Page 59 of The Untamed Duke
Chapter 23
Ifling her amongst the stars
Watch as she commands adoration
From angels
From devils
And monsters like myself
~Nicholas August Harris March
Ninth Duke of Richeforte
Takingthe teacup from Grace’s hand, Nicholas placed it on the table. The motion afforded a bit of space between their bodies, a kindness he could afford extending. It allowed breathing room so she might fully comprehend his words. He meant what he said. He was staying the night.
His eyes strayed, touching on her long legs, encased so deliciously in those blasted breeches. He wanted to snatch her up and peel them away from her body. Rediscover the soft flesh behind her knees and the tender expanse of her inner thighs. He wanted her sighing his name, then sobbing it aloud as his mouth reacquainted itself with the sweet, hidden fruit tucked away between her legs. Seeing the bracelet on her tiny wrist affected him more than he thought possible. He liked the idea of encircling her. With jewelry and delicate bands of gold. His hands. His body.
He'd missed her. More than he should admit aloud.
Taking a deep breath, he settled back beside her, and God help him if his cock didn’t immediately jump. She smelled heavenly. Like the wild sea and heather, the earthiness of horses.
This was how Sebastian and Ivy found them. Nicholas wondered if his old friend’s hostile reaction would have been any different had he entered the parlor just a few moments earlier. When he nearly had Grace in his lap, lips planted firmly on hers.
“You goddamn bastard,” Sebastian spoke from the doorway. Ivy’s tight grip on the earl’s shirtsleeve restrained him from storming into the room. “Move away from her this instant.”
Nicholas’s grin was cold. He felt Grace shiver. She shoved the box and ribbon deep into the seat cushion behind her. The bracelet was hidden under the cuff of her shirt sleeve. She was worried they’d been discovered, but Nicholas suspected her involuntary shudder was caused more by the icy shift of his demeanor.
“Good morning, Sebastian. Lady Ravenswood.” Nicholas moved not an inch from Grace’s side. Instead, he slid closer, inclining his head as if imparting a secret. “Your cousin does not care much for me, my dear. You must forgive his surliness. In fact, it’s best he is ignored altogether.”
Sebastian’s features darkened, straddling a dangerous precipice: murder or restraint. Somehow, he made it past the threshold with Ivy clinging to his arm like a tiny wildflower attempting to ensnare an enormous oak tree.
“Why are you here?”
“He’s interested in breeding mares—” Grace blurted out.
“I’m looking at buying a colt—” Nicholas drawled at the same time.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed at the conflicting statements. The heated tension in the room rose by at least another hundred degrees.
Nicholas was not deterred. With a smile certain to incense the other man, his arm came up and draped casually across the back of the settee, dangerously close to Grace’s shoulders. His ankle crossed over the opposite knee as if he intended on staying for a long time. Of course, that was the plan, but Sebastian did not know that. Yet.
“Which is it?” Sebastian snarled. “Breeding or buying?”
“Depends.” Nicholas smirked. “I’ll consider the better offer. Although I’m more interested in breeding now that Lady Grace has made the option available.”
Sebastian shook free of Ivy, crossed the space, and gripped the front of Nicholas’s shirt tight in his fists. The table tipped, spilling scones, tea, and sausages onto the carpet.
“You bloody degenerate,” Sebastian growled. “Do you think I’ll stand idly by while she becomes one of your whores? I’ll finish the task I started and kill you
myself—”
Before Sebastian could finish the sentence, Nicholas reversed their position. Standing behind the earl, a forearm pressed along the back of the man’s neck, Nicholas wrenched Sebastian’s arms high into an unnatural position, locked in the middle of his back. Nicholas held them there in a relentless, one-handed grip.
Ivy cried out a warning, reminding them all of the gunshot wound Sebastian had only recently recovered from. His own aunt, in a state of unfortunate madness, had shot him only months before. Grace sat as if struck by a sudden ice storm, frozen in place.
“First and foremost,” Nicholas said in a low, amicable manner, loosening his grip only slightly in deference to Ivy’s plea. “Do noteverrefer to her in such a manner again, or I shall rip out your heart with my bare hands. Second, like you, I also learned rather unorthodox methods of combat while abroad. As you can clearly see. And third,” his voice dropped even further until it was a dark murmur, “do you think I’ll complacently allow you another attempt on my life? You had your one chance at that, friend.”
