Page 63 of Dukes All Night Long
M eanwhile, Kate finished her tea, allowed herself to eat two more scones, and walk one more lap around the room.
She did not care to be left alone with idle thoughts on good evenings; her current situation made it nearly unbearable.
She felt unmoored in more ways than one.
It was humiliating to be bartered like a horse, but it was confusing to be shut away with a man like Duke—more so when there was something about him that niggled her memory.
She knew she’d never met Duke before that night, but there was something about the way he moved and the color of his eyes… and then there were the cats…
Kate gave herself a mental shake and frantically cast about for something to do, something that might help rein in her slipping sanity. Her eyes turned toward the enormous desk and the stacks of ledgers and papers upon it.
She knew she shouldn’t. Everything in her body told her it was a horrendously awful idea.
But she was curious. Sidling over to the desktop, she surreptitiously scanned the top piece of parchment.
Unless one found invoices from whiskey distilleries to be fascinating, it was nothing of import.
She nudged it aside and found a list of accounts.
The minutes ticked by and still Duke did not return.
She wound up perching upon the edge of his chair—confirming her suspicion that it was far more comfortable than the one set on the opposite side—and flipped through page after page of missives and ledgers.
Some lords attempted to plead their case to gain membership to the club.
Some letters were thinly veiled threats to Duke’s person; others were offers of bribes and properties if Duke would only allow them a little more credit.
One stack was particularly interesting because it contained columns with entirely unexpected labels.
Kate abandoned all other correspondence for that book, her eyes widening as she read.
She was so engrossed in the information that she didn’t hear the key scrape inside of the lock. She did not look up when Duke re-entered the room and pressed the door closed with a click and snick of the bolt.
Duke’s low growl was, however, enough to make her jump in her seat. “What are you doing?”
Heart pounding, Kate initially attempted to mask her actions, but she knew it was futile. “I—I was bored and I thought—”
“To poke through my private paperwork,” he finished for her.
Kate felt her cheeks ignite, but she never looked away from his glowering countenance.
“I know I had no right to do so, but you were gone far longer than a quarter of an hour.” She held up her hand when he would have chastised her further.
“I realize that is no excuse, but…Duke…what is all of this?” She rose and carried with her the papers filled with orderly numbers as she approached him.
“Donations? Food and clothing? Medicine? You own entire blocks of housing?” Kate’s mouth hung open.
A muscle in Duke’s jaw flexed rhythmically; foreboding fire sparked in his eyes.
“Why do you hide this? You have done so much good for London’s people. ”
“A man does not help others with the desire for recognition,” he snapped, yanking the papers from her grasp.
He threw them aside in a heedless cascade and they floated and landed haphazardly, ruining the tidiness of the space.
He advanced on her— prowled toward her—inching her back across the room until her back collided with the wall. Still, he kept coming.
Every vertebrae melted into the dark wood paneling. The layers of her skirts were pressed between the wall and Duke’s legs as he towered over her, furious and menacing. He braced a hand just above each of her shoulders and he hovered. Glowering. Thunderous in his ire.
“Is it truly so bad to be viewed as something other than a villain? As someone who has put his wealth to better use than most titled men do?”
“Yes.” His voice reverberated with the same violence as the storm outside.
“Why?” Kate breathed, doing her best to ignore her pounding heart when it threatened to burst free from her chest.
“I care not of the ton ’s opinion, so long as they continue to fear me.”
“I do not understand. You are called the Duke of Covent Garden, but no one knows the truth of why. You reign not with fear, but empathy.”
“Ask any of the men below stairs and not one will use ‘empathetic’ as an adjective connected with my name.”
“Perhaps they should.”
“But people would view you so differently if they knew what kind of man you really are—”
“You have no idea the kind of man I am,” he snarled, pounding his fist on the wall beside her head so that the plaster quaked.
“The man my life has made me to be.” His nose nearly touched hers and the full length of his hard, hot body was a millimeter away—so close that her nipples would graze his chest if she took too deep a breath.
