Page 12 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #2)

Chapter Twelve

“ I s there somebody at the door?” Veronica asked herself, bleary-eyed and fatigued from a nap, awoken by the rattling of the main entrance. She glanced at the footman outside the room, angling her head to regard him.

Her body bowed almost right off the sofa, having enjoyed some wine that had proven to make her a little boneless and flimsy.

She caught herself, giggling. “Oh, dear. Perhaps that was very good wine.”

“Shall I attend the door, Your Grace?” the footman asked.

“No,” she said, waving him off. “I shall go. I am lady of the household, and I shall greet my guest— Oh .”

She realized that it might be the Duke, returning. She had heard him leave some hours before in the late afternoon.

Veronica clumsily stumbled to her feet, wiping the dregs of sleep away from her eyes. The parlor around her was in disarray with the refurbishments, and she could hope the Duke would soon see her vision.

“I shall remove this for you, Your Grace,” a maid said, scooping up her wine glass and taking it away.

Veronica smiled as she ventured out of the parlor and towards the entrance hall. It was gaudy and garish.

I would like to give this hall a redecoration, too , she thought as she stumbled down the hallway, only to find the Duke shrugging off his coat. A footman took it as he dropped it into the waiting hand without even glancing back to check if anybody was there.

Of course, he knew there would be.

Veronica rolled her eyes as she swung her hips, sauntering forward.

The footman glanced at her with an uneasy smile as he rushed off with the coat, leaving them alone in the entrance hall.

Henry turned around and startled, as if he had not expected to see her there.

“Good evening,” she said, clasping her arms behind her back and swinging forward on the balls of her feet.

All day, she had not been able to get his eyes out of her mind. The dark glare, the hatred he kept within them, the short rudeness that still somehow ignited passion in her.

And the kiss… Oh, the kiss was something she had not been able to stop thinking about for days now.

Perhaps that is why I drank half a glass too many , she thought.

He did not return the sentiment of bidding her a good evening. Those dark eyes only turned on her.

“Why are you awake at this hour?” he glowered at her.

“Why have you returned at this hour?” she countered.

Henry gave her a once-over before shaking his head. “That is none of your concern.”

“Then it is none of your concern why I am still awake at this hour, either.”

He gave her a withering look. “The scent of wine announces your presence before your own voice does.”

“And you smell like a barmaid’s apron,” she quipped. “Perhaps we have both indulged this evening.”

Jealously curled in her stomach, entirely ridiculous and far too assuming. Just because he smelled of beer did not mean he had taken delight in every aspect of a village inn—for she assumed that was where he had gone.

“Was it the village inn?” she asked. “Mrs. Nelson informed me of some of the points around Westley. I am assuming it is where you found yourself deep in your cups?”

“Need I remind you of my prior warning, Duchess?” he asked, and the way he said her new title, with every inch of power and knowledge that she only held it because of him, had her stomach curling. “Stay out of my business.”

“Why are you allowed to ask of my whereabouts and happenings, but I cannot ask of yours? Is it because you feel entitled to know due to saving my mother and me from ruin? Because I guarantee you that does not constitute your right to know of my every movement.”

She refused to let him intimidate her, not even when he approached her.

Something crossed across his face as she tipped her head back to look at him. He was so tall, overpowering her in height and presence.

“I have warned you before of asking too many questions,” he warned her, his voice dropping so low that it curled heat through her. “And I will do it again if I must. Do not ask me questions again.”

“You are impossible,” she hissed.

“And I do not care what you think of me.”

Annoyed, Veronica resolved to return to her own chamber, but something pulled her back, making her turn back towards the Duke.

“I have noticed that you are avoiding me. Why is that?”

Henry ignored her as he walked past, scowling at her for a moment as he reached the main staircase.

He was already unbuttoning his waistcoat, and she could not help watching the muscles move in his back as he did so. A black shirt clung to his figure, and she found that if she looked hard enough, she could see exactly what shape he hid beneath.

A man of power and bulk—a man who was practically twice her height and build.

She swallowed but still followed him as he walked up the stairs.

“Answer me,” she requested, her voice firm.

She stumbled a little on the steps, her shoes catching on the new, pale blue runner. Recovering before he even noticed, she continued to follow him as he tried to retreat upstairs.

He turned onto the hallway before ascending another set of stairs that led to a hallway that their chambers branched off from.

“I do not have to justify myself to you,” he said, sounding apathetic, his voice flat. “I am a man, allowed to do as he pleases.”

“Am I not your duchess?” she shouted. “You promised me security, not a prison. I am your wife, and I do have a right to know where you have been.”

“This is not a prison,” he snapped. “And I will not explain myself in my own home.”

“It is my home now, too,” she reminded him, a bite in her voice. “Where you have been all evening, coming home smelling of ale so late in the night?”

At that, his eyes narrowed, an arrogant smirk on his face, as he leaned in to her just as he reached the top of the second staircase. She followed his movements, leaning back to avoid his closeness.

