Page 4 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke (Marriage by Midnight #2)

CHAPTER FOUR

D amien Beaumont, Duke of Redmane, walked away from the explosion of whispered gasps and stiffened spines with the calm detachment of a man leaving the scene of an inferno.

He did not look back. There was no need.

Every meaningful gaze had been precisely where he’d intended—on her.

He moved through the throng with a smooth, gliding gait, not so much walking as slicing through the crowd. He stopped beside a lady without a partner—young, fresh-faced, hopeful. She’d never forget that he had chosen her. He would never remember.

“May I?” he asked silkily.

Her gasp of assent was all but unnecessary.

He danced. He smiled. He charmed, flirted, murmured little compliments, played the perfect host. And all the while, his awareness never shifted far from her . Emmeline Montrose.

His Emmeline now.

She stood stiff as a pin, delicious hazel eyes and auburn hair rendered even more striking by the paleness of her flush. But every time his hand slid around another feminine waist, he felt those eyes graze his skin like a brand. Even when she looked away, she was watching. That, too, had gone precisely to plan.

He had studied her far before this night. She was clever. Calculated . She had chosen him, of all people, to be the ghost haunting her scandalous fictions—and she’d thought him too unbothered to respond.

But the emergence of that gossip had presented him with an opportunity. One that he could not pass up.

A courtship born from gossip. How poetic. How efficient.

And how very convenient.

All that had not gone to play, however, was how vividly he remembered the feel of her against him. The way her breath had caught when his hand settled at the small of her back. The rasp of her laugh, her faint rosewater scent.

She is not the plan , he reminded himself.

But his blood did not listen.

After playing the gracious host to perfection, Damien quietly took his leave, seeking solitude. As he left the Grand Hall and strode along the corridors of his abode, he became all too aware of quick footsteps behind him.

He did not turn.

“You followed me,” he said quietly.

The scent struck him first—rosewater and fury. Then the voice.

“I believe we can dispense with the niceties, Your Grace,” she said, each word sharp enough to draw blood. “Would you care to explain your actions earlier?”

He pivoted, slowly, like a man with all the time in the world. His gaze caught hers and held. “I take it then that wasn’t your desired outcome.”

“No, I have never sought marriage to any man. Least of all, a perfect stranger!” Emmeline replied hotly.

“And yet, you spread rumors to the contrary,” Damien finished. “How curious , the female psyche.”

Emmeline glared at him, and he marveled at the ferocity of her gaze. This was a woman of such strong will and courage.

But I must not fall under her spell. Focus on the plan.

“I cannot deny it. I apologize for using your name and reputation, but it was not to entrap you into marriage,” Emmeline finally confessed.

“Was it not? Then, pray tell, what was your objective?” Damien replied, stepping closer.

Now that she had admitted it, anger flared bright again—as the first time he had caught wind of the rumors. He realized that part of him wanted her to be innocent, to be separate from the scheming politics of the ton.

It seems she was not. She was just like them. How utterly disappointing.

“I... I ... it is difficult to explain in a way you would understand,” Emmeline stammered.

Damien laughed, knowing that it sounded cruel.

“So, it was just the taradiddles of a rather impudent chit. Just as I suspected.”

He turned on his heel, but she caught his wrist, yanking him back to face her.

“ Impudent chi t?” she hissed, eyes ablaze. “You know nothing of me, and yet you think yourself worthy of passing judgment? Do you think I spread those rumors for idle amusement? You haven’t the faintest inkling of what I carry—what I shoulder for my family daily. I may not be heir to a Dukedom, but I am treated as though I am. I daresay I know more about balancing a statement of account than you do, Your Grace. That I am more expert in repairing a broken saddle girth or tending to a ewe in labor too.

“All while smiling prettily so the world doesn’t shatter around me!”

Damien found himself… staring. Wordlessly, at eyes dark and ferocious with anger, staring and drawn like a moth to a flame. He had moved closer to her against the will of his conscious mind.

Her eyes blazed, and her bosom flushed scarlet. Her chest heaved with her passion, and Damien suddenly thought that this might be how she would look in the throes of a passion of a different kind.

“And how else would you expect me to respond to being paraded about as your secret lover?” he demanded.

She did not flinch. “A better man would have laughed it off—or ignored it entirely!”

