Page 5 of Promised to the Worst Duke in England (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #2)

Just after one in the afternoon

In the traveling coach

Imogen watched her husband from the bench opposite him in the traveling coach. They’d left London about an hour ago, bound for Averly Hall somewhere in Kent, and in that time, there had been approximately twelve words exchanged between them.

And there were at least two more hours to go.

In fact, the whole time they’d been in the coach, the duke—or rather her new husband—laid upon the well-squabbed leather bench and pretended he was asleep. His top hat rested on the bench near his booted feet. Of course, that was his prerogative, but she would be damned if he ignored her now or for the rest of their lives together.

“Will you tell me some of the history surrounding Averly Hall?”

He grunted, kept his eyes closed and his hands resting on his chest. “There is nothing for you to know.”

“I’ll wager there is, since I am now your wife, and as such, I am the Duchess of Averly. Where you go, I go as well.”

“Unfortunately.” He said nothing else.

“In which season do you like it there more?”

“It matters not.” His eyes still didn’t open.

This was much like talking to oneself. And it was beyond insulting from this man. “Fine. If you wish to act like an arse, that is how I will treat you.” But how to get through to this duke that was determined to shut her out? She glanced out the window and frowned at the passing countryside. Still overcast, it had yet to rain, and she almost wished that it would, for it would suit her mood.

When silence continued to stretch between them, she stifled a sigh as she transferred her attention to the man who was now her husband. Reddish brown hair set in a popular style covered his head and looked thick. The same color lashes lay in arcs on his cheeks while the sharp cut of his jaw practically screamed for closer investigation. Perhaps a handful of inches taller than her average height, as he was stretched out on the bench, it was all too easy to sweep her gaze over his lean form. Beneath the boots, breeches, and jacket of green superfine, would he have muscles in all the right places?

Then she shoved those errant thoughts from her mind, for she refused to have any sort of physical relationship with the man regardless of what he’d said as a veiled threat during the wedding ceremony, but she would make it very tense and tempting for him. A look but don’t touch sort of scenario where she held all the power while he had none.

“Why did you leave me earlier, not fifteen minutes after completing our nuptial ceremony to go visit with your mistress?”

He cracked open one eye to focus on her. “I have known her for years; she is a vital part of my life.”

“I am your wife, so your principal allegiance should be to me.” That was not negotiable. Their marriage might have been forced, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t all too real.

A chuckle escaped him, and regardless of how much she despised him, the sound of it shivered through her chest to awaken an awareness of him that was quite surprising. “While I appreciate those words, fidelity only applies to you when talking about lovers.”

“Ha!” She shook her head. “You think I have a lover?”

“Why not? You are reasonably attractive.”

“Oh, well thank you for such a back-handed compliment. I’ll be sure to dream of that in the coming days.” Bitterness fairly dripped from her response. “I haven’t taken a man into my bed for a couple of years.”

“Ah, so then I didn’t marry a virgin.” It wasn’t a question.

Imogen snorted. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

He shrugged. “No disappointment. I would rather not bed innocents. Too much drama.”

“Depends on the man.” When she’d willfully given away her maidenhead, it was to a groom at her father’s country estate, for she had decided if her uncle were dedicated enough to impugn her reputation and make her family believe she was a seducer of men, she might as well act like it. “None of that matters now.” She turned her head to regard the passing landscape once more. “Besides, my parents continually reminded me of my duty and that I was engaged to you, even if you didn’t act as if I were alive while you played at being a rake because you could, because you are a duke.”

And that was why he would suffer.

“I never wanted this union.”

So that would be his only defense and response? “Neither did I, but you could have called it off at any time. You are the one with the power, not I. That was between you and my father.”

That brought him upright. He planted the soles of his boots on the floorboards while resting his fisted hands on his thighs. “I tried to have the engagement nullified. Your father is quite stubborn, and he wants more than he was already given. He wants thousands of pounds once you bear an heir.”

“On that, you and I agree.” Silence brewed between them again. “What now?”

“You can have your life while I continue to live mine. That was always the plan.”

“Except I’m to allow you to bed me and get me with child. No choice in either, hmm?” When he focused fully on him, and his expression didn’t change from grim boredom, she narrowed her eyes. “My freedom is gone, and I must submit to your whims?”

