Page 5 of Master of Games (The Duke Fraternity #4)

CHAPTER FOUR

“Whom did I meet?” he asked with a chuckle as he pushed to his feet, rolling his shoulders in a tentative test. “That is a very interesting question.”

Tabbie went absolutely pale as her hands pressed to her stomach. “Forget about it. I don’t wish to know.”

He could hear the shake in her voice. Why? Was she worried she wouldn’t like the answer? He crossed the room, his entire body aching, as he pulled the bell cord himself.

Then he turned back to her. He could continue down this path of telling her that she was the person who’d changed his outlook, but she wasn’t ready to hear it.

She’d simply tell him that he’d gone mad with the fever, so he changed tact. “Did I propose last night?”

“Yes,” she answered in a voice so quiet that it was almost inaudible. “You did.”

He stopped in front of her, looking down at her wide eyes and parted lips. So beautiful… “Did you answer?”

Her jaw dropped, her mouth forming an O. “You didn’t mean it. You were only worried you’d die.”

“Is that a no then?”

“You’d regret it once you’ve recovered. You don’t wish to be tied down in marriage and certainly not to me.” She took a step back, her features tightening in pain.

As strong as Tabbie was, she had a gaping wound that she wasn’t able to hide. He understood. He had one of those too.

And much as he’d like to press the issue, he sensed that he ought to slow down, return to his first plan. Woo her.

She deserved some romance. Some time to play. And if there was one area of life he had always excelled in, it was having fun.

“I’m feeling weaker. You were right, I shouldn’t have risen from the bed.”

She instantly stepped closer, her arms coming about his middle. He locked his good arm about her waist, pulling her tightly to his body.

Damn, she felt good.

Tabbie didn’t seem to notice that he didn’t lean his weight into her as she turned to the side, her arms still around him, and she began to guide him back toward the bed.

Her silken hands splayed out on his back, her shoulder pushing up into his armpit to bear some of his weight. “What can I do?”

That was the moment that the door opened. “You rang, mum?” A footman asked from the doorway, his eyes only widening slightly at the sight of his mistress helping a half-naked man back into bed.

“A breakfast tray and bath water shortly after,” Tabbie answered, lowering him onto the mattress.

Caden settled in with a sigh, his hand sliding into hers as he tugged her down to sit next to him, her hip pressed to his.

As a rake, he knew all sorts of tricks to keep a woman touching him, keep her engaged even when she wasn’t certain she wished to be.

He’d use every one of those tricks now.

“Yes, mum. Right away.”

His hand settled on her other hip, keeping her tight to his body. “Bring pastries,” he called to the footman.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the man said with a bow and then disappeared, his quick footsteps thudding down the hall despite the thick carpet.

“Pastries?” Tabbie asked, her brow furrowing in the most adorable way. “You should be drinking broth, not eating sweets.”

“The sweets are for you,” he answered, closing his eyes and trying not to smile. “You need your strength after last night.”

“I am fine, I have plenty of strength.”

“Oh good. In that case, tell me about your novel idea while we wait.”

“You remembered that?”

“I did. And I’m dying to know, well, hopefully not literally, what you plan to write about?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. I’d sincerely only just considered the notion when a rake arrived at my door on horseback.”

He gave her hip the smallest squeeze. “Is that the beginning of your book? Or will it be about the vapid debutantes who fill ballrooms?”

“Do not speak about them that way.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of them will surely be the woman you actually marry.”

He snorted, because he’d never marry one of those women, but also, he could see that Tabbie had a terribly low opinion of him. Which he deserved. Yet another hurdle. Good thing he’d come to like a challenge. “Not a chance.”

But he’d have to go about changing her opinion all the while giving her a bit of fun. It was a difficult needle to thread to be certain.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ironheart. You’re a duke, you’ll have to marry.”

“Of that you are correct. I shall have to marry a woman of excellent birth.”

“And she’ll need to be beautiful and accomplished.”

“Indeed, she shall.” He slid his hand down her leg, feeling the shapeliness of her thigh through the layers of her skirts and petticoats.

“And likely everyone will think you’ve made the most excellent choice.”

His eyes opened at that. “What does that matter? Most people are fools.”

It was her turn to snort. And then smile. “Too true.” And then he felt her relax deeper into his side.

