Page 87 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
As he helped her up, his chest heaved, and she pressed a hand to feel his racing heart.
Tucking himself back into his breeches, he fixed her with a hot stare.
“Duchess, I believe I shall ruin you in the carriage after all.”
“You wish to leave the event?”
“Oh, no. I have looked forward to this. I want to leave you aching. I want to leave you wild with desire. I wish to look at you every moment and know you are desperate to leave, desperate to have me. Wondering whether I will choose my tongue or my fingers in the carriage.”
He stepped closer, grasping her chin roughly, before he kissed her breathless.
When he pulled away, she was dizzy, and her knees ached blissfully.
“The way you spoke to Lady Bastian is how you must speak to everybody who dares say anything against you. I will not stand for it, and I am glad to see you will not.” He all but growled the words, and she nodded, pulling him down for another kiss.
He wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her flush against him.
“I am enamored with you, Duchess,” he murmured, parting from her mouth. “I am still working out how to tell you, in all the ways I wish. Please be patient with me, as I am with you.”
“I will,” she whispered. There was something in his eyes that she could not understand. “You have your secrets. And I will wait for you to be ready. It eats at me, Alexander, but I would rather keep your trust and wait for you to tell me yourself, in your own words.”
He nodded, taking her hand to tuck into the crook of his elbow. And although she meant her words, she also could not help but wonder if there was any truth in Lady Bastian’s words about her husband.
Hadhe killed anybody? It would certainly make sense as to why Tessa thought he was dangerous. And why had he frequented gambling hells without telling her when he was starting to know, had already known, what she had endured with her former husband?
Her mind spun with thoughts but when Alexander met her gaze before they emerged back into the gallery, she pinned a smile on her face.
I will find out when he is ready, she told herself, although she itched to know more.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“By the gods, Bennett, you lucky bastard!” one of the men laughed, slapping the table. “I’ll never hear the end of it from you, will I?”
The familiar weight of The Raven’s Den settled over Alexander as he pushed open the heavy, creaking door, two days after the art exhibit.
The low murmur of conversation greeted him, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across the room, but tonight, there was a warmth in the air, the kind he was more accustomed to.
He paused just inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim glow.
To the left, a group of young men were clustered around a card table, their voices rising in playful taunts and challenges.
One man, a tall, gangly fellow with a wide grin, had just tossed a handful of coins into the pot with a dramatic flourish, only to win the round in a way that had his companions groaning in mock frustration.
Bennett shrugged with exaggerated indifference, his grin never wavering.
“Luck’s a fickle thing. Best not to question it, mate.” He leaned back in his chair, his hands raised in feigned innocence, while the others picked up their cards again.
As Alexander moved further into the room, he caught the eye of Horace Matthews, who was overseeing the scene with his usual calm demeanor.
The older man gave a slight nod, his ever-present air of quiet authority softened by the jovial atmosphere.
“Evening, Your Grace,” Horace greeted, stepping away from the far corner where he’d been chatting with a few regulars. “It’s a good night for cards, if you’ve a mind for it. We’ve a few gentlemen here who might challenge you.”
Alexander couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “My luck’s never as good as Bennett’s, though I’d be happy to test it.”
Horace chuckled, casting a glance over to the young man who had just won. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss him. He’s just on a lucky streak. Most of them know better than to get cocky.”
Across the room, the sounds of a dice game reached Alexander’s ears—laughter mixed with the clink of the dice tumbling in their cup.
