Page 11 of A Duchess to Reclaim (The Devil’s Masquerade #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“A melia seems to be doing much better,” Hugo stated.

Dominic lifted his eyes back toward his wife for the hundredth time that evening. They’d barely spoken since their conversation a week ago in his study. After discovering what her past had been like with Fraser, he’d given her a wide birth. They seemed to be slipping into an odd place when it came to touch, and though he’d never admit it, he didn’t know where he stood with Amelia.

At times she seemed to want him. And he’d certainly developed an attraction to her; but there was so much chaos between them, and he was too busy with work and fixing their reputation to wade through it all. The garden party they were at presently was one such things; a way to prove to the ton that any unsavory rumors were unfounded.

“She does indeed,” Dominic lied.

He knew her well enough now to know that she despised society’s fashions. Even donned in her favorite color she would forgo the gloves and hats and tight knots of women’s hairstyles if she could. He thought of her that day standing in the center of the aviary’s bare structure. Hair unbound. Shoulders exposed. Free.

Still, despite being allowed to wear her choice of clothes, Amelia’s countenance did seem much improved. She no longer appeared tense or frightened as she stood among the mass of elites, but instead blended quite well into them.

Perhaps after another week I should take her home, he thought, give her a break. Let her see how the aviary is coming along.

“Hugo, Dominic,” Tristan greeted them with a nod, joining them under large white tent where the drinks were being served.

“How goes it Tristan?” Dominic asked casually.

“You never joined me at White’s last night,” Tristan accused, waving his hand for a drink.

“My meetings ran long,” Dominic explained, smirking, “Shall I send an apology bouquet to your house for standing you up?”

Hugo and Dominic chuckled, but Tristan only narrowed his eyes.

“Amelia’s father came looking for you.”

Dominic’s humor vanished at once, and the three of them walked off to a more private spot.

“What the bloody hell did he want?” Dominic demanded, his tone low.

His eyes roamed over the crowded lawn. One to make sure they weren’t going to be interrupted, two to make sure he could still keep an eye on Amelia.

A gentleman he didn’t know had approached her and her friends, and while they conversation appeared cordial, he got a strange feeling in his gut as he watched.

“He was roaring drunk,” Tristan explained, “Wouldn’t tell me much. Just that there’s an unsettled debt between you two.”

Dominic glanced away from Amelia and toward his friend.

“That’s ridiculous,” he stated, “there is no debt.”

“That’s not what he says,” Tristan replied, grimacing.

Dominic noted it right away and asked him what else he said.

“Not much else about you,” Tristan replied, swirling the whiskey around in his glass, “But what he said about Theo nearly had me knocking his block off right there in front of everyone.”

“What did he say?” Dominic demanded, feeling his anger grow.

“Said if my parents and I were tired of waiting around to marry off my poor, scarred sister, he had a way of getting her taken care of quick.”

Dominic’s nostrils flared with rage. Tristan was the only one who knew the truth of how he and Amelia had been married, so he knew his friend would have been absolutely livid at the idea of someone suggesting he take her to auction.

“You should have hit him,” Dominic growled, “I would have made the rumor go away for you. I heard he’s making more enemies by the day anyway.”

“What did he mean by that?” Hugo asked, looking at them suspiciously. “Surely he’s not suggesting something like Seraphina’s mother had? Pushing her to get caught in a scandal.”

Worse, Dominic wanted to say, but the less people that knew about the auction the better. It was a practice he hadn’t minded for many years, but now he was quickly starting to loathe its existence.

“Some people really shouldn’t have children,” Dominic muttered in response to Hugo’s question.

To Tristan he said, “I’ll take care of Hoge. Just stay out of White’s for a while. All of you. Until I get this sorted.”

“Good luck giving that order to Everett,” Hugo scoffed. “That’s probably where he is now.”

“Wasn’t there last night,” Tristan spoke up. They all looked at him with surprise.

“Who knows,” He said with a shrug, “Maybe all that razzing about him being a drunkard got to him.

Dominic and Hugo both chortled as they rolled their eyes, then turned their attention back to their wives. They did so just in time to see Theo and Seraphina appearing to try to keep Amelia in place, while she, with a frown on her face, seemed to be insisting they let her go.