“A better man?” His tone dipped to something dangerous.

“Yes!” she snapped, chin lifting defiantly. “A better man would not behave with such self-importance that he marches up to a lady’s father and announces that he has asked for her hand. Without courtship or basic courtesy!”

Am I angry or aroused? I have never been confronted in such a way!

“You deem it unfit that I pass judgment on you, yet you feel worthy of doing the same.”

“I judge based on the behavior I have seen,” she bit.

“As do I,” Damien smiled.

“And your response is to destroy the lives of people you do not know or care to know?” Emmeline shot back. “It is the response of a petulant child and one who has never been denied anything in his life!”

“You know nothing of my life,” Damien hissed now, “and I fail to see how an offer of marriage to escape the reputational damage of such gossip as you admit to spreading is ruining your life!”

They were closer now. Both were shouting. Both stared at each other with blazing eyes, ruled by their passions. Damien fought for self-control. He was torn between admiration for Emmeline's lioness courage, and ferocity and anger at her casual assumptions about his upbringing. His mind went to the scars on his back—the scars he shared with common criminals who received the lash for their petty crimes.

The sign of my shame. My secret! She is so quick to condemn but does not tell the truth about my brute of a father.

“I will not be found shouting at a woman in my own house,” Damien returned to a cooler tone, trying to rein in different passions that warred within him.

He turned away or tried to. Emmeline put herself before him once again. He turned away a second time, but she refused to let him go.

“You will not run away from me until I have your answers and an apology!”

But as she moved to block his path for the third time, her slipper caught the hem of her gown. She pitched forward with a startled gasp as her arms flailed gracelessly.

Damien caught her without thinking.

His hand snatched her elbow—but too late. The momentum dragged her forward, and she crashed inelegantly into his chest. He staggered backward from the impact, one hand instinctively locking around her waist, the other pressed against the wall now braced behind him.

She went still, her breasts pressed scandalously against the hard plane of his chest. One hand had landed on his shoulder, the other splayed—boldly—over his heart.

Her eyes lifted to his.

Their lips hovered mere inches apart. Damien drank in the gold-flecked depths of her hazel eyes and felt the whisper of her breath brush his skin. Her curves molded to his frame as though fate had arranged the fit. Instinct eclipsed reason.

With a low growl, he dipped his head and claimed her lips.

The kiss was sinful—teasing at first, as if savoring the anticipation. Then his restraint snapped. He deepened the kiss, hot and merciless, his tongue sweeping against hers as he hauled her closer, until there wasn’t a sliver of space between them.

She met him with equal fire—arching into him, her nails digging into his shoulder, before sinking her teeth into his lip with a force that had him flinching.

He drew back and was met with a slap that Emmeline seemed to put her entire body behind. She shoved him hard, stumbling away, chest rising and falling in furious, breathless waves. It was then that Damien heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Someone is coming!” Emmeline gasped in alarm, “You have destroyed us both!”

Damien reacted, seizing her hand and setting off down the hallway at close to a run. He reached a door and opened it, ushering her inside and then standing with his back against it, listening.

“I could have sworn she went in this direction,” a muffled sound reached them, and Damien recognized the voice of either Isaac or Jacob. He could never tell them apart.

“Try in there, brother,” came the other—they were never far from each other.

Damien looked down but saw that there was no key in the lock. He seized the doorknob, holding it tightly as he heard footsteps approaching from the door's other side. Then he felt someone trying to open the door. With all his strength, he held on, refusing to let the doorknob turn.

To be discovered now in a compromising position by those two, in particular, would mean his end . The end of his Dukedom!

“It is no use, Jacob,” said the first, “it will not turn. It must be jammed.”

“Let's try this way. I would like to know what games cousin is up to,” the other replied.

Their voices faded away along with their footsteps.

“You do not wish your own family to know of us?” Emmeline whispered in incredulity. “Yet you have insisted on marriage?”

“Not them. Only on my terms,” Damien muttered, still listening.

He cautiously opened the door, half expecting to see his cousin's grinning, scheming faces waiting on the other side. The hallway was empty.

“Perhaps I should go after them and tell them the good news?” Emmeline suggested.

She stepped to the door, and Damien slammed it shut. She reached for the doorknob, but Damien did not release it. Instead, he looked into her eyes as she placed her hand atop his.

