Page 8 of Duke of Pride (Sinful Dukes #4)

CHAPTER 8

Consequences

V ictoria was ready to murder someone. Not just anyone, but him. How dare he stroll in and just kick Dorothy’s friends out?

Stephen had ruined a perfectly lovely evening, one where Dorothy had truly laughed, truly enjoyed herself. And for what? Because he was incapable of letting anyone have fun under his rigid, joyless rule?

“Victoria,” he rasped, “I do not appreciate this tone in my house.”

“I am starting to think that there are very few things you appreciate.”

“Victoria!”

“Stephen!”

She could barely see straight through her fury. When she arranged for the ladies to come, it wasn’t just to vex him, to break his rules. It was for Dorothy. Victoria would be gone in less than a month, and it pained her to think that Dorothy would be again left with no one.

“You will apologize, and you will not repeat this,” Stephen ordered.

“I am not ready to make such a promise. Dorothy , your mother , has been locked away in mourning, alone and miserable, and you’re determined to keep her there! And for what? Some misguided sense of duty? Because Lord Prevost would disapprove?”

He straightened his back and looked away. At least he was listening. She knew that he was considering, really considering, the truth of her words.

“This is not proper behavior,” Stephen said, looking over her shoulder. “Not for my mother, and certainly not for you. Even chaperoned, if word got out that you were indulging in?—”

“So, now you are worried about my reputation?” Victoria let out a sardonic laugh. “Why would you care? I am known to be brazen and improper and a thousand other names that I am sure you have called me behind my back. Not a real lady.”

She expected a silent confirmation of her words. He was too much of a stickler for propriety to insult her so blatantly without provocation. Still, she saw a hint of regret. Before he wore that air of authority again.

“You are under my roof, under my —” He broke off. “My family’s protection.”

“Being protected from actually living or having fun, that is correct. Still, why do you even care about my conduct? You’re sending me away in a month. What does it matter to you what I do in the meantime?”

Stephen ran his hand through his hair, frustrated that he was troubling himself with her. Victoria followed that gesture with an unwelcome intensity. There was something alluring about seeing him run his long fingers through his luscious hair, his impossibly blue eyes fixed on her, the way his clothes hugged his muscles, the way?—

Stop, Victoria. What are you doing?

“Now, about that,” he said determinedly. “About you leaving in a month. I know you don’t want to go back to your brother.”

Victoria was taken aback. Her stomach twisted. It was bad that it was true, even worse that he noticed, and the worst of it all was that he was talking about it. She had nothing to say to that.

“I am not going to ask you why,” he continued. “But I can’t, in good conscience, send you away like that. I have thought of a solution.”

Victoria struggled to process what she was hearing and feeling. Relief that he was not asking for her reasons to avoid Maxwell. Surprise to see him almost considerate of her feelings. But she also dreaded to think that he had a plan .

The first two threw her into uncharted territory, waters she didn’t want to navigate, for it was too dangerous. But the latter… that was familiar territory, easier to tackle.

“A solution?” She crossed her arms. “For some reason, I am sure I am not going to like it.”

“I am starting to think that there are very few things you like,” he retorted, using her words against her.

“How can you say that?” she said in that sweet voice that knew got under his skin. “Annoying you beyond reason brings me immense joy.”

“Always a pleasure to provide entertainment for you.” He mimicked her tone.

That…

It was easier to hate his stupidly perfect face when he was a cold, rule-popping machine. But to add dry, witty humor and the hint that he had common decency? That did not bode well for her. So, she kept her walls up.

“And what is your brilliant plan, oh, grandmaster?”

Stephen pressed his full lips together and tilted his head as he slowly studied her face.

“I will help you secure a husband,” he offered smoothly.

Victoria blinked. Once. Twice. For a second, she was sure she had misheard him. Then… She laughed. A full-bodied, incredulous laugh.

“I am sorry…” She was struggling to contain her amusement. “It must be the word help coming out of your mouth that got me. You, helping me?”

His eyebrow rose, and his jaw ticked.

“It is true. I have ulterior motives,” Stephen said darkly. “Getting you out of my house and making sure you stay away from it.”

“Your ability to snuff out all mirth is uncanny,” Victoria scoffed, all serious now.

“I do tend to do that when I am perceived as the butt of a joke.”

Victoria refrained from picking up a petty fight and focused on the plan . Men. They have a one-track mind. Though, truth be told, there were not many options for a lady. She would either stay under a male relative’s care if unmarried or be married off.

“You seem determined to undertake quite an endeavor. My own brother has failed at this miserable task. What makes you think you’ll succeed where he hasn’t?”

“I have my ways.” Stephen’s gaze sharpened, his head tilting slightly.

There was something in his tone. Something infuriatingly confident. Something dangerous.

Victoria crossed her arms tighter, schooling her features.

“Your ways?” She decided to poke holes in his plan. “Is it magic?”

“It is knowing the right people and also—and excuse me for bringing this up—knowing what a real gentleman would require from his bride.”

“I didn’t realize you were an expert in the art of matrimony.”

“I’m an expert in how men think.”

“How very fortunate for you,” she shot back. “Do you plan to auction me off like a prized mare?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he said smoothly, “though I imagine you’d bite the hand of any prospective buyer.”

“I am not going to deny that,” she relented.

“Did it ever cross your mind that your lack of suitors has nothing to do with your brother’s abilities or the issue of your… lineage, but simply that lovely disposition of yours?”

Victoria gasped in mock offense. Then, her eyes narrowed, her voice dripping poison. “Did it ever cross your mind that I do not wish to pretend to be lovely for anyone? I merely wish to be me .”