“That can’t be good,” Hugo muttered, his eyes focused on the concerned look upon his wife’s face.

“Everything was going so well,” Tristan mused, “I wonder what happened?”

“Who was that man?” Dominic asked, following Amelia with his eyes as she headed toward the host’s house.

“What man?” Tristan asked.

“The one they were talking to,” Dominic replied.

“I didn’t notice him,” Tristan replied.

“Me neither,” Hugo confessed.

Dominic let loose a sigh of frustration, then drained his glass.

“Keep an eye on them,” he commanded, heading in the same direction Amelia had left. “Let me know if a man in a grey suit approaches them.”

Despite his darkening mood, Dominic pulled on a charming smile as he made his way through the throng of garden party guests. Most lifted their smiles toward him and waved, some bowed their heads. A small few watched him warily, like he were a wild animal stalking through instead of a man. He made a mental note of those faces, knowing he would deal with them later.

He searched the first floor of the house for Amelia, visiting all of the usual open spots guests may go. The parlor, the sitting room, the library and small gallery the house hosted. But she was nowhere to be found. Next he searched the second floor.

That strange slither of possessiveness slid through him as he pictured opening a bedroom door and finding her with another man. He knew he shouldn’t care. Their marriage was not romantic. But the very idea had his blood pumping and teeth sitting on edge.

But he didn’t find her there either. Or on the third floor. He went back to the first floor, ready to search the kitchens next, when he heard a rhythmic thumping coming from behind a set of double doors just off the kitchen wing. He paused immediately at the door, pressing his ear to it as his hand circled around the knob.

Thump, thump, thump- ouch! Blast it! Thump, thump- uggghhh! Why do men find this enjoyable?

Recognizing Amelia’s voice, Dominic opened the door. His brows rose with curiosity at what he saw. Amelia swiftly turned her head toward him; breathing hard as a suspended punching swayed back and forth before her. Her hands, he noted, were balled up into tight fists, and glimmer of sweat speckled across her brow. He couldn’t help the chuckle that burst from his lips.

“What are you laughing at?” She spat out, still trying to catch her breath.

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Dominic chuckled, closing the door behind him.

His grin was wide as he approached, not able to help but find the sight he’d walked in on nothing short of comical.

“I suppose I have just never seen a boxer in a dress before,” he said, shaking his head as he stopped before.

She bared her teeth at him, but Dominic raised a pointed finger to the air.

“Actually that’s not true. I persuaded a drunken Everett to wear one during a match, but I must admit he didn’t look as good as you.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at him as she grimaced, then turned back to the swaying punching bag.

“Leave me alone, Dominic,” she said, her tone weary as she brought her fists up again. “I’ll be back out to prove our love to the ton again in just a moment.”

“Someone said something to you,” he said, ignoring her command.

“Just the usual,” Amelia murmured, then threw a punch into the bag.

He steepled his fingers together before him, watching her with a quiet observance.

“And what is the usual?” He asked smoothly.

“Oh, you know. How talented I must be to gain the attention from a Duke like you. How well trained Roland must have had me to be so appeasing to someone with as much ‘experience’ as you.”

Amelia then seethed out a few angry breaths as she delivered several punches to the bag in a row.

Dominic’s mood darkened as he thought of the man he saw talking to her earlier. The damned scoundrel must be quite full of himself to talk to a married woman this way. His married woman.

“Did he mention the Devil’s Masquerade? ” He asked calmly.

“No,” Amelia grunted, throwing another punch.

“You realize attending those parties, for whatever reason, only put you at risk of confirming your previous rumored reputation.

“I know!” She yelled, then threw another punch, this time with her entire body.

He saw the mistake before the fist even landed, and was at her side by the time she let out a painful yep and hugged her wrist to herself.

“Stop,” he commanded, taking her injured wrist into his own hands. “You’re not doing it properly.”

“Apparently I cannot do anything properly,” she huffed, trying to yank her wrist from his hold.

His eyes flicked to hers in warning, and his grip on her injured wrist tightened. Amelia’s face pinched in sorrow as stopped fighting and then lowered her head. With gentle fingertips, he began to inspect the red, swollen joint.

“If you want to take your frustrations out on a bag I can teach you how,” he murmured, checking for a break.

She hissed out a breath of pain as he touched a tender spot and winced.

