Page 25 of Duke with a Lie (Wicked Dukes Society #4)

R hiannon woke to the smell of breakfast.

Which was quite odd, considering that she was in her bedroom.

She blinked and yawned, stretching as she looked for the source of the decadent scents. Her stomach rumbled. There was nothing on her bedside table. And besides, who would have brought her breakfast this morning? She hadn’t had a tray in her room since arriving, and?—

“Good morning.”

She emitted a high-pitched squeal at the masculine rumble and turned to find Aubrey moving toward her, bearing a large silver tray laden with an assortment of food. The source of the smell.

Her heart leapt, and her stomach rumbled in unison.

“Good morning,” she returned, feeling suddenly shy as she sat up in bed, holding the bedclothes over her bare breasts.

He was the picture of a dashing rake this morning, an easy grin on his sensual lips, his hair a bit damp at the ends, as if he had recently bathed, his whiskers neatly trimmed.

“How are you?” he asked softly, bringing the tray to the table at her bed and placing it there.

How was she? What kind of a question was that? And how to answer?

“I am well,” she managed, wondering how an experienced mistress would respond.

Likely, she wouldn’t have squeaked like a mouse, she thought grimly.

“Good.” He sat on the edge of the bed, studying her. “I thought you might like some breakfast.”

The gesture was so unexpectedly sweet and considerate, she couldn’t help but to smile. “That was kind, thank you.”

His expression shifted, taking on a wariness that had been absent at first. “I’m not a kind man.”

“Yes, you are.”

He frowned. “No, I’m not. Nor am I a particularly good one.” He turned to the tray, picking up a plate. “What would you prefer? I managed to obtain some freshly baked bread and jam, sausages, a rasher of bacon, raspberries, pineapple, and strawberries.”

“You needn’t feed me. I’m hardly an invalid.”

“I am responsible for you now,” he said to the tray.

The passionate lover from last night was gone, and in his place was a brooding stranger.

After they had made love, he had tended to her, washing her and bringing her to climax yet again before he had slid into the bed with her.

They had fallen into a blissful sleep. Rhiannon didn’t like this abrupt shift. Not one whit.

“I’m responsible for myself,” she countered. “And I’m fully capable of walking to the dining room for breakfast. I’ve managed to do so every day thus far without you spiriting a tray of food to me.”

“Don’t argue, minx. Eat.” He presented her with a plate laden with food.

All things she liked, of course. And she was hungry. She could dislike the cool demeanor he was presenting her and still accept his offer of food, Rhiannon decided, taking the plate from him.

Their fingers brushed, and a frisson of awareness skipped up her elbow and landed low in her belly.

Those fingers of his had been all over her last night. Inside her. And his tongue.

Heat blossomed on her cheeks at the memory.

“Are you going to eat as well?” she asked, trying to shake her embarrassment by distracting herself.

“I already ate hours ago. It’s nearly noon.”

“Noon?”

The revelation surprised her. Rhiannon wasn’t ordinarily a slugabed.

“The time of day when it is officially afternoon and no longer morning,” he drawled. “Also known as midday.”

The vexing man. She glanced back up at him, holding her plate with one hand and her blankets with the other. How did he expect her to eat whilst she was naked and he was presiding over her?

She pinned him with a glare. “I am more than aware of what the word noon means.”

His lips twitched. “You seemed confused. I was merely attempting to aid you.”

“Hmm,” she said, deciding to settle the plate on the bed at her side.

The fork clattered and skittered to the sheets, but she retrieved it, determined to have her repast. Her body had certainly worked up an appetite the night before.

She was also deliciously sore in places she hadn’t previously known existed.

And she soon had to make use of the water closet.

But none of these were things she had any intention of telling the ridiculously gorgeous man sitting on her bed.

She could hold her pee for an eternity if it meant avoiding the mortification of telling him she needed to relieve herself.

So instead, Rhiannon turned her attention to eating the small feast he had brought her. Despite his protestation otherwise, it had been both thoughtful and kind of him. She hoped he didn’t regret what had happened between them, for she had every intention of it happening again.

A not-quite-comfortable silence fell between them as she began to eat. But a few bites and she grew weary of his quiet regard.

She glanced up at him, waving a hunk of fresh pineapple that she had skewered on the end of her fork. “Do you do this with all your mistresses? Bring them breakfast and then stare at them in thorny silence?”

“I wasn’t aware that silence could be thorny. How delightfully descriptive you are.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well?”

