Page 30 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)
CHAPTER 30
I t was a private affair with a very exclusive guest list, but everyone who was invited had some standing in Society or at least some significant influence among the ton — and for a very good reason.
At the height of the ball, everyone gathered around for a message from their hosts, with many of the guests whispering, wondering what it could be about.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Colin’s voice was loud and clear and filled with pride. “We are honored that you have come here to celebrate with us tonight. As you might have noticed, my beloved Duchess and I are not exactly too fond of throwing such affairs.”
There was a slight ripple of laughter from the crowd.
“However,” the Duke of Blackthorn continued, “there are some things that cannot be kept hidden for much too long, so allow us to share with you our good news—the Duchess of Blackthorn is currently with child, and we shall be expecting his or her arrival in the spring of next year!”
There was a burst of applause and a number of awed exclamations.
“A child!” a viscountess gushed. “An heir for Blackthorn!”
“No doubt they spared no expense for this ball,” another lady remarked, nodding her head. “Now, if only my lord husband showed as much excitement about the coming of his heir during my pregnancy!”
Indeed, it could not be denied that the Duke of Blackthorn adored his Duchess beyond everything in the world. And the child in her belly? Why, it would only be the most privileged, most cared for infant in all of Society this spring! Everyone was quite certain of it.
As they walked around the ballroom, Phoebe could not help but fall back into her usual demeanor reserved for social functions. She graciously accepted and shared in the joy of her brother-in-law’s announcement, with nary a hair or a finger out of place. Her smile was just right and not overly bright.
She simply could not help it—old habits were very difficult to get rid of.
She was, however, far more relaxed than she usually was as she leaned into Ethan’s strength, allowing him to lead her around as they mingled with the other guests who shared in the celebratory mood.
“Your Grace, allow me to express my enjoyment of your book,” a voluptuous countess told her in a hushed whisper. “It was an absolutely scandalous delight to read!”
Phoebe smiled warmly. “I am glad you find it so, Lady Pelham.”
“My husband says it is absolutely ridiculous,” Lady Pelham confided. “But do not listen to him, I implore you—just the other day, I saw him locked up in his study with a copy of it. He has come out a bit changed, and I have you to thank for that, Your Grace!”
As the Countess happily bustled away to chat with her other friends, Phoebe shook her head and murmured, “I wonder if the change in Lord Pelham is a good one or a bad one.”
“I would say it is a good one.” Ethan smiled at her. “After all, the Countess seemed rather pleased with it, did she not?”
Phoebe chuckled. “When you put it that way, I suppose you are right…”
He gently patted the hand she had tucked in the crook of his arm earlier, his caress lingering sensually on her knuckles and the suddenly sensitive digits beneath her gloves.
“I told you I am right about a great many things,” he told her with a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows.
She met his smile with her own. “And I seem to recall telling you that I am right about a great many more.”
“Then I shall defer to your good judgment, wife,” he replied readily. “Who better to keep me on the straight, narrow path than my own angel? Although…”
Phoebe looked at him with a slight frown when he trailed off. “Although what?”
“Although I have to say I do like how much of a devil you are between the sheets.”
“Ethan!” she hissed, looking around in horror.
Goodness, if anyone heard them, they would probably think them the most lascivious couple alive!
“I do not care the slightest bit, Duchess.” He grinned impenitently at her. “I do so enjoy the process of corrupting you, bending you to my desires… as well as other things.”
Dear God in heaven, he just had to say that in the middle of a crowded ballroom!
Phoebe fluttered her fan a little more energetically even as she glared at her unrepentant husband, who continued to stroke her fingers most erotically.
Later , he seemed to promise. I will do much more than this.
And bless her traitorous little heart as it thudded in her chest, but she could not wait for it .
“Your Grace, allow me to share in the joy of your family at this delightful news,” a familiar, if unwelcome, voice interrupted her lust-clouded haze. “And also, I wish to convey how much I enjoyed your… little project.”
Phoebe felt her desire dissipate a little as she looked up and found the Viscount Dexford smiling at her, his eyes gleaming with something akin to malice.
“Ah… thank you,” she murmured. “The Duke and Duchess of Blackthorn will be happy to hear of it.”
Seeing her so dismissive of his praise, the Viscount’s smile seemed to stiffen, before he bowed slightly to her and wandered off to the balcony, pausing only for a while to snatch a glass of wine off the tray of a passing footman.
She felt Ethan’s displeasure coursing through him before she even saw it. When he tried to gently pull her hand from his elbow, Phoebe only held on tighter.
“Sweetheart, you should know that since you have already let me claim you, I am a very possessive husband,” he growled at her. “And if you are so worried about my taking other lovers to my bed, I must admit that the same goes for me as well.”
Phoebe smiled, leaning into the thrill of being possessed by him. Thoroughly.
