Page 39 of Bound to the Heartless Duke (Regency Beasts #4)

T hey prepared to leave before the sun had risen fully above the eastern hills. The air still carried the chill of dawn, the kind that caressed the skin and lifted spirits.

Magnus was ready, easily swinging himself up into the saddle. The leather creaked under his weight.

“Duchess.” He extended a hand toward Lily, who accepted it and allowed him to hoist her up.

The position was intimate, more than she had anticipated. His arm was wound around her waist, possessively pulling her back against the breadth of his chest to keep her safe. His scent—leather, soap, something darker and masculine—filled her senses.

“Hold on,” he murmured into her ear.

She obeyed, her hands resting lightly on his arm, before he nudged the horse forward.

As the world blurred past them, Lily asked softly, “Do you have a plan once we reach the north?”

“Locate your brother before the debt collectors do. And keep you from doing something foolish in the process,” Magnus replied carefully.

Lily turned her head toward him, catching the faintest glint of humor in his eyes. “You assume I will be trouble.”

“I do not assume,” he said, his lips curving slightly. “I know.”

She gave a small, indignant huff, but her blush deepened. She was grateful for the wind that swept across the fields, for it instantly cooled her heated cheeks.

Hours later, when the sunlight began to fade into the deeper gold of evening, they reached their destination.

Knowing it was getting late, Magnus guided the horse towards a roadside inn.

The commo room was warm when they entered, and they caught the scents of meat, fresh bread, and spilled ale. Magnus spoke with the innkeeper, his low voice, while Lily stood in the corner, watching the people within sight.

Her gaze snagged on a man sitting at a corner table. She paused. Something about the hunch of his shoulders, the color of his hair, dredged up a memory.

Instinctively, she moved towards him. But before she could take more than a few steps, another man stepped into her path.

The stranger was broad-shouldered and wore a grin too wide to be harmless. “Now there’s a face worth the trouble of the road,” he drawled, his eyes roaming over her.

“I’m sorry, I?—”

“No need to rush off,” he interrupted, moving closer. “It’s not every day I meet a lady traveling without her?—”

“She is not alone,” Magnus’s voice cut in.

The man stiffened, glancing over her shoulder at the tall figure behind her.

Magnus’s presence seemed to fill the room. Lily could almost feel his unyielding gaze boring into the man.

“I meant no harm,” the man muttered, seeming to have recognized Magnus’s rank. Immediately, he backed away.

“I suggest,” Magnus said, his tone deceptively mild, “you keep it that way.”

When the man slunk off, Lily heaved a sigh of relief, though her heart was still pounding in her chest.

She exhaled, and when she looked back at Magnus, she found his expression unreadable.

“I have secured a room for tonight. Let’s go,” he said, before turning away.

She watched him retreat for a few seconds before proceeding after him.

They entered a room, the space moderately large but well furnished and ventilated. The frame of the window reminded Lily of Medlin Manor for a brief moment.

“You should have stayed home,” Magnus said, breaking through her thoughts.

She turned around to look at him, her eyebrows knitted together. “This is my brother we are trying to find. Whatever he has done, he is my blood. I will not sit idly by while others hunt him down.”

“You are not helping,” he insisted evenly. “You are slowing things down.”

The words hit her like a slap across the face. “Slowing things down? I am here because I care for him. Because he needs me.”

“What he needs is for you to be safe,” Magnus countered, steel creeping into his voice. “And that is not here.”

She lifted her chin in defiance. “Do you think I cannot protect myself?”

“I think you underestimate the danger.”

“And I think,” she shot back, “that you overestimate your right to decide where I belong.”

For the first time that day, his composure cracked, his eyes narrowing on her. “You could have been hurt just now. You would have been if I hadn’t stepped in. Just like last time.”

“I could have handled him on my own,” she said hotly. “I do not need you to shield me from every shadow.”

“You think this is about need?” he asked, his voice low but intense. “It is not. I care for you and I do not like seeing you hurt. Is that enough reason for you?”

The air between them was no longer merely tense; it was thick, charged, and almost suffocating.

Lily’s heart rate quickened, though she refused to look away from him. “Perhaps you should not,” she said, “if you regret it so.”

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. The kind she blinked blankly at.

“Regret? No. But you think I protect you because of duty alone.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“However all of this began,” he continued, stepping closer, “you are my wife now. That comes with responsibilities I cannot ignore.”

“Your duties,” she said bitterly.

“Yes,” he agreed, though his voice was edged with something else. “But you think I perform them begrudgingly.”

“Do you not?”

His eyes searched hers. “You have no idea how difficult it has been—” He broke off, his jaw tightening.

“What has been difficult?” she prompted, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Magnus took another step forward until she felt the heat of his body. “To keep my hands off you. To keep my distance when every part of me wants otherwise.”

