Page 26 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)

Temperance swayed in shock as the door closed behind her in a smooth thump.

At first all she could see was a huge bed in the middle of the chamber.

A counterpane the color of rust and gold was thrown upon it.

There was a thick mahogany pillar at each corner of the bed, and a canopy with drapes of the same color.

But none of that mattered; Temperance couldn’t look away from the iron rings embedded in the carved wood of the headboard.

What would one do with them?

Be tied to them… came the strangely exhilarating thought.

The room itself was dark, warm with its mahogany paneled walls and crimson curtains on the windows.

Temperance’s shoes sank into the soft rug.

Daylight shone through the windows and yet there were candles in silver candelabras already lit all over the room.

An unusually large bathtub had been set by the fireplace in which firewood crackled, and beside that, a washbasin with hot steaming water sat on the washstand.

A small feast awaited on a little round table by the blazing fireplace with cheeses, cold meats, fruit, freshly baked bread, butter, patés, and caviar.

A carafe of wine stood at the ready, but only one glass.

The maids had prepared the room recently for someone…and that someone would arrive at any moment.

Temperance swallowed. She should leave. She’d just stepped into a forbidden space, into the midst of a secret. She shouldn’t be here.

But she knew whose secret this must be, and the thought of its master was drawing her farther into the chamber almost against her will.

The Duke of Eccess.

Octavius.

It was shocking, really; the Duke of Enveigh had offered her a suggestion that might indeed solve everything, even hinted at possible marriage…yet every thought she possessed was full of the ruler of this house.

He was here: in every curve of the bed carvings, the shimmer of the silk counterpane and drapes, in the sensual scents—wood, spices, the musk of leather.

And she felt safe. Hidden in the confines of his secret. No evil stepmothers, no cruel stepcousins, no goons, no asylums.

Just him.

Temperance’s breathing slowed. Her senses were heightened and soothed at the same time. Her curiosity burned as she stepped farther into the room.

This wasn’t his bedchamber—she’d already seen that room. The memory sent a delicious shudder through her.

Now she could think, she noticed an assortment of objects, the sight of which made her gasp, her hand shooting to her mouth.

On a sideboard stood a dozen or so carved ivory and wood… penises …

Heat rushed to her face and hit her cheeks. She recognized them from her biology books and from the classic sculptures that represented said part of anatomy in great detail—only, these were huge.

Barely breathing, Temperance moved closer, her gaze glued to the objects in question. They varied in thickness and length, straightness and curves. The ivory one looked so smooth she raised her hand to touch it…but didn’t dare.

She licked her lips. What did one do with them? Why would one need them if one had…him?

A flutter began beneath Temperance’s breastbone. On the walls, paintings she hadn’t previously paid attention to depicted what exactly one would do with such a penis made of ivory or wood, and her breasts tingled.

Now she was examining them, Temperance could see there were several paintings with different scenarios.

The one that particularly caught her attention was one with a woman facing the viewer, her breasts bared and a man penetrating her…

unmentionable part…but not the female part, the other part!

While thrusting the wooden penis into her… well, female part.

Her mouth fell open as she studied it. She’d never even thought the other part of anatomy could be used for that…

She really should leave.

But she didn’t want to. Temperance felt alit, aware, awoken. Just like last night, the Duke of Eccess had managed to open yet another new door within her, a new secret space in which her nipples tightened and a sweet aching tugged between her legs.

She’d been ignoring this part of her for her whole life. Now she’d opened this door, she didn’t want to close it.

Temperance stared at more fascinating things.

Fluffy ostrich feathers, jade and marble eggs, a necklace with large round glass beads, rabbit fur–lined manacles, brushes with soft bristles, riding crops, silk ropes in different colors, ribbons, scarves, fragrant oils in pretty bottles.

She lifted the glass stoppers one by one, inhaled the scents of roses and jasmine.

It was like stepping into a different world altogether.

The more she saw, touched, smelled, the more her body filled with an ache of anticipation, with a wonderful thrill, the more she felt something she felt only when she experimented with electric fluid.

Alive .

Like she was deeply connected to life itself. One with the world.

Electric fluid had ignited her spirit; now all of her was on fire. Body. Mind. Soul.

She should leave. Someone would be coming soon—either a servant, or the ruler of the house himself.