“Is that not the role of women in our society?” Before she could do more than sputter, he continued. “Buck up, Lady Averly, you are a duchess. You’ll have access to anything you want at your fingertips. Isn’t that enough for you?” Bitterness threaded through his words. “Isn’t that what every woman in the damned beau monde wishes?”

“In a word? No.” She shook her head. “We want security, companionship, and if we are fortunate, love.” Though that was far out of her reach after what she’d done in her life.

He snorted. “Well, security you have merely by wedding me. Your future is what you’ll make of it, and we can quite possibility have companionship.” Though his expression remained grim. “But love? That is something I can never give you or even share with you. I’m not capable of it.”

“God, how arrogant are you?” The man was in the same league as her father in vices and greed. “As much as I appreciate you taking me away from my parents as well as my father’s aspirations to be something he is most certainly not, I refuse to spend the rest of my life bowing and scraping to man who is even more despicable.”

Instead of replying, he sprang forward, pounced on her with a hand at her throat, then claimed her lips in a powerful kiss that served no other purpose than to show his dominance. Within that meeting of mouths, Imogen was shown the power that the duke kept banked, and she would be a liar if it didn’t terrify her, but it also sent a shockwave and pure desire through her. Afterward, he shoved her back against the squabs and then resumed his place.

“I might be despicable, but I am your husband, for better or for worse, so you’d best square with that, Imogen. We’re together until such time as I have my heir and perhaps a spare. After that, I’ll settle you wherever in the world you should wish to reside, and you may live out the remainder of your existence apart from me. Isn’t that what the both of us want anyway?” The sound of her name in his voice and on his tongue sent a host of shivers down her spine. “Life isn’t always fair; we all know this.”

Quick tears prickled the backs of her eyelids, but she blinked them away. She would not show emotion before this bastard. “If that is the line by which you want to live by, then fine. We shall play that game, but you will not grace my bed tonight.” Yet after that kiss, she was curious about what such a thing might feel like. “I don’t care if it’s our wedding day.” If the man wanted an heir, he could damn well figure out how to make that happen by himself, for she refused to get close to a man like him in such a way.

“Are you threatening a duke?” he asked with a sardonic grin as he leaned back against the squabs of his bench. “Not a good decision on the first day of our union.”

“It wouldn’t be my first mistake.” Then a plan came to her that was so devious that she chuckled. “You don’t mind if I make myself more comfortable on this journey to imprisonment, do you?” As she spoke, she removed her spencer as well as her bonnet. Both garments were tossed to the bench beside her.

“Do what you will. I care not.” So saying, he glanced out the window, ignoring her.

“How generous of you, Your Grace.” Oh, he would pay, and then she would laugh. There was more than one way to wield power in a relationship. “It is quite warm inside this coach, don’t you think?” Daring much, she manipulated the handle of a crank that let her roll down the window glass part of the way. A modicum of relatively cooler air came into the coach to stir tendrils of hair that clung to her neck and cheeks.

“A bit, I suppose.” He watched her with eyelids at half-mast.

“Mmm.” Did she have the courage to do this next bit? And if she did, would he put a stop to it? Then she stiffened her spine. Well, she wouldn’t let him, for if she were to survive any of this, she needed to show herself as a force. “I am feeling particularly bothered… and quite wicked this afternoon.”

Another grunt. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Yet he closed his eyes, clearly uninterested.

Insufferable ogre.

There was no going back from this moment. She bit back a huff of frustration, for this was nothing more than doing the same in her bed at night in the dark when she felt particularly consumed with feelings of need. Slowly, watching him ignore her the whole time, Imogen undid the few buttons at the front of her traveling dress then pulled the bodice down. She did the same with her petticoat as well as the stays until her breasts were freed. It was a bit scandalous doing this in the daylight hours and in front of a man, but there was nothing for it. Her prick of a husband had driven her to this.

What began as a way to torture and tease the duke quickly became a way to relieve tension, fear, and uncertainty as she brushed her fingers over her nipples until they hardened into puckered buds. An involuntary moan left her throat while the first tingling sensations went through her body to ignite fire into her blood.