“Are you jealous, Duchess?”

She lifted her chin. “No. I am not.”

But her movement was too quick, her ego growing with her insistence to show him she was not affected by him, and she lost her balance.

Her heel slipped right off the top step, but before she could fall, an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto the steady ground of the hallway. She was quickly pressed to his chest, and she made a small noise of a struggle.

Her heart raced as she peered down at where she would have tumbled right down, likely hitting her head on the marble floor below.

Shakily, she looked back to the Duke, whose face had drained of color. His eyes were wide, his breathing more erratic.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice less controlled.

Veronica managed a nod.

“I am quite steady,” she whispered.

Their gazes did not leave one another’s. His panicked eyes looked over her, and his arm was still around her waist. Through her thin nightdress, she felt the silk of the Duke’s unbuttoned waistcoat, and she wanted to know how it might feel against her fingers.

The Duke pulled her further towards him, away from the stairs, so they were securely around the corner of the hallway.

I have never seen him look so distressed , she thought.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded sharply, and she expected him to push her away and retreat once again, the way he always did any moment they got too close, but the Duke stayed. He did not move his arm, and she felt the warmth of his skin through her dress.

Another beat passed, her heart still racing wildly. Her chest rose and fell with her own ebbing panic and shock of almost falling.

His eyes darted over her face, and she went to ask him what was the matter when he leaned in a moment later and kissed her.

He pressed his mouth to hers, pushing her back against the wall, his arm tightening around her waist. Heat climbed up Veronica’s stomach, but as soon as the kiss registered with her, he pulled away, his mouth parted.

He looked hesitant.

Please do not pull away , she silently begged.

But then he was kissing her again, looking for all the world like desire ravaged him, and kissing her would be his completion.

She moaned quietly at the intensity with which he kissed her. His body pressed to hers, and she arched into him at the coaxing of his arm, her hips flush with his. He inhaled a ragged breath through his nose when his tongue brushed her lower lip, and she parted her mouth for him, allowing him deeper into her mouth.

The slide of his tongue against hers was heaven, and her eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation of how the Duke kissed with every inch of anger he often reserved for her. As if he chased both desire and anger, pouring them both into her.

His hand on her waist, from the arm still wrapped around her, moved higher, brushing the curve of her breast, and she moaned softly at the teasing feeling when his thumb dragged over her nightgown, coaxing her nipple to harden.

As if her moan snapped something in him, the Duke pulled back.

“No,” she whispered, bemoaning the loss.

“Do not think I shall leave you with only a kiss. Not when you make noises like that for only this meager touch,” he told her, his voice rough as he teased her nipple once again.

Another soft sound came from her, and she watched his gaze go hard and dark, sultry, as he lifted his chin in order to tangle his fingers in his cravat knot.

“Tell me, Duchess,” he whispered as he began to untie his cravat, leaning in to press his mouth to her ear.

She angled her head closer to him as pleasure shivered through her.

His hand gripped her hip. “Has anybody gone to their knees for you before?” He spoke the words messily onto her skin, his fingers tangling in her unbound hair to pull her head aside to groan into her neck, pulling her flush against him.

A rough noise emanated from the Duke as he latched his mouth onto the sensitive skin, kissing his way up to her jaw before pulling back.

He yanked his cravat off, and the smile he gave her was positively wicked as he smoothed out the fabric between his fingers.

“Answer me,” he told her, his voice dipping dangerously low.

“I—” she whispered. “No.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Then allow me to be the first to show you how a man’s tongue will please you.”

Before she could ask how , that grip he had on her hip turned her around roughly, and Veronica found herself pressed with her chest to the wall, and her hips jutted out.

She heard him mutter a curse under his breath before he was pressed against her, his mouth hot on the back of her neck. She let out a soft groan as she tried to arch into the touch, but the Duke only grasped her wrists and yanked them behind her back, restricting her movement.

“Your Grace?—”

Silk wrapped around her wrists.

“Stop.” A harsh yank of the silk ends of his cravat had her gasping. “Talking.”

Indeed, following his orders, she did stop and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, her gaze heavy with desire. He met hers unabashed as she watched him fall to his knees behind her.

His eyes raked up the length of her body.

A duke… on his knees for her . The thought was heady, and her body tinged with what would follow.

“I knew you could follow rules with a little persuasion,” he told her, leaning in towards her body. “Veronica, you frustrate me. Every waking moment you are there, meddling and causing chaos and… giving me pent-up desires. And even when I am asleep, I dream of you, still. Perhaps I should keep you tied up like this if it allows me your silence.”

“I thought His Grace wanted to hear me,” she said, her voice shaky, but she felt daring.

Her hands were tied behind her back, and with his waistcoat hanging open and his collar undone, the Duke looked the picture of desire, and despite him being the one on his knees, his smirk told her enough: he was the one in charge.

“Be obedient to me, and you will get rewarded,” he told her. “And I shall hear you.”

She glanced around the hallways for servants. “But?—”

“I do not care about them,” he growled. “Do not hold back your noises for me.”