“No,” he said quietly.

“Why not?” she replied.

“Because that is my will.”

“I do not bow down to your will, Your Highness, ” Emmeline scoffed, trying to wrest his hand from the door handle.

Damien found himself smiling as he resisted. Emmeline finally stepped back, breathing hard and red-faced. She glared at Damien, folding her arms as though to present a barrier against him. The sight of her so aroused, whether by anger or desire, did not matter; it was intoxicating to Damien. He lunged for her, taking his hand off the door handle, his lips seeking hers.

Caught by surprise, she seemed to surrender to the kiss for a moment. They spun through the room, arms going about each other and bodies clashing together to celebrate the force that pulled them together. Drew them together and bound them. Damien collided with a bookcase that towered above them to the height of a dozen feet.

It rocked slightly, and a book was dislodged somewhere above. Damien raised a protective hand to deflect the volume from striking Emmeline.

Another fell. And another .

Emmeline squealed as the rain continued from the rocking bookcase. Damien had each arm raised to shield them both, and she clung to him as though she were sheltering from hail. His footing became tangled in the books lying about their feet, and he lost his balance, falling heavily. Emmeline landed scandalously in his lap. The last book fluttered down, barely more than a pamphlet. It landed delicately on Damien's head, and Emmeline, breathing hard still, plucked it away.

“It appears we have made quite the mess,” she breathed.

“My butler will have a field day when he discovers it. I will blame a guest,” Damien waved away.

“Blame me,” Emmeline offered.

“That is courageous of you, but you do not wish to be the subject of Mr. Casey’s fury. I have never dared get on the wrong side of him, ever since childhood.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Emmeline felt right in his arms, as though she belonged there.

“I should not be straddling your lap like this,” she whispered.

Damien could see from the rise and fall of her chest that she was breathing faster and harder.

“It would be compromising to be found in such a position,” he agreed.

Emmeline put her hands against his chest to push herself to her feet. As her touch settled on him, her lips parted, and she gave a soft gasp.

“Oh my,” she whispered.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

He felt her fingertips linger on the muscle of his chest, and he wondered if that was what had startled her or attracted her. Women did find a well-muscled man attractive.

“You are built like some kind of Hercules!” she exclaimed.

Her face promptly flushed deep red.

“I’m sorry. That was very indecent of me. I do not know where that… I apologize.”

“Don’t be,” Damien said, quietly, “and I thank you for the observation.”

Never had he wanted to kiss a woman more than at this moment—never had he been so sure that she wanted to be kissed. Her honey eyes swallowed him. Her swollen lips invited him.

Damien leaned closer, feeling her breath on his skin. Then, a sound from outside disturbed them. It was a drunken guest staggering against something, furniture scraping and banging against the wall, followed by snorting. It shattered the moment.

Emmeline scrambled to her feet. Damien followed at a more sedate pace.

I must remember why I have chosen to marry. No, why I must marry. And it is not for petty infatuations.

“I am sorry that it has to be this way, Emmeline,” he said at last.

“Stop calling me that, please. Everybody calls me Emma ,” she said with a touch of irritation.

“Very well. It would serve my purposes if you would address me as Damien too,” he replied. “My, err, given name.”

“Would it then,” Emma said flatly, but spots of color in her cheeks betrayed her.

“It would. And I would like to take this opportunity to familiarize you with our marriage rules.” Damien rounded on her. “In public, you will be the Duchess in every way. And we will be seen publicly in many settings and occasions. In private, however, you may have absolute freedom, and I will not trouble you. You may see whom you wish and go where you wish. My home and estates will be yours to explore. There will be no children and no consummation of our marriage.”

Emma stared at him in disbelief. He steeled himself against that look, fighting all instinct.

I must be ice. I must be as hard as steel. I will not become tangled in a lustful affair. There is no room for it in my plans.

“And what makes you think I would agree to such a monstrous proposal?” Emma huffed indignantly.

Damien could hear the breathlessness in her words, see the slight widening of her eyes, and the partening of her lips. Those were signs of excitement, though she tried to control them. Damien found himself moving closer and saw the color rise in her cheeks. She was devastating and the signs of desire enhanced that beauty.

“Because if not, the scandal will destroy the family you are so determined to protect. I did not create this situation. However, I am offering a way out. But only on my terms.”