She swallowed hard. “And why would you wish to keep your distance?”

“Because if I let myself fall for you, I would lose the one thing I must not—control. And without it, I won’t be able to protect you as I must.”

Her breath caught, the words striking deeper than she cared to admit.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

“Then what about the other night? Was that also a mistake? A mistake you’ve vowed to never let happen again?”

Magnus eyes her carefully, not answering.

Lily opened her mouth to press him, but then she hesitated. Instead, she reached for his face and pressed her lips to his.

It was not a chaste kiss.

He groaned into it, as though his carelly kept restraint had suddenly shattered. His hands moved to her waist without thinking, pulling her flush against him, his mouth claiming hers with an almost wild hunger.

“Lily…” he breathed against her lips, his voice rough, before his mouth trailed to her jaw, her neck, the soft hollow beneath her ear.

She gasped, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He made quick work of the ties at the back of her gown, the silk falling to the floor as their breaths mingled. She stood in her chemise, the thin fabric doing little to hide the contours of her body. The look in his eyes made her knees tremble.

“You are exquisite,” he rasped, his tone reverent yet laced with heat.

He pushed her chemise down her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. His gaze roamed over her, unhurried yet ravenous, before he bent and scooped her up into his arms. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she wound her arms around his neck.

She cried out softly when he lowered his head and closed his mouth around her nipple, sucking on it softly. His tongue lapped at her before his teeth grazed her sensitive flesh.

Her hands went to his hair, holding him there as though afraid he might stop, but he only moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention until she begged for more.

He turned, placing her on the nearest table before lowering his hand to her sex and sliding a finger through her wetness, making her gasp. He kissed her again, swallowing her moans. His touch grew firmer, circling, teasing, then he slid one finger inside her.

“Magnus…” she groaned, her voice breaking.

She could only utter one thing, and that was his name.

“You are already wet for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “Do you know what that does to me?”

She trembled as he added a second finger, curling them inside her until her hips bucked into his hand.

A shiver skittered down her spine as he suddenly grabbed her waist and flipped her over, pressing her breasts against the cold surface of the table.

She stifled a cry as his lips brushed down her spine, trailing to her buttcheeks, his hands cupping and squeezing them hard.

“Magnus…”

When his tongue dove into her from behind, she cried.

“Take me already,” she pleaded as his tongue flicked up her folds.

She could feel his hard length poking her leg as he hovered over her.

His hands moved to grab her breasts, and she turned her head to meet his eyes as he repositioned himself. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck as his trousers slipped down his legs.

“You feel like fire around me,” he rasped against her ear.

The words sent another shiver through her, sending liquid heat to the core of her where she felt him tease her gently with his member before he shifted.

She cried out as he pushed into her from behind, her fingers curling around the edge of the table.

Her back arched off the table as his thrusts quickedn and she found herself unable to stop her cries as he took her.

There was nothing sweet about this coupling. It seemed as though he wanted to brand her as his and wreck her body and by the growing soreness between her legs, she knew indeed he had his wish.

He thrust harder, faster, until her loud moans had completely taken over the room.

A scream tore from her throat as she climaxed, her walls clenching around him. And with one final deep thrust, he spilled inside her.

“You will be the death of me, Lily,” he rumbled, before lifting her from the table bridal style and carrying her to the bed, both of them slightly trembling.

She felt languid in his arms, unable to do more than sag into him with a sigh. Never had she felt so sated yet so exhausted,

He lowered her onto the mattress, keeping her close. He kissed her softly, almost tenderly, his hand cupping her cheek.

The candlelight had burned low. The small chamber smelled faintly of warm skin, his cologne, and the musk of what they had done a couple of hours ago.

Magnus lay beside Lily, his breathing even in slumber. His arm was slung over her waist as though he meant to keep her close even in sleep. His hair had fallen slightly over his brow, softening the severe lines of his face.

Lily had turned onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. She let her gaze roam over him in the dim light, watching the cut of his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble.

He was so beautiful that her chest ached.

She reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his temple. He didn’t stir, only exhaled deeply, his grip on her tightening for a heartbeat before relaxing again.

Her lips curved faintly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

For all the fierce passion they had just shared, for all the heat and tenderness of his touch, two words kept echoing in her mind: Duty. Responsibility.

He had told her he did not want to fall for her. And though he had spoken of wanting her, of struggling to stay away, he had never said the word she longed most to hear.

She knew she loved him. It was there in the way her heart answered his every glance, every brush of his hand. But what if she would never be more than an obligation he could not shrug off?

Her throat tightened.

She settled back down, snuggling against his side because it was the only place she wanted to be, even if it came with the quiet fear of never being loved.

She closed her eyes, letting the steady beat of his heart lull her to sleep.