Before she could react to his order, his fingers landed gently on her ankle, and he lifted his hand further up her calf.

Veronica gasped at the position she had found herself in but did not want to fight back. Her shoulders strained at the ties around her hands behind her back, her fingers curling around the silk.

It was still warm from the Duke’s skin.

And the Duke himself… He had her nightdress pushed up to her thighs. Kneeling before her, he held her gaze for one more moment, and Veronica inhaled shakily.

“Part your legs for me,” he told her, his voice commanding yet softly spoken, a part of this seductive game.

Rough yet gentle yet hard, a combination of both sides that had Veronica’s desire sparking hotter.

She had not experienced pleasure before aside from her own ministrations. Her mama had taught her little, but she understood enough of how it worked.

But what the Duke intended, as he finally pushed her nightdress aside, balling it in his fist to pull her flush against him, her backside right at his face, made her blush deeply…

No book or whispered giggle between friends had ever told her such things.

The air brushed right between her legs, causing shivers of sensitivity to go through her the moment before the Duke’s mouth landed on the back of her thigh. The press of his mouth was firm, silently demanding of her attention, and she inhaled, bracing herself. His kisses trailed down to the side of her knee to the other leg and right up, burning a trail on her skin before he ever reached her most intimate parts.

Then he was there, hovering, and she felt the warm fan of his breath.

Veronica shuddered as he grasped her thighs, pulling her open further, exposing her in such a lewd way. His mouth lowered to her folds.

“You are positively soaked already, Duchess,” he said, his voice rough.

Her body tingled. He was right there , a hair’s breadth away from where she ached.

“Has this been the cause of my teasing and kisses?”

There was a condescension in his voice, but she knew, when she looked over her shoulder at him, there was evidence in his breeches that he was just as affected at her.

Hot and hard where she was wet and soft, ready for the pleasure he would bestow.

He pinched her hip. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” she hurried to answer. “I cannot bear the teasing any longer, Your Grace.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to the swell of her backside, trailing inwards. “I cannot help it when your anticipating silence is so sweet. Knowing that it is the calm before your cries of pleasure fill this hallway.”

And before she could say anything else, his mouth met her folds, and he had his first taste of her pleasure, and she swore she heard the vibration of a deep growl in the Duke’s throat.

One kiss, right in the center of her heat, and the Duke snapped, pulling Veronica’s hips back, right against his face. Her answering moan was stuttered and high, spilling out into the echoing hallway as he had told her to do. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue to push into her, and she wondered how she felt and tasted for him. Every swipe and lick of his tongue had her keening, her hips canting, unsure of what to do except be still and good for him.

Where he moved, she allowed herself to follow under his guiding hands. He moved her hips in order to slide his tongue deeper. With him behind her, and her chest flushed to the wall, she lost herself to the new sensations. When he groaned against her intimate parts, Veronica could not hold back her motions, trying to find more desire against his tongue. It flicked inside her, delving into her pleasure so thoroughly she could not even think to hold back her noises. Behind her back, her fingers curled into the silk ends of the cravat, needing to hold onto something lest she become so ungrounded.

The Duke held her roughly, his fingers digging into her hips, keeping her nightdress held aside, so it did not interfere as he licked her like a starved man. His eyes had closed as he suckled at her heat, pulling her closer every time she accidentally moved away with the sensitivity.

“Your Grace,” she gasped out when she felt a pressure bundling in her stomach. “Your Grace, I?—”

“Let it happen,” he told her, fingers moving from her hips to drive into the flesh of her backside, kneading her further open for him.

There was a bundle of nerves at the top of her folds, and he suckled on it harshly, and Veronica could not hold back her cry of pleasure. The Duke continued his desire to have her so thoroughly undone like this, tied up, against the wall. He alternated between the attention on that bundle and licking her heat.

The combination had Veronica up on tiptoes, pressing herself further into the wall if only to angle her hips further back into him.

And then that pressure grew and grew, until Veronica was frantically yanking at the cravat ends, feeling as though she would spin away had she not had something to hold onto. Her wrists bound, she could only painfully tug so far, but the rough handling of the Duke only served to further push her over the edge.

“Your Grace,” she cried, her legs trembling as he gave one last, harsh suckle, and Veronica saw stars, her head tipping back, and her mouth parting.

Her pleasure drove through her in waves, having her body shuddering, and she gasped out as he continued to lap at her until she hissed. Still, he did not relent, and the harsh attention soon had Veronica buckling against him, her body boneless with her climax.

She ached for more, still, but the Duke pressed his forehead to her thigh for a moment, stood, and worked at the knot of his cravat.

She felt his hard length against her, and she wished for more of it.

But the Duke just released her, and she felt the bare brush of his skin on the inside of her wrists.

Then, he was gone, leaving her breathless and wanting.

Her cheek pressed to the wall, she watched him walk away as she slowly came down from her pleasurable high.

Then she allowed herself to slump limply down the wall, smiling.