Once more, their eyes met. It was instant sparks each time they did from the moment Annabelle introduced them, and it kept getting worse. Because now, Victoria could almost feel that look on her skin. The same way she felt the hard planes of his body that night, his strong arms?—

No. We are not remembering that now!

“So, we are looking for a man with a healthy constitution and a strong stomach.” Stephen’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“The very recipe of a happy marriage,” she clipped.

“With you? Undoubtedly,” he said bluntly but didn’t give her the time to respond. “Do we have a deal, Victoria?”

“Sure, give it a chance,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

“No. Tell me that we have a deal,” he insisted.

It was not a request. It was a command.

Victoria’s arms tightened around her chest, her fingers digging into her sleeves. Not in anger, but something she couldn’t recognize as that rough voice of his caressed her ears.

“A deal, you say? It sounds more like an order. As usual.”

“I am simply ensuring your cooperation.”

“Don’t you mean compliance?” She let out a sharp laugh, tilting her chin up. “You want control .”

The moment she uttered that word, the air between them crackled, an invisible force pulling them taut like a rope ready to snap.

Stephen let out a low growl, barely audible. Then, he pinned her with a cold look. She pretended that none of it affected her. But it did. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her pulse quickened, and her nails dug into her palms.

“You think I’m doing this for my own benefit?” His voice was low, rough. “You think I want to waste my time managing your future?”

“Then don’t.”

“You are not taking this seriously.”

“You do enough for both of us.”

“Someone has to!” he snarled. “What are you planning to do? If you don’t want to go back to your brother, then you have to marry. Unless you expect me to tolerate your presence in my house indefinitely.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of soiling your impeccable house with my presence.”

“I never said?—”

“But you didn’t have to.” Victoria was shaking with fury. “You think that you are better than me, better than everyone. Even your own mother. So untouchable, so impervious, so proper. As if a set of rules can control everyone’s lives.”

Stephen took a step closer, his movements precise, controlled. Barely restrained.

“I am certainly better than a petulant child who throws tantrums all the time.” His voice was low but harsh.

Her pulse jumped, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

“What you call tantrums is my refusal to be governed by some righteous control freak who?—”

Suddenly, he was there, in her private space. Towering over her. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, could see his throat bobbing as he swallowed down something violent.

“You sure lack discipline, Victoria .”

“You intend on disciplining me, Stephen ? Because let me tell you?—”

“You got so much fire in you.”

Victoria was stunned. His voice carried the weight of an approaching storm, deep and ominous, rumbling in his chest before it even reached his lips. Victoria didn’t even bother to take cover as the air shifted around them.

One glance. Just a brief, fleeting glance at his lips. That was all it took. His hand caught her chin, his thumb dragging across the line of her jaw, a touch too firm to be tender, too light to be rough. He studied her eyes, then her lips, his eyes hooded, his breathing too controlled. She, on the other hand, forgot to breathe, the air trapped in her lungs.

His other hand moved lower and settled on her hip. Not resting. Claiming. Fingers pressing, pulling her against him. Her treacherous body didn’t pull away; it swayed closer, melting into him. As she did, the world faded around them.

His grip tightened on her hip just enough to hold her still. He was now breathing hard. So was she, her chest heaving. For a moment, neither of them moved. Her eyes flicked to his, heat clashing with heat.

He was everywhere—his touch, his breath, the weight of his gaze dragging across her lips. His fingers flexed against her jaw, his other hand squeezing her hip, pulling her in until her skirts brushed against his thighs.

“Yes,” he purred, “so much fire.”

She barely had a second to breathe before his mouth crashed down onto hers, hot, demanding, merciless in its intent. Everything she had accused him of being—controlling, arrogant, insufferable—was now zeroed in on her. He pressed his lips to her lips, swallowing her protests, robbing her of air, stealing every coherent thought she had left.

Her hands, clenched into fists, found the lapels of his coat, gripping the fine fabric, twisting it, and yanking him closer.

“Victoria,” Stephen groaned, the deep, low sound reverberating in his chest, in her bones.

He moved, and her back hit the wall, neither of them breaking the kiss. His lips moved against hers with a maddening mixture of control and recklessness, as though he were both calculated and consumed.

He kissed like he did everything else—deliberate, intense, commanding. His lips were so soft, so full that Victoria couldn’t stop tasting them, trapping them with hers, taken by instinct. And when he bit her lower lip softly, she felt as if she were on fire, as if she were burning from the inside out.

“Oh!” she gasped.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, touching hers, exploring. Heat erupted in her chest, wild and unbidden, spreading through her limbs like wildfire, leaving nothing but him in its destructive wake.

She felt his hand on her face move, his fingers lightly wrapping around her neck, tipping her head back, giving him more access to her mouth. His body pressed against hers harder, impossibly close.

Victoria lost herself in the moment as she shoved her fingers in his hair. She arched into him, a silent plea for more. His response was to devour her. His tongue swept over hers in deep, languid strokes that made her entire body quiver. Again. Again. More. Deeper.

Then, his mouth left hers, but before she could even catch her breath, his breath was on her neck. His lips claimed it, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her whole body tense and then melt.

“Stephen!” she moaned.

He pulled back just slightly and looked into her eyes, still tangled in her skirts, his hand still wrapped around her neck. Victoria’s breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, her mind hazy, confused, still catching up. Stephen loomed over her, his shoulders heaving, his lips parted. His fingers still pressed lightly against the column of her throat, his thumb grazing her pulse.

Suddenly, he released her, and her body mourned the loss. He stood there for a moment, his azure eyes roaming over her face, his lids heavy. Then, he leaned in, just enough that she felt his breath ghost over her mouth, a cruel reminder of what they had just done.

“Do not ever”—his voice was a devastating growl—“push me like that again, girl.”