“I don’t have mistresses.”

“Your mistress , then. When you had one, that is.” Rhiannon popped the pineapple into her mouth.

It was juicy and delicious. But thinking about Richford’s other lovers left a sour taste in her mouth all the same. Why had she asked? She swallowed hard, the pineapple going down her throat like a lump.

“I’ve never had a mistress,” he said coolly.

She glanced back up at him, surprised. “But you’re a wicked rake.”

He gave her a small smile. “One who dislikes arrangements involving commitment of any sort.”

Rhiannon had the distinct impression he was trying to build a separation between them. Or perhaps manage her expectations. Was he warning her away from him?

“Then I am your first mistress,” she decided.

“You’re not my mistress, minx.”

“Of course I am. You agreed to an understanding last night.”

“No, I agreed to relieve you of your virginity so that you wouldn’t do something foolish and give yourself to some callous cad who wouldn’t give a damn about your pleasure.”

She stabbed another pineapple with the tines of her fork and wondered if she should point out that he was behaving like a callous cad at the moment, his offering of breakfast aside.

“Does that mean I am free to find another lover for this evening?” she asked instead.

“Don’t even think about it, minx.”

“Why not? If you don’t want to bed me, then I’m sure I can find someone else who will.” Grinning, she chewed her pineapple, quite pleased with herself.

“I’ll beat any man here to within an inch of his life who dares to lay so much as a finger on you,” he said conversationally.

But the underlying current of menace in his voice told her Aubrey was deadly serious.

The frustrating man. He had been so attentive last night, so considerate.

His intentional coldness was discomfiting.

She was baiting him, it was true, for there was no other man she wanted.

Not here at Wingfield Hall or anywhere else.

Only the beautiful emerald-eyed rake currently glaring at her from the edge of her bed.

“I should think that would be quite detrimental to your club’s ability to attract new patrons,” she pointed out, stabbing a sliced strawberry and bringing it to her lips.

His gaze slid to her mouth. “I could not care less about new patrons at the moment. I’m too busy trying to keep a headstrong hoyden from ruining herself.”

She swallowed the sweet berry, then licked the juice from her lower lip. “What if it isn’t your job to keep her from doing so?”

He groaned. “Are you trying to kill me, woman? You are, aren’t you?”

“I can assure you that I’m not in the least bit homicidal.” She took up a raspberry next.

And that was when her grip on the bedclothes slipped, sending them pooling to her waist and revealing both breasts.

His expression changed, his eyes darkening with lust. “Bloody hell, Rhiannon.”

Could it be that she was having an effect on the cool, calculated rake? Emboldened, she left the blankets where they were, the cool air of the room making her nipples go hard.

She placed the plump red raspberry in her mouth and chewed. “Mmm.”

“Are you finished with breakfast?” he asked, his voice low and deep.

“Why?”

“Because I find I’m hungry for a second breakfast after all.”

“Oh?”

He moved across the bed toward her. “You.”

Well. It would seem he could be tempted.

Rhiannon bit back a smile. “I’m still a bit hungry.”

“Then I’ll feed you.”

Heat unfurled deep within her. “How gentlemanly of you.”

He pulled his lean form alongside her, bracing himself on one hand as he reached for a strawberry with the other. “Eat.”

She intentionally nipped his fingers as she took the berry slice from him.

“You bit me.”

She chewed, enjoying herself immensely. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to.”

His eyes narrowed. “Hmm.”

He picked up a hunk of pineapple next, and she licked his thumb.

“You would test the patience of a saint, madam.”

She chewed the pineapple and swallowed. “Fortunately, you’re not a saint. However, you did say that you didn’t want to honor our understanding, so if I nipped you, I can’t be blamed.”

“I never said I didn’t want to honor it. Those were your words, not mine. I said that I don’t keep mistresses, and certainly not the innocent younger sister of my friend.”

She held his gaze. “Not so innocent now.”

“Better me than bloody Carnis,” he growled.

The reminder of Reginald was most unwanted. At the moment, she would prefer that she was never leaving this idyll. That Aubrey would somehow fall hopelessly in love with her over the remaining days of the house party and ask her to marry him instead, preposterous as such a dream was.

“I thought you said I wasn’t supposed to speak his name,” she managed, all too aware that the bedclothes were still at her waist.

“You’re not.” He reached for a raspberry next, but this time, instead of bringing it to her lips, he placed it on her nipple. “Now hush, because I’m famished.”