Page 7 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

Chapter Seven

O ver the last week, to say that he had restless nights would be a gross understatement. His mind had been consumed with thoughts of a certain brown-eyed witch who had no right to put him under her thrall.

In the last week, he had developed the habit of going to his club to engage in energetic boxing and fencing in the hope of physically exerting himself and possibly burning away whatever sorcery she had wrought on his mind. Instead, he got injuries and restless nights for his troubles.

The moment his exhausted eyes closed in slumber, she haunted him in his dreams. It was a common occurrence for him to wake up at night, his bedsheets twisted and wet from erotic dreams in which she was the main character.

He was sure that if she were to become aware of the contents of those dreams, she would run away from the perverted world that was his mind.

She had successfully turned him into an absentminded, sleep-deprived, irritable man who was addicted to cold baths and horse riding.

Richard heaved himself to the edge of his bed, getting up to his full height. He performed his morning ablutions and then rang the bell for his valet.

In a few minutes, the man arrived in a bloody cheerful mood that set Richard’s teeth on edge. He wondered what had the younger man in such a disgustingly happy mood.

Since his former valet died, he had been replaced by his son, who he must admit was quite good at his job, if not for his tendency to chatter.

Usually, Richard welcomed his chatter because it made quite a bright opening for his day, but he was not feeling quite bright this morning—and all the mornings this week, if he was being honest. He was actively fighting the urge to yell at the younger man to shut up.

Stan was a good lad who did his job amazingly well. It wouldn’t do to antagonize him simply because of his recent black moods.

In half an hour, Stan had managed to transform him into a proper gentleman, which was a welcome upgrade from the untamed pagan he must have resembled earlier this morning. But even Stan’s best efforts could not erase the black bags under his eyes and the excess energy that simmered beneath his skin.

It seemed another early morning ride was in order. That way, he could burn off the excess energy and also avoid the presence of… Catherine.

Catherine, who had quickly become the bane of his existence. He was supposed to be her instructor, but what he felt towards her did not feel instructor-like at all.

When he stepped onto the landing, he saw Emmy handing a letter to the footman and saying something about sending it to Bath.

Richard furrowed his brow in curiosity. Who was in Bath, he wondered.

“Who is in Bath?” he asked as he came up behind her.

Emmy jumped, snatching the letter from the footman and hiding it behind her skirts. Her eyes darted around in guilt.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion at her reaction. He had known Emmy since she was an infant, and now she was definitely hiding something. Something she knew was going to get her in trouble with him.

He straightened to his full height, lifting his chin. “Give me the letter, Emmy,” he said firmly, his hand outstretched.

“It is mine, and no matter how much you try to intimidate me, I am not giving it to you,” she huffed, jutting her chin in defiance.

It seemed the little imp had really matured, since his usual intimidation tactics no longer fazed her. It seemed it was time to change tactics.

“Why are you trying so hard to conceal that letter? You are not doing something illegal, are you?” he asked, softening his voice.

But despite the change in his tone, the look of defiance in her eyes remained. She tried to run past him, but he used his body to block her path.

“Where do you think you are going, young lady? We have not concluded our discussion, and you haven’t told me what’s in that letter,” he said irritatedly.

He was definitely not in the mood for this altercation so early in the morning. Unfortunately, he had the thankless duty of protecting a young lady who was becoming more headstrong by the day.

“The earlier you give me the information I seek, the faster you will be free to return to your chambers,” he added.

It was quite uncharacteristic of Emmy to prolong a disagreement. She was more likely to give up so she could have her peace. The fact that she was steadfast in withholding that letter caused his hackles to rise, and they rose even higher when she used a tactic that had been used by all schoolroom girls.

She threw a tantrum.

Her eyes narrowed, and she stomped her feet.

“I am seventeen, Richie. I am a young lady now, and you are not entitled to read my letters, so drop your overbearing attitude and allow me to go up to my room.”

That annoyed him even more.

“Don’t you ever stomp your feet at me as long as you live under my roof. You remain my ward, and you must follow my rules for as long as you live here. If you refuse, I will forbid you from going to the park again.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she huffed, flushing with outrage.

“Watch me,” he returned, a smirk on his face that was guaranteed to annoy her even more.

However, she still did not give up the letter. There were few things that could make a young lady send a secret letter, the prime example being a secret lover, and if Emmy had one, he had to know.