But instead of moving towards the door, Temperance wanted to know what would happen if he did come in…

On another sideboard, a collection of masks was carefully spread over the surface: Venetian masks that covered half of the face, small masks somewhat bigger than spectacles, and everything in between. A harlequin, a tiger, a black cat, a wolf, a peacock, a boar, Dionysus, Apollo, Aphrodite…

Temperance brushed her fingers over the silk roses and seashells of the Aphrodite mask.

Did he, her employer, wear one when he was here with a lover?

What would it be like, to leave the constraints of her own name and personality behind, the woman who was taught to be careful and to obey, to adhere to her known world and to live in temperance?

To ignore her body…

She picked up the mask…

And became the goddess of beauty and love. Temperance pressed it against her face. Hands moving without thought, she tied the silk ribbons behind her head.

The mask was a pleasant pressure on her skin, the inside covered in silk, smooth and cool against her heated face. What was it like to be a goddess? To exist just for the pleasures of the body, for the emotion of love, to worship a man and to be worshipped as a woman…?

The role spread through her like a second skin, straightening her back, pushing out her breasts, sparking down in tingles through her waist to her hips, whirling in a storm of sensations between her thighs.

“ Bonjour ,” came a voice from behind her. “There you are.”

It was as though Temperance had created him from her dreams, conjured him with her thoughts, as though the mask she had put on did give her the powers of a goddess.

Her head felt light and spun, her whole body acutely attuned to every sensation.

Temperance grasped the edges of the sideboard but didn’t let her shoulders slump, didn’t let her breasts hide, didn’t stand any less tall.

His steps, quiet on the soft carpet, came closer and closer. Should she say something? Reveal herself?

Part of Temperance screamed that she was being compromised, that being alone in a scandalous room like this with a man… She could almost hear the voice of every matron of the ton telling her if anyone found out, she’d be ruined.

All valid concerns, and yet she ignored that voice. She was Miss Fields, not Lady Agatha Temperance Hale, and right now…

She was Aphrodite.

And then he was there, behind her, cradling her with his large body, singeing her back with heat. One big hand was placed on her waist and drew her to him, pressing her back to collide with his hard torso. His other hand lay on her cheek and gently but firmly turned her face to him.

“ L’Aphrodite ,” the Duke of Eccess said, his voice husky. “ Très bien . Let me worship you, my goddess.”

And then his lips were on hers, demanding, devouring, taking. He kissed her passionately, his tongue stroking hungrily.

“I need you to help me forget someone,” he murmured against her lips.

It must be the mask. This very room designed for sin.

Temperance couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t do anything but return his kisses, respond to him with every inch of desire he gave her.

The sensations he was provoking in her body were taking over, turning her from a correct and collected woman into a soft, warm, and pliable mess.

The tingling in her breasts intensified, the pleasure burned in her stomach and between her legs.

Her body sang with the feeling of being alive like never before. Alive, and safe, and blissful.

The Duke of Eccess began undoing the hooks of her gown, then pulled the sides of the fabric apart, and Temperance whimpered as his hands slid down over her corset.

When he cupped her breasts, she gasped as a waterfall of sizzling heat coursed through her.

To her utter amazement, her nipples became hard as pebbles, aching in a strange, sweet need.

“ Bonjour , Your Grace,” came a feminine voice from somewhere in the room.

Wrong—that voice was wrong. It shouldn’t be here.

Both Temperance and the duke went completely still. He stepped away from her and she turned, hands trying to hook her dress behind her back. He was frowning in confusion, looking between her and the door.

Another woman stood in the doorway. She was dark-haired, petite like her, and wearing a very fashionable purple pelisse with a silky red gown underneath.

She was very pretty—big dark eyes, long eyelashes, full pouty lips like glistening cherries.

“ Je vois que vous avez déjà de la compagnie. Tant mieux. Je vais me joindre à vous… ”

I see you already have company. Even better. Let me join you…

The woman approached her and Eccess, and Temperance took a step back. She most certainly didn’t feel like Aphrodite anymore.

She had no power over anyone, least of all over him .

How could she when she couldn’t stop thinking about him?

All while he’d just invited another woman to indulge in pleasures with him, his masks, and his toys for lovemaking.