Page 90 of The Untamed Duke
“Ridiculous?” he scoffed, turning suddenly so she was against the wall. He set the lamp down and leaned into her. Grace felt the damp stone pressing through the shirt fabric. It was cold and hard in direct contrast to Nicholas’s searing heat. “You are a goddamn fantasy in my shirt and those damned boots, don’t you know that? With your hair all wild and your mouth bruised from my kisses. I want to make love to you.... with you wearing this…” He kissed her, tempering his roughness, his hand searching out her softness beneath the shirt’s fluttering hem. “I want you on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, you wearing this…” His fingers spread her folds, tangling in the patch of curls and tugging lightly. “I want to lick you here and then kiss you so you taste yourself on my lips while I make you come on my fingers. With you wearing this.”
He stroked her until Grace was gasping, clutching at him. When she tried writhing against his hand, he laughed, a sound so wicked, she groaned in frustration.
Nicholas abruptly stepped away. “You’re becoming insatiable, but I’ve honestly little complaint. Come now, I’ve a more pleasant surprise in store for you. And do not pout. I promise the wait will be worth it.”
Tugging her by the hand again, they continued until the corridor ended at an old iron gate. Nicholas removed a set of rusted keys from a hook and inserted one into the ancient lock. It opened as if by magic, with no groaning or protest of rusty, unused hinges. After passing through, Nicholas used the same key to lock it behind them.
“Why do you keep it locked?” Grace asked.
He slanted her a glance. “I’m a selfish man. What is down here is for my own personal enjoyment. And now ours together. Believe me, you will not want anyone stumbling across us when we are here.”
Grace raised a brow. “It’s the dead of the night. I daresay we are the only two people at Oakmont traipsing about at this hour.”
“You will be grateful for this gate and lock when I bring you here before afternoon tea and Martha sends a search party for us. Even if your cries of pleasure are richocetching off the walls, no one will venture any further than the gate.”
Eyes widening with his words and the picture they created in her mind, Grace followed him silently as he picked up the lamp and continued down the darkened corridor.
The long passage opened up into a large underground area the size of a small meadow. A clear, blue-green shimmering lake spread out before them, taking up most of the space. The same lanterns from the corridors also lined walls ringing the miniature, sandy beach. Somehow, and it seemed impossible, but the water glowed with a glimmering, turquoise sparkle, as if a thousand diamonds lined its shallow bottom and floated in the water. Big stones dotted the small lake, shaped like steps made for giants. They were an odd sight, rising above the surface in various depths. Dark and sleek, they glittered as if sprinkled with moon dust.
“Oh, it's so lovely,” Grace breathed. “How is it lit up like this?”
Nicholas shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is. Always has been. And it’s always the same temperature, like the most comfortable bath you’ve ever had in your life...not too hot, not too cold. No matter how much snow lays on the ground outside or how hot the summer is, it is always the same down here.”
He sat on the beach and removed his boots, tossing them aside along with the keys.
“What are the stones for? They are so big and almost seem to be laid in a pattern.”
“I don’t know the answer to that either. They are a bit like the giant’s road in Ireland. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. The road was created during a battle between two giants, and what remains looks like these stones. Some say this place was used for magic. That the nymphs and fairies, along with the spirits of the forest and the waters would meet here to make peace, to heal themselves after battle. For weddings and deaths and births. Are you taking off your boots?” He’d quickly lost patience with explaining ancient myths and rock formations while Grace wondered if fairies might be watching them now, peeking around the rocks, wings fluttering in a silent golden whir.
“Why would I take off my boots?” she asked, almost absently.
“Why do you think I would ask you to remove your boots?” Nicholas parried, standing up and gaining her attention. “Remove them, Grace. And your shirt. Correction.Myshirt.”
Grace sank down onto the sand. Her fingers trembled as she began unlacing the riding boots. Although the air was cool in the cavern, she wasn't chilled. No, she was very warm, shaking with thoughts of what Nicholas intended to do with her. And how much she wanted it.
Peeking up at him from beneath her lashes, she watched as he peeled off his breeches and his own shirt and promptly forgot to breathe. His body was truly a work of masculine art. Not that she had many male bodies to use for comparison. There was no fault to be found in the slabs of muscles lining his ribcage and abdomen, the sharp cut vee defining his lean hips. His biceps flexed in the lamplight, reminding Grace how he held her hips so tight in his hands just a few hours before. That strength was a powerful aphrodisiac; she felt dizzy just looking at him and the broad shoulders which still bore evidence of her fingernails, little half-moon marks gleaming dull pink on his bronze skin.
While her fingers fumbled with knots of the boots laces, her gaze traveled even further, down the impossibly wide chest, the bunching muscles there and the flat, copper colored discs of his nipples. His thighs were perfectly sculpted, unmarred, save for the wound caused by Sebastian’s pistol. On his back, the crisscrossing of white scars from his father’s riding crop gleamed in the lantern’s light.
On his temple and hand, the scars from the fire were dark smudges.
Grace’s heart swelled. With love. With shared pain. With sympathy and anger. She wished she could hurt those who’d hurt him. Make them suffer as he'd suffered. Make him understand she loved him enough to share his burdens with him. Have him love her enough to share them willingly.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Her eyes flew to his at the roughness of his voice.
“Like what?” she stuttered, tossing her boots aside.
“Like you want to heal me.” He strode across the sand, hooking his hands beneath her arms and pulling her up onto her feet. “I want you looking at me in an entirely different manner.” He began unfastening the buttons of the shirt, staring down at her face with the oddest expression. “We came here to make love.” Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, he whispered, “Shall I remind you what I’m capable of?”
Grace swayed against him as the shirt was drawn away. “I remember.”
“Good girl.” Nicholas’s eyes glittered, containing more light than the water behind them. Reaching out, he swept her hair off her shoulders so it lay in a waterfall down her back, and Grace’s eyes fluttered shut as he traced the line of her collarbone with his forefinger. “You’re so delicate. So sweet and soft. And yet, you face me with the bravery of ten men. No fear. No dread of what I might do.”
Grace allowed herself a tiny smile. “That’s not true. Most of the time, I am in a state of panic over what you might do.”
His finger circled her nipple, and as it tightened with his touch, Grace sucked in a breath, her eyes opening to meet his. “Are you alarmed right now?” His tone was deceptively calm, but she caught the tense undercurrent of it. He was as affected by her as she was by him, the fire between them burning so hot and so bright, it scorched them both.