He was not going to allow his only sister to bring ruin upon herself, and—God forbid—he did not fancy the idea of chasing her down to Gretna Green.

He opened his mouth once again to demand answers but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat rather loudly.

He turned to find Catherine standing a few feet from them, watching them with an amused look on her face. He knew he was supposed to feel embarrassed or annoyed by her expression. Instead, he was transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away from the sheer magnetism she radiated.

Today she wore an emerald-green walking dress with a slightly low bust that exposed the creamy skin of her cleavage, which became even more enticing when she folded her arms over her chest.

She was solely oblivious to the effect that action was having on him. It seemed the lady had the uncanny ability to drive him crazy without any effort.

Her hair was arranged in multiple curls, with several strands hanging around her face to give her that windswept look. On any other woman, her hair would have looked unkempt. And now he was fighting the urge to bury his fingers in her hair and tug on it.

The thought of having her dark hair spread across his immaculate bedsheets heightened his arousal. It seemed that he was definitely going to need to have several cold baths in the future.

“Your Grace,” she called, snapping him out of his reverie

She was advancing towards him with a concerned look on her face. He subconsciously took a step back, and he watched her eyes fill with pain. But that was probably better than the alternative. He was quite certain that if she touched him, he would have a hard time not ravishing her right there in the hall with no care for who was watching.

It seemed that Catherine had interpreted his reaction as him being disgusted by her, and that was rather evident by the way she squared her shoulders and jutted her chin.

“I am here to resume Emmy’s dancing lessons. Every fashionable lady is expected to at least be an average dancer, don’t you think?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I…” His voice came out hoarse, and he coughed in other to clear it. “I think that is fine,” he replied evenly.

He turned back to see that his sister was looking at him. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and at that point, he was glad for his long coat, as it hid his arousal from his unwitting audience.

His sister was soon distracted by Catherine’s call for her to proceed to the ballroom for their lessons.

Richard knew he should have left at that moment, but for some unfathomable reason, he found himself following them to the ballroom. It seemed that there was an invisible string that tethered him to Catherine, causing him to move in her direction without conscious thought.

It was mortifying, but he held on to the excuse of watching his sister dance. He was only being a supportive brother, and he was so going to ignore the tiny voice in his head that called him a liar. He was going to deny it for as long as he could because there was no reality in which he developed feelings or an attachment to a stuffy young woman who also happened to be a bluestocking. It was unacceptable that this lady also managed to draw his attention much easier than an entire circus.

He was fast becoming obsessed with her, and he knew he had to do something about it.

When they arrived at the ballroom, Catherine started teaching Emmy the basics of court dance, and he was quite impressed by the simplicity of her language and demonstrations. Emmy was nodding enthusiastically to show she understood, but the way her eyes darted around proved that she understood nothing. That fact became evident when they stood up to dance, with Catherine taking up the lead.

Catherine was remarkably calm and stopped, making sure to explain the steps again, but it was to no avail. Richard was feeling sorry for her toes because it seemed that his ungraceful sister had managed to step on them with each movement.

When they stopped the second time, Richard could not ignore the urge to tease his sister as he noticed the look of frustration on her face.

“It seemed that someone has had the misfortune of being blessed with two left feet. It is a miracle that you didn’t throw Cathy over with your exceptional dancing skills,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk that was sure to annoy her.

Predictably, her scowl deepened. “I would wager that I was a much better dancer than you were at my age.”

“No, my darling,” he drawled. “I have always been a good dancer because I always attended my dance classes. Unlike you, who ran away to play in the garden whenever the dance master showed up.”

“No, that is not true. Alvey told me a story of you almost tripping your dance partner during one of the balls you attended,” she said, a triumphant smile on her face.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, princess, but that was pure fiction. Alvey only made that story up to console you when he realized you couldn’t dance,” he replied mockingly.

An unholy delight filled his being as he watched her triumphant smile turn into a dark scowl.

She opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted by Catherine.

“That’s enough, both of you. Your Grace, I am surprised you would argue like a child,” she scolded.

But Richard didn’t feel any remorse at all. For some reason, the disapproving look on Catherine’s face made her more attractive to him. If he needed any other proof that he was addled, that thought just confirmed it.

“You could help Emmy, since you seem to have a wealth of knowledge,” Catherine added.

“How do you suppose I do that? I can hardly break her head to force such knowledge into it.”

At that statement, his sister shot him a withering look that only made him laugh harder.