The rage poured off of him like an avalanche, striking her with such force that it was nearly suffocating.
But…somehow…Kate was not afraid.
No.
Her racing pulse, tingling nipples, and clenching thighs told her she was excited.
More excited than she’d ever been in her life.
His nostrils flared as if he could scent her sudden arousal.
It made her knees weak and her eyelids flutter.
Those piercing eyes of his caught the motion—of course they would.
Duke was not a man who missed anything. How else had he become one of the unofficial rulers of Covent Garden?
One of the richest men in London? He knew how to spot a person’s weakness and exploit it to his advantage.
How, she wondered, would he exploit her?
And would she mind?
She’d been ruined the moment her brother had offered her as collateral; her reputation was stained beyond repair as soon as her foot had crossed the threshold. That blemish spread further as the minutes transformed into hours, each tick of the clock damning her future.
So, what did it matter if Duke took her right there?
Claimed her mouth, her body for himself and marked her forever?
Exposed her to all the wonderful and glorious things her friends whispered about, the naughty drawings they tittered over, the secrets which might take place between a man and a woman?
Never before had such contemplations set Kate’s blood on fire… but they did when Duke was near.
Kate was surprised the thought didn’t terrify her more.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly parched lips and, of course, Duke’s eyes were riveted to the motion.
“If you were the kind of man you wanted everyone to believe you to be, then you would not have served me tea and scones,” Kate whispered, proud that her voice was steadier than she felt.
“You never would have ensured my comfort. You wouldn’t have a passel of cats visiting you for their nightly treat.
You would not have tried so hard to make yourself seem so fearful. ”
“Are you saying that I am all bark and no bite?” Duke leaned in closer, growling into her ear and sliding his knee between her legs until the pressure of his firm thigh was all that was keeping her upright.
“I am saying—” she exhaled shakily and tried again; “I am saying that you are a man who knows how to present a powerful front while also maintaining shreds of kindness and humanity.”
“Any humanity I had was snuffed out long ago, Lady Bell.”
His mouth slammed down over hers, suffocating her with its intensity, smothering her with its passion. There was nothing gentle about the kiss—it was both searching and possessive as he explored just how much of her he could take.
His tongue passed the seam of her lips and then swept inside. He licked deeply, stroking and tasting with incredible skill. She made a small, startled sound in the back of her throat as she was helpless in the face of his expertise, carried away by his invasion.
Duke’s hands remained planted on the wall on either side of her head, his body stayed a breath away from hers so only his mouth and his leg propping her up touched her, yet Kate felt utterly destroyed.
This was less because of what he did to her, and more so for the things he chose not to do.
He was so much larger and stronger than she.
It would have been nothing for him to bruise her arms in his grasp, to throw her to the ground and have his way with her, but his muscles hummed with his restraint.
Whether he realized it or not, he proved her point.
Kate nearly smiled when she began to meet his furious kisses. She followed his lead, tasting him as he did her, savoring his flavor of lemon cream and caramelized sugar—sweet and tart, wonderfully intoxicating.
Was it her imagination or did he emit a small groan when she began participating in the duel he’d been dominating, chasing his tongue with hers?
What would happen if she touched him?
Slowly, as one would a skittish stallion, she raised her hands and pressed them flat to his chest. She could feel his thundering heart stutter within its cage. Every one of Duke’s muscles tensed at her touch. He trembled just slightly, as if holding himself back.
When her hands slid up to his shoulders, he shuddered.
When her fingers found the back of his neck and her arms wound around him, his breathing stopped.
When she pulled his body flush with hers—finally receiving the friction she craved—something inside of Duke snapped.
One second, she was pressed against the wall engaged in an oral battle of give and take and the next, his large hands were cupping her bottom to drag her sex fully against his leg.
She was helpless as her aching core was brought into contact with the unforgiving surface.
He held her so tightly that her toes lost nearly all purchase; she dangled like a marionette held captive by Duke’s whims.
And, still, she was not afraid.