Her breathing shallowed as she continued to manipulate her nipples, circling them with her fingertips, pulling and plucking on the buds to accelerate and deepen the pleasure pushing through her being. By the time another moan escaped, her back arched of its own volition, for she’d learned long ago how to work her own body to provide maximum sensation. Since her banishment men didn’t go out of their way to seek her out or ask for her hand, and she needed something to help calm her nerves and disappointments.

“Oooh.” When she bothered to look at her husband, a twinge of surprise shot down her spine to find him watching her with rounded eyes. “Such stimulation is always so satisfying. Only once have I brought myself to completion merely from this sort of play.” And that had been quite by accident. It had made her scream in her bedchamber so loudly that a maid had come running, where Imogen had lied and said a mouse had climbed onto her bed.

As shuddering need circled through her lower belly, she briefly met his gaze. His had darkened to a deep emerald from his usual hazel then she put him from her mind. It was his own fault, and he deserved every rejection that would come his way. She didn’t need to exaggerate the sounds of pleasure she made, but it was fun to draw out that for him.

Closing her eyes but inwardly rejoicing that he watched her, Imogen sneaked a hand down her torso. Slowly, inch by inch, she drew up her skirting and parted her legs. A slight inhalation of breath on his part gave away his interest. It took very little effort to slide a couple of fingertips through her slippery folds enough to coax out that sensitive little button from hiding.

“Oh, heavens, it won’t take long this afternoon.” It wasn’t a lie and neither was it theatrics, for each time she changed the friction on that nubbin, pressure coiled and stacked in her lower belly. Such as it always did whenever she needed that specific release. Moans came in time to how she moved her hips while providing more and more friction. Faint whimpering noises came from her throat. “Almost there…” With her other hand, she pinched and plucked at a nipple to provide even more stimulation. Seconds later, something broke within her. Pleasure descended in a strong wave that swept her away. “Ah!” As she let the contractions in her core envelop her body, Imogen opened her eyes to find her husband staring at her with a slightly lax jaw and an impressive bulge at the front of his buff-colored breeches.

Then she slumped against the squabs. With an arched eyebrow, she said, “God, that was just what I needed. Was it good for you?”

A growl of perhaps anger came from him. “Do you think you were clever with the exhibition? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

She snorted as she sat up. “Oh, I had hoped you would. If you wish to be an arsehole regarding our marriage, then I am going to make it as insufferable for you as it is for me.”

“I’d no idea you’d prove a harridan,” he practically snarled as he rubbed his erection through the fabric of his breeches.

“How could you know me at all when you never made an effort?” Tugging her clothing back into place, she smiled, which apparently infuriated him. “You had twenty-one years to call before you wed me, but you didn’t.” The lethargic feelings brought on by the release faded as her dander went up. After she did up the few buttons of her traveling dress, she sighed. “In this, you will reap what you sowed, Your Grace, for I won’t give in.”

“Like hell you won’t.” Again, he moved faster than she’d anticipated. One second, she was seated on her bench, the next, he yanked her off it and forced her onto her knees between his splayed ones. “What right do you have to conduct such a display in front of me?”

“I have every right.” Though fear twisted down her spine, she glared back at him. The emerald depths of his eyes held tiny golden flecks that swam through those depths. “If you wish to ignore me or treat me as if I don’t matter, I’ll do whatever the hell I want.” When she attempted to move away, he clamped a hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t think so, Your Grace.” As he held her gaze, he wrenched the buttons of his frontfalls open. When his engorged shaft fell out, he took himself in hand. “I’m not the worst duke in England for nothing.” After moving his other hand from her shoulder into her hair, he closed his fist in her tresses. Pinpricks of pain raced over her scalp. So close to him, his scent wafted to her nostrils—a crisp mix of evergreens, rain, and a hint of peppermint. It was oddly enticing and masculine. “Since you think you’re so experienced and teasing, I’ll treat you like a courtesan. So you’ll suck me off. You’re mine, duchess, and that means I can do whatever I want with you. Never forget that.”

Her shrug only moved one shoulder. His possessiveness was frightening but a bit thrilling, if she were being honest. She eyed his thick shaft then transferred her gaze to his. “I don’t mind performing such an act on you, for it provides me with pleasure too.” Then she wrapped the fingers of one hand around his length, stroked him off a few times to discover how he enjoyed being touched.