“I was not aware that throwing a punch into a bag of sand was something that needed to be taught,” she replied bitterly.

Dominic let out a huff of a laugh as he began to loosen his cravat with one hand.

“The bag of sand is to impersonate a body,” he explained, “So that the fighter can experience what it’s like to hit something solid as such. We train for years with wrappings and gloves before we fight barehanded so as not to accrue such injuries.”

Pulling the cravat from his throat, he gently bandaged it around her injured wrist, binding it tight.

“You have sprained your wrist,” he explained. “Cold compresses will help. And rest. Try not to use it for a day or two.”

Amelia sighed, her brows tensing as she closed her eyes. Her look of defeat was so apparent it softened some of those rough edges within Dominic. Before he knew it, he was wrapping his arm around her, pulling her back into his chest. Though at one time it would have pleased him, it now worried him that she took the comfort so readily.

“It is my dominant hand, though,” she whispered, leaning into him.

“Another trick I shall teach you,” he said softly, caressing a finger over her injury. “Striking with your other hand.”

He felt her shoulders begin to spasm, and his heart clenched strangely as he realized she was crying.

“I hate this,” she sobbed. “I hate being here. No matter what we do, what you do, people will always remember me as a ruined woman. You trying to fix this is hopeless.”

“You do not know me that well,” he replied, daring a chuckle, “My methods can be quite effective.”

“Not with me,” she sobbed.

Her body sagged into him even more, and, unable to take it, he turned her into his body and cradled her head into his chest. He did not know the man that so tenderly shushed her sobs and stroked her hair. Did not recognize the gentleness he displayed, or understand where the ability had come from.

“I’m sorry I went to the Devil’s Masquerade,” she sobbed into his chest. “I’m sorry I made matters worse. I won’t do it ever again, I swear. Just please, let me get away from these people.”

“What happened to you?” He asked, perhaps a tad crass. “What happened to the haughty woman in the carriage who declared her strength?”

“It’s gone,” she whispered, shaking her head against him. “My strength. Everything I thought I was. It’s gone.”

“Hush now,” he urged, lifting her chin with the crook of his finger.

He raised her eyes so he could look at her, and his heart clenched again as he took in her shining honey-brown eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“That’s not true,” he found himself saying, stroking away some of her tears. “You are not the helpless woman from the auction, Amelia. You are the beautiful, forthright, stubborn woman I pulled out of the Devil’s Masquerade the other week.”

His heart fluttered strangely as a choked laugh broke from Amelia’s lips at the word stubborn, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“And you will do this. You can do this.”

Amelia’s attempt to smile, to prove him right, spurred a prideful arousal within him, and before he could think, he slipped his hand around her throat and tilted her lips to his.

Unlike before he was gentle with his possession, suckling at her lips and tongue as if they’d been dipped in honey with deep, languid strokes. Amelia sighed into his mouth as she relaxed fully into his arms, and he backed her up into the punching bag; gripping her waist with one hand; the bag in the other so that it wouldn’t sway away from them.

Her arms wound around his neck as she pressed herself deeper into him; her thigh brushing teasingly over his already rigid and swollen cock. Unable to help himself, he groaned at the pleasure; reveling in the way it heated his blood and sent white stars bursting behind his eyes.

“Perhaps I have been too harsh with you,” he rasped, going down to his knees. “Bringing you to town. Punishing your body for your spiteful tongue.”

“What are you doing?” Amelia rasped, her eyes hazy as she watched him lower himself.

Dominic gathered her skirts as he met her eyes, and braced to lift them.

“Do you want relief, Amelia?” He asked, voice thick as his body raged.

Torment, fear, and need flashed through her eyes as she looked down, only urging his arousal on.

“I…”

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his fingers bunching in the fabric. “I need to hear you say yes.”

Amelia’s arms slowly reached back, her fingers digging into the thick rope that suspended the bag.

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes melting into to pure liquid honey, “Please, Dominic.”

He moaned at her plea, and lifted her skirts. He found her mons already slick with need and pulsing as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her turgid clitoris, and his blood sang with desire as he heard her throaty gasp and felt her arch into his mouth. Her sweet musk filled his nostrils as he licked again, then nuzzled into her hot center. A growl escaped his throat as she bucked into his mouth, and with a powerful grip, he lifted her leg up over his shoulder and cupped her buttocks tightly.

