Page 82 of The Untamed Duke
“Consider this your payment for the blooded stallion I’ve given you, as we were rather uneven before that. I have your required French letters in the drawer here. Or the sponges, if you prefer those. I’ll have to show you how to insert them…Now, across my desk, Grace. This instant.”
"I cannot."
“It will be the settee, then? I would offer the use of my bed, but I don’t bring my whores above stairs, you see.”
Grace clenched her teeth. “Iwillnot, Your Grace.”
An unholy light flared in Nicholas's eyes. His jaw tightened. Retrieving the cravat, he advanced toward her, working the buttons of his shirt free with slow, deliberate intent. The movement of his nimble fingers was memorizing. Grace sucked in a breath at the thought of them dancing across her skin.
"For Christ's sake, don't call me that. Not here. Not now." His face hardened as he stalked her. "Why must everything be a goddamn struggle with you, Grace? You’ve twisted and turned me inside out until I am no longer sure I'm doing your will or my own."
His words dissolved into a ragged snarl, directed more at himself than her. Grace trembled when he snagged her elbow in a less than gentle grip. His free hand, still marred from the fire, tilted her chin, and all she could think was how hot his touch was. As if he’d captured those flames within his hands.
"Don’t you want this? To be destroyed by me?” His fingers tightened for a brief second as if questioning himself, then slid with surprising tenderness over the curve of her cheek. “Ruined for any man who may follow me in your bed?”
Grace thought he would kiss her, but he did not. He stared down at her. Anger. Confusion. Terror. Longing. Everything lay bare in his emerald gaze until his lashes dropped and all emotion was shuttered.
Grace's heart soared. He was trying to push her away, and she could not let that happen. "Why do you fight me, Nicholas? Why won't you let me in? Why do you keep yourself walled off from me? From the world? This mask of cruel indifference, this heartlessness, it isn't truly you. I know it isn't." Her hand rose, covering his, holding it against her jawline. When he met her eyes again, she reached as deep as he would allow. "Let me in. Please."
Nicholas yanked his hand away. "I cannot,” he echoed her words, mocking them. The cravat was twisted until it resembled a garrote of sorts, the material stretching between his large hands as if testing its strength. It frightened Grace a bit. How he held that scrap of silk as if he intended evil things.
"If you will not let me into your heart, then I cannot stay.” Grace glided away, but he gripped her elbow tighter, the cravat dangling from his fingers.
"No. You will stay," Nicholas muttered, his breath hitching in an unsteady rhythm laced with cruelty. "Five nights of my choosing, remember, pet? If I accept your flawed count, we’ve had four. You will give me this last before I let you go. After all, your estate depends on it.”
"You don’t mean that, Nicholas.”
“Don’t I?” His chuckle sounded almost tremulous. Did he think he could bury his feelings under a blanket of ugliness, hoping it would repulse her?
“Do you recall your vow you would never harm me? That our time together would only be pleasurable?" Grace asked softly. "You would break both those vows. Admit what is in your heart—and I will give you everything you desire."
“I have no heart, little bee.” The curve of Nicholas's mouth was a confident, cruel smirk. "And a lack of pleasure is not possible when we are together. This time will be no different. Even if you are unwilling now, you soon won't be. If past experience holds any weight, I’ll have your legs shaking within seconds. You’ll be hoarse from screaming my name."
Grace regarded him with such solemnness, Nicholas's smile lessened. Her barely audible words drove it away entirely.
“And I would hate you for it."Don’t do this to us. To me. Love me, Nicholas, and let me love you.
Nicholas released her so quickly, she stumbled, banging her hip against the corner of a marble inlaid table.
"Go, then!" he hissed between clenched teeth, throwing up an arm in a dismissive gesture. "I find myself weary of your company, after all. You’re too much goddamn trouble as it is.”
Grace sucked in a deep breath as Nicholas whirled away, hurling the cravat onto the desk. He splashed a generous portion of whiskey into a tumbler, downing it in one swallow. Then, foregoing the civility of the glass, he tilted the bottle, drinking the remainder of it until it was empty. The long, noisy event ended with a swipe of an arm across his mouth and a sneer of contempt.
“I prefer my whores less demanding. Even highborn ones like Lady Ralston know their place and what pleases me. If you cannot do the same, my use of you is at its end.”
The angry, wounded beast within him was roaring, crazed with internal pain and confusion. There would be no soothing of him. No soft words, no gentle caresses calming his soul. Whatever tortured him was stronger than desire. But that hold was weakening. Nicholas wanted her. He was trying his damnedest to save her from his darkness. Somehow, she'd wiggled into his heart; the realization filled her with both joy and dread.
It enraged Nicholas.
Seeing Grace’s eyes lit with an ill-concealed sorrow, his temper abruptly exploded. He slammed the empty tumbler down, splintering glass echoing like a gunshot. His growl was something wrenched from the depths of his own personal hell, the deepest, blackest cavern of his soul.
"Goddamit. If you won’t spread your legs for me, use them to get the fuck out of my sight.”
As Grace stared in dazed silence, Nicholas hissed another muttered curse, snatching up the discarded cravat. Blood ran in tiny rivulets down his wrist, trailing along the underside of his forearm in bright red ribbons. He plucked out the shard of glass piercing his burned palm, then wrapped the silk about his hand.
“Nicholas…the contract…I—”
“Get out of here, Grace,” he snarled. “Get out, and don’t come back. I cede the last night of that goddamn contract. I’ll give you everything. All of it. Just go. The night of the fire, I said I would request a favor of you one day. This is it.” He enunciated each word so she had no difficulty understanding his meaning. “Get out of my life. Before I destroy everything kind and good inside you. Before I turn you as black as my own soul. You don’t need me to be happy. Or successful. You can do it all on your own...you and I both know you can.” He rummaged about the desk, found what he was searching for, and thrust another piece of paper into her hand before presenting his back.