“Take me into your mouth. Now.” When he forced her head on his member, she gagged and pulled back, being sure to scrape his shaft with her teeth as a lesson.

“Stop.” Imogen still held his arousal in her palm. She squeezed and hoped it made him feel uncomfortable. When he hissed a warning, she grinned. “I shall do this but you can’t force me. For it won’t be enjoyable for either of us, but you won’t be disappointed when I’m through.”

“Fine.” He relaxed, and his hold in her hair lightened. “You may begin.”

“Bastard.” Imogen experimentally licked the wide head, then when she found him pleasing enough, she took him into her mouth by increments. Watching him the whole time, she bobbed on his shaft, alternately swirling her tongue around him and sucking the head while fondling his stones with a gentle firmness. Could she hurt him violently like this if she’d wanted? Of course, but now was not the time, so she worked him into a frenzy.

“Damnation.” As best he could in a seated position, the duke thrust upward. Each time his tip hit the back of her throat, Imogen swallowed. When those muscles massaged his head, she hoped it provided exquisite sensations that would further toss him closer to the edge. “Not as good as a fuck, but it’s impressive,” he gasped out as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

Ignorning his words, she kept on, but it wasn't until she massaged the sensitive skin between his ball sack and his anus that he completely lost control.

“Ah shit!” The second after he pulled out of her mouth, he came violently, and he decorated her neck, upper chest, and breasts with warm strings of the milky ejaculation.

What a royal prig.

With a heaving chest, he stared down into her upturned face. “Congratulations, lady Averly, I’ve given you pearls to celebrate our wedding.”

“How honorable of you.” Thick sarcasm clung to the words.

He grunted. “This changes nothing except to deepen my contempt of you. As skilled as a damned whore.” Surprise reflected in his eyes as he stuffed himself back into his breeches and did up the buttons.

“A woman can enjoy and have talent in carnal arts without being a whore or a courtesan. There is only scandal in it if viewed by prudes.” With a snort of annoyance, Imogen returned to her bench. Strength leeched from her limbs, for it had been quite a way to pass the last half hour.

“Perhaps.” The duke watched her with speculation, as if she would suddenly conduct a different sort of trick. “Since you are the new Duchess of Averly, your first duty with the title is to plan and host my annual Midsummer Ball that will take place at the end of the month.” He tossed her his handkerchief—his only bid at being a gentleman. “It is usually a debauched affair, full of orgies, opiates, fucking, and liquor.”

“No.”

“No?” One of his burnished red eyebrows lifted in question.

“No.” She shook her head as she tried to clean up the best she could with the handkerchief. The sticky mess would no doubt stain the fabric of her dress. “I refuse to indulge in your lifestyle. Of course, I’ve heard the rumors surrounding you and what you stand for. I am not cut from the same cloth.” Wiping at the mess on her chest, she continued. “My father was underhanded and devious like you. I refuse to continue living under the same scandals.” Once she finished, she threw the soiled linen square at him then turned her face to the window. “I won’t have my name sullied alongside yours.”

And that wouldn’t change.

A long period of silence brewed between them before he spoke again.

“The villagers expect the ball. For them, it’s the social event of the summer. At the end, there is a traveler fair on the edge of my property. The business helps them, helps the villagers also sell their wares, while the ball keeps the members of the beau monde in the area as well as the gentry happy.”

She snorted. “Happy getting their rocks off?”

“There is that.”

Things would need to change. “I don’t mind playing your hostess because I adore pretty gowns and jewelry as well as dancing, but I will not be part of such wicked scandal as you suggest. You are married now; I know you have a mistress too. There might not be anything I can do about that, but I will absolutely not be part of your debauched past.”

His eyes flashed green fire. One of his hands clenched into a fist on his thigh. “Is that a threat?”

“You decide, but if you oppose me in this, you’ll soon find yourself regretting that decision. I will make every moment of our newly married life a living hell, that won’t cease even if you send me away.” She shrugged. “You’re the one who needs an heir; I care not, so now as in chess, the next move is yours. Choose wisely.”

Then she set out to ignore him for the remainder of the trip by curling onto her side on the bench with her back to him. Besides, the day had exhausted her, so it wasn’t a lie to claim tiredness. If this was to be her life, she would demand he sort his and return to some semblance of respectability… or else she would make certain her cousin killed him.