweet dear is curled up in the library, Your Grace,” Martha informed him with a tsking sound. “Surrounded by books, she is. Milady has a hundred of them stacked up. I took in a spot of tea and a pair of slippers one of the upstairs maids lent her just now, and she seemed quite surprised by the watercress sandwiches. Naturally, I explained you sent a lad sent into the village to procure some, seeing how she likes it so much.”
Martha ignored Nicholas’s scowl and continued. “Your collection of books has left quite the impression on the miss. She said she intends reading all the ones pulled from the shelves, and the next time she comes for a visit, she will choose just as many, and so on, until she’s gone through every single book you have.”
“Humph.” Was all Nicholas offered in light of the housekeeper’s report. There would not be a “next time.” Not if he could help it.
“May the lady take a few books when she leaves, Your Grace? She says there’s nothing left to read at Bellmar Abbey. Seemed quite disheartened about it.”
Nicholas only stared at the elderly woman until she favored him with a frown, muttering something about stubborn dukes beneath her breath. She left him standing outside the door of his study.
That was hours ago. He’d spent that time pushing around a pile of papers, unable to focus on them. It was only when Teaks announced supper that he realized evening had approached.
During the long, solitary, boring day of avoiding Grace, one stark fact became clear. As distracting as it was being around her, it was far worse knowing she was only a few hallways away, and he was the sole reason the pleasure of her company was denied. Several times, he actually jerked open the door with the intent of invading his own library. Each time, he drew up short.
Seeking Grace out would only result in a repeat of that morning’s incident. He would kiss her. Or worse. It was a fine mess he could not allow right now. Best he kept his distance, but still, a groan escaped him, remembering how he pinned her against the dining table. He wasn’t sure of all he’d said, so overcome with lust and heat and want that the words flowed from him like lava from a volcano - none of it anything a gentleman should say to a well-bred young lady.
Grace needed to go home. Shewasgoing home, bad roads or otherwise. Surely, the bridge was passable by now. Arrangements were already made for a rider to investigate the conditions the next morning, and upon the man’s report, she’d be bundled into one of his carriages and sent on her way.
Thoughts of her leaving sent a shiver through him. They shared a dangerous attraction. Grace seemed as fascinated by him as he was by her. Nicholas was having a hard time making sense of his emotions. It was a struggle, controlling them and himself. It was frightening, how easily he lost control with her.
Stay to the bargain,he admonished himself.See it through, satiate my hunger, consume her innocence and fire. I govern this situation, not her. Damn everything else, and take my pleasure
Then let her go.
* * *
Grace peekedinto the dining room. She could not tear her eyes away from the table where she’d found herself and her entire world upended over the duke’s knee. She still could not believe he’d done that. Her brain could not fully comprehend it, and every time the memory flashed, she felt as if she were consumed by an invisible fire. It was insidious. Exciting. Disturbing.
“Milady?”
Grace whirled, hearing Martha’s courteous voice coming behind her. The elderly housekeeper wore a sweet smile as she reached out and closed the dining room door.
“I tried catching you before you left your rooms, but you’d already come downstairs. His Grace requested dinner on the west terrace. With the clearing of the weather, he thought you might enjoy it more…” Martha’s words trailed off, and Grace swallowed, imagining the woman’s embarrassment. Did everyone know what transpired that morning in the dining room? God, she hoped not.
“Oh,” Grace managed. “That sounds nice.”