Amelia’s needy moans and whimpers filled the still air as he began to feast on her with abandon.

He’d tasted women before. He didn’t mind it; enjoyed the product of it much more than the actual act. But with Amelia, he became immediately addicted to the taste. Sweet, warm, liquid gushes that coated his needy throat, sating the hunger that raged in his loins.

* * *

“Dominic,” she whispered, her breaths growing heavier with every lick.

She clung to the rope suspending the punching for dear life; fearing if she’d let go she’d fall to the floor and it swallow her up. Of all the things she expected to happen today this was not one of them- but she’d be lying to herself if she denied the craving Dominic had started within her from that first punishing kiss.

“That’s it my little vixen,” Dominic whispered against her mons, pushing her more toward his mouth. “Let go for me.”

His thick, deep voice only further pushed her toward that quickly approaching cliff, and Amelia felt her entire body begin to quiver. Every worry, from her reputation to her sisters dissolved as Dominic’s tongue languished her with attention, until her only thought was of how good he felt.

Her hands trembled at the rope, a weakness sliding throughout her entire body as he continued-but she did not dare let go. Everything about her seemed to be transforming into liquid, and it was only by her grip that she didn’t disappear entirely into a puddle.

It was not just the pleasure from Dominic’s skilled tongue that was dissolving her; but the hungry, aching sounds from his throat as he devoured her. He sounded like a feral beast that had been parched for days, and acted as if her body was the only fountain he had to drink from. The very idea spurred a wicked glee within her, and she boldly let go of the rope with one hand to place atop his thick black and silver hair.

A bestial growl erupted from Dominic’s throat as she clenched her fingers around the thick, silky strands, and she gasped sharply as his fingers clenched even tighter to her backside.

Then all too suddenly her pleasure approached the edge of that mysterious cliff, and before she could help it, she was tumbling into it. Her entire body released into trembles of pleasure as a low, keening sound she didn’t recognize left her throat. Amelia lost her grip on the rope, and, having no strength to hold herself up, slid down the punching toward the floor.

Dominic’s arms were suddenly like a cage around her, lifting her up before her knees could hit the cold marble. His hand was like a vise as he caught the back of her neck and ravaged her with a kiss; and she gasped as she tasted herself on his glistening lips.

Sweet and salty she was, and Amelia blushed wildly as she accepted what she was tasting on his lips. Dominic’s demanding kiss seemed to last for ages, but she had no desire to stop it. Instead, she gave him full control, and felt comfort in the loss of it.

Eventually though, the kiss slowed, and when at last he pulled away from her swollen, bruised lips, she felt as if she’d forgotten how to breathe on her own.

“You’re going home,” Dominic’s deep voice commanded.

Air suddenly rushed into Amelia’s lungs and her eyes flew open; still blurry from the pleasure.

She whimpered at the sight of Dominic’s hard, handsome features; the liquid silver of his eyes as he stared deeply into her own. Her lashes fluttered again and she blinked, not at all sure that she had heard her correctly.

“Wh-what?” She stammered.

Dominic slowly let her go; but he flinched as he saw her stumble- as if ready to catch her.

“I’m sending you home,” he stated, then wiped his mouth with his kerchief. “You need a small break. Three days.”

Something about the way he did it spurred a sudden insecurity within her, and she blushed and took a small step back. It was exactly what she wanted to hear- what she had been praying for, and yet she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being dismissed.

“I- I thought you needed me here?” She asked, her pleasure slipping away by the second.

“Not like this. Not running away and cowering every time someone upsets you,” Dominic said. The slight tone of distaste made her flinch.

“Go back to Ellsworth. Check on your precious aviary, and gather yourself. When you come back, we will finish this together. And then we will move on.”

Move on. In all the commotion, she’d forgotten that there would be an after once the rumors were settled. What would happen then? Would he leave again? Would she be left to the solitude of Ellsworth manor? Suddenly the thought didn’t seem as appealing as before.

“What will you do?” She asked, not sure what else to say.

Dominic tucked his kerchief back into his pocket and straightened his jacket, already looking as if nothing had happened.

“What I always do,” he replied, turning away from her to leave, “I will handle my business.”