“I am well aware of that, dear husband,” she murmured. “And I am not worried. It is all in the past…”
Oh, all right. She was not exactly truthful about that one.
“I cannot change the past,” he murmured huskily as his finger traced the curve of her cheek, wrapping delicately around that stubborn curl that always seemed to escape her coiffure. “I was who I was, but you should know that none of it matters now. All that matters is you and who I am now.”
Phoebe raised her eyes to meet his. “And who are you now, Ethan?” she asked him softly.
She was more than just worried . She lived suspended in mortal fear that one day, he would tire of the novelty of possessing her alone and would seek his pleasure with others.
That she alone would not be enough to satisfy his appetite.
And yet, he gathered her into his arms, pulling her into an empty hallway as he caged her body between his and the wall. His eyes darkened with the tell-tale signs of desire, the heat in them seeping into her skin.
“I am your husband, Phoebe,” he growled. “Do not forget that.”
He claimed her lips in a searing kiss, burning through her apprehensions as his tongue tangled with hers. With a soft groan of surrender, she flung her arms around him and kissed him back, entrusting her body, her soul, her heart to him.
His hand wandered from her neck down to the curve of her breast, while the other impatiently grabbed her thigh and lifted it to rest on his hip. Vaguely, she was aware of him dragging her skirt up, up, up… right before his fingers slid into her aching center.
Phoebe arched into him with a soft cry, burying her face into his shoulder as he stroked her wet folds.
“Oh God, you are so wet,” he groaned into her shoulder. “How can you walk around and be this wet, sweetheart? Let me take care of you…”
“But Ethan, the other guests…” she murmured, even as her body shuddered. “Yes, please! Do just that!”
“They are much too busy congratulating the happy couple,” he growled. “They will not be coming this way for another hour or so.”
If someone had told Phoebe a few weeks ago that she would soon find herself in an empty hallway, with Ethan’s hands under her skirts, between her legs, while a literal ball was in full swing, she would have declared them fit for Bedlam.
Now, as she clung to him, trying to stifle her pleasured cries with his jacket, her pleasure nearing its exquisite crescendo…
Well, she could hardly think of little else beyond his fingers stroking her wet slit.
And when his thumb pressed on that little pearl as his other finger slipped into her channel, she came apart with stunning force, like a great wave crashing against the shore.
“Oh God, Ethan,” she moaned into his shoulder, her body wracked with intense, little shudders as she sagged against him.
He chuckled softly as he gathered her in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her brow.
“One of these days,” he promised her in a low whisper, “I will show you just how thrilling it can be when there is a risk of someone catching us while I am buried inside your tight, wet heat, sweetheart.”
Phoebe moaned into his shoulder again, her body tensing up deliciously at the oath in his words.
“You are incorrigible,” she complained softly, her cheeks hot with embarrassment and passion.
He merely smiled at her, the promise clear in his eyes.
He was not joking.
“You better go before I do something else, sweetheart.”
Heat flared up in her cheeks. She knew without a doubt he would do it, too, the rogue. He would pin her up against the wall and have his way with her, and she would spread her legs for him because she loved everything that he did to her.
Even the most scandalous things she never dreamed of.
As she wobbled her way back to the ballroom, Phoebe could only briefly wonder if his roguish ways had corrupted her as well.
Strangely enough, she had no complaints on that matter.
Indeed, I have become as insatiable as him …
He did not want to let her go.
No, what Ethan wanted at that moment was to push her up against the wall once more and do just as he promised and sink himself into her hot sheath.
The feel of her channel clamping down on his finger as she came apart was enough to drive him into a crazed lust.
He wanted her, and he could hardly wait for this damned ball to end and he could take her back home and do exactly that .
But this was a ball thrown by his closest friends, and he could not be disrespectful and leave early. A quick glance at the clock on the mantelpiece told him that he had at least three more hours before it was considered polite to leave.
He smiled to himself at that. It was another manifestation of Phoebe’s influence on him. Had it been him in the past, he would have no qualms about absconding from a party much earlier than etiquette allowed. His friends, more than any of the guests, would understand him, too.
But he could not subject Phoebe to the same.
She was his Duchess, his wife, and deserving of every bit of his respect as she did his desire.
He sighed as he breathed in the scent of her still clinging to his fingers, before turning to clean himself up.
Later , he told himself, even as the thought of her walking around the ballroom with her thighs still slick with her climax filled him with immense pride and pleasure.
Later, after this damned ball, he would take his pleasure. For now, he would have to wait.
He turned around to head off into the washroom when he heard the slight patter of slippers on the thick carpet. Moments later, a hushed voice called, “Your Grace!”
He turned around, the breath leaving his lungs when he saw the young woman standing before him.
It was Miss Marianne Delaney.