The footman returned with a tray in both his hands, loaded with tea, cakes, broth, and biscuits. He set it down on the table next to the bed and Tabbie rose, her body leaving his.

He was famished, and food would help return his strength, but he still missed the feel of her as she poured him a steaming mug of broth.

He pulled himself up into sitting, taking the mug with his good hand and bringing it to his lips.

The broth felt amazing on his throat and with every sip, more of his strength returned.

She poured herself tea, taking several large swallows.

“Would you mind putting some jam on a biscuit for me?” he said between sips.

“Of course,” she answered, setting down the tea and slicing a biscuit on which she slathered some strawberry jam.

She carried it toward him, attempting to place the biscuit in his hand. But he caught her wrist instead, and directed the food, still in her hand, toward his mouth.

He felt her pulse pick up speed under his fingers as he took a large bite, one of her fingers brushing his face.

A dab of the jam fell onto her hand, and swallowing his bite, he shifted the angle and then wrapped his lips around her skin, sucking off the sweet, red juice as he lightly nipped at her flesh.

If her pulse had been racing before, it beat frantically now, rushing against the pads of his fingers.

He smiled against her skin.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Tabbie’s heart beat like a drum in her chest as Ironheart sucked at her skin. What in the world was happening?

She’d seen Ironheart conduct a seduction, but she’d had no idea how that might feel. How the touch of his lips on her skin might make every sensible thought leave her head, only one idea remaining that was not sensible at all.

More.

She wanted more.

Which was ridiculous. She knew exactly who this man was, exactly what he wanted, and precisely what he’d do after he got it.

And as much as she’d like to bask in his attention, take this one rare opportunity, she could ill afford what would happen after she gave herself to him. Rejection was an emotion she’d felt far too keenly. To lose his affection would crush her.

She understood it plainly, despite how often she’d told herself that she needed no man.

Her body would submit to his, because it was starved for this sort of affection and then…her heart would break.

She tried to tug her hand from his grasp, but for a man who’d claimed to be feeling weak, his grip on her wrist was amazingly strong as he held her hand in place, kissing down the outside of her palm to the sensitive skin of her wrist.

She hardly moved, barely breathed as he dragged his teeth along her flesh. Dear lord, but he was good at this. At making her pulse rise and filling her with a breathless want that quieted every voice of dissent.

The best she could do was sit still, silently allowing the onslaught to her senses. His hand danced over her skin, moving toward her elbow and his lips followed.

Thankfully, she still wore long sleeves and his progress was stopped before he reached the marred skin of her scars.

Scars.

It was this thought that finally broke the trance, and giving a good tug, she pulled her arm from his grasp. “Ironheart.”

“Caden.”

“Ironheart,” she repeated, this time through locked teeth. “You must keep your lips to yourself.”

That made him smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I shall try, but you taste delicious covered in jam.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

One of his eyebrows rose up. “Would you care to test how I might taste with jam on my skin?”

A squeak fell from her lips even as her body gave the most treacherous pulse of desire. “No.” But the hoarseness of her voice gave her away. She’d very much like to lick jam off him.

She was going to hell.

Or perhaps she was already there.

“Are you certain? It’s fun.”

She gave her head a small shake. “How many women would you say you tested the act out on, in order to determine that it is a fun activity?”

He grimaced and her stomach dropped. Because while he was a rake, and her question was likely fair, it also wasn’t all that kind.

“I cannot change my past, Tabbie. I wish that I could.” He gently removed the biscuit from her hand and then brought it to his own mouth. “I’ll have to accept if it’s a hurdle you can’t see yourself clearing. But I’d like for you to give me the chance to try and prove I’m a different man.”

Slowly, she blinked, attempting to absorb those words.

Was he really attempting to tell her that he’d mended his ways and he was reformed? Part of her jumped to believe it.

But the part that had taught her to be wary, had learned the hard way how cruel people could be, pulled her enthusiasm back.

Believing him now would cause nothing but pain. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

And then she pushed off the bed, standing over him.

She might have said more, but the tub arrived, a parade of footmen bringing the large metal container into the room and setting it near the fire as more came with bucket after bucket of water.

When the tub had been filled, they left again, the door softly closing behind the last footman.

Ironheart rose again, swinging his legs over the side and began to unbutton the falls of his breeches.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Taking a bath,” he answered, rising up from the bed. “You’re welcome to join me.”