“You could dance with me,” Catherine suggested.

At that, Richard fell silent. While he would love nothing more than to be close to her, he also recognized the danger that such proximity presented to his self-control.

“Afraid, aren’t we?” Catherine taunted, noticing his hesitation.

It was quite unfortunate, but Richard had never been able to refuse a challenge, and he was not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking that she intimidated him on the dance floor.

Pushing off the wall, he made his way towards her, and when he stopped before her, he saw her eyes flash with awareness.

No matter how she pretended, it was obvious that she was affected by his proximity, and it soothed some part of him to know that he was not the only one suffering from the madness that seemed to consume him.

He executed a deep bow and offered her his hand, which she accepted. Then he placed one hand on her waist while she rested her other hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath to brace himself and then began dancing.

With every whirl, he was becoming so intoxicated with her scent that he unconsciously leaned in, drawing her closer to breathe her in.

Unfortunately, his partner did not anticipate that move, and she tripped over his foot, catching herself at the last minute by holding on to his shoulders.

“I think you are the one with the two left feet, and you are holding me too closely,” she said in an angry tone, her color high and her chest heaving with exertion.

“I held you to prevent you from falling,” he returned hotly.

“I never asked you to rescue me—I can do that myself,” she scoffed.

“You are a thoroughly vexing woman. I will never dance with you again,” he replied, his voice rising.

“You are the arrogant one who cannot seem to do anything right,” she spat.

Richard was distantly aware that both of them were not reacting out of anger, but a rising heat that could only be expressed through anger, or else it would boil over into searing passion. But he couldn’t stop himself from drawing breath to continue their shouting match.

Suddenly, the sound of a chair scraping on the floor drew his attention. He turned to see Emmeline trying to sneak away. He had totally forgotten about her.

“Where do you think you are going?” he asked her, his voice unnaturally high-pitched.

“Let her go,” Catherine interjected with a daring tilt to her chin. “I think you are the one who requires dancing classes.”

“You know what,” he said, his voice dropping to a sensual whisper, “I should continue our lessons.” He stepped closer to her. “Always compliment a man, never insult him.”

Her pupils dilated with awareness.

“I do not compliment those who have done nothing to deserve it,” she scoffed.

“I could give you something to compliment me about,” he purred, his eyes fixed on her cherry-red lips.

It happened so fast. One moment he was admiring her plump lips, the next he was tasting them. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it, and was rewarded by a moan as she tightened her arms around his neck. His tongue darted out and probed her lips, but they remained closed.

Moving lower, he took her earlobe in his mouth, enjoying how she writhed in pleasure.

“Second rule. When a man kisses you, kiss him back,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire.

He kissed up the column of her throat before returning to her lips. He proceeded to kiss her again, and this time when his tongue probed her lips, she opened her mouth, allowing him entry.

He kissed her senseless, his arousal increasing with every moan that slipped past her lips.

The fever in his blood urged him to find a flat surface to lay her down on to consummate their passion, but he was saved by the sound of Emmeline’s feet running down the stairs towards them.

He released Catherine abruptly, causing her to sag against the wall, and moved away from the temptation that was her body. He pretended to pour himself some brandy while his hand shook with desire.

He was dimly aware of Emmy walking back into the room and Catherine making excuses to leave.

“I have to get something at the modiste for my mother,” she said to his sister.

He was surprised that her voice was steady because, at the moment, he couldn’t trust himself to speak.

“Are you alright?” Emmy asked, and he could hear the concern in her voice.

Of course, his sister was concerned about her friend because he was sure Catherine looked slightly disheveled despite her efforts to fix her hair and dress.

“I am quite fine,” Catherine replied. “I have to hurry.”

Richard heard the sound of footsteps hurrying towards the door as she called out her goodbyes.

When the door of the ballroom clicked shut, he braced himself for the questioning that was sure to follow.

“What did you do to Catherine that caused her to hurry out of the room in such a manner?”

“Why would you think I did anything to her?” he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

“I left you here with her, and I come back to see her running away in fear. It stands to reason that you had something to do with it.”

Richard chose not to answer that question, instead taking a bracing sip of his brandy because there was no way he was going to explain to his innocent sister that he had been moments away from ravishing her dear friend. He aimed to protect her innocence even though he burned with the need to claim her friend.

But it seemed he also needed to protect Catherine from the monster inside him, and he needed to do it fast, starting with a cold dip in the lake nearby.