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Page 4 of Tantalizing the Duke

She pouted. “Not in a way that you imagine. But there is something you could do for me.”

It was an open invitation for more questions, but he remembered those early parties instead. How carefree and in love with scandal she had seemed, and how serious he had taken his duty to protect her. There was the one occasion that had ended with her at his town house, draped in one of his robes, clothes mislaid and champagne-fogged memories of a truly wicked night leading to fits of her laughter at his expense. She never apologized for things that would bring others shame, instead she had teased him for being so fraternal.

He never learned if he’d experienced those carnal delights with her that night, or someone else. He only knew he longed to sample her wares, but scolded himself each time he considered acting on those imaginings.

Perhaps that was the problem, that he’d felt more like an older brother, at first. It wasn’t the case any longer, but it had been once. Not that it ever stopped her from treating him in the reckless manner she always had.

“Not going to ask me what I want?” Milly feigned exasperation, rising to claim the drink he’d promised with the kind of fluid elegance that was both her charm and his curse. “I’m afraid you’ll be a bit put out this time.”

He remained silent, watching as she poured two glasses of port. One for her, the other presumably for him, but she drank it too, while he relived the cyprian parties they’d both attended over the years.

He recalled the most brazen event—her standing atop a billiard table, hair loose and nothing but a sheer bit of muslin adorning her, offering champagne from her shoe. No one else would have dared such a thing, but there she was, a delightful goddess presiding over a room of her admirers, until he put an abrupt end to the spectacle by sweeping her away like the most severe of guardians. And yes, there was a kind of protectiveness, perhaps more than a kind. Even then, he could not bear the thought of others feasting on her unrepentant beauty.

“Stop brooding, Dainsfield,” she commanded. “This should cheer you. You see, I’ve decided I must marry.”

Dainsfield met her declaration with skepticism, though a bolt of interest found its way to a less cautious part of him. “How delightfully unlike you.”

“I knew you would be pleased,” she teased, another bubble of laughter escaping. “You always wanted me to be under some man’s rule, didn’t you? Never your own, though. This isn’t my choice, though. My father has signed a contract.”

She explained the situation. Dainsfield grimaced. He didn’t know Crampmoore well, but he knew enough to understand Milly would never be happy married to the man.

“Are you going to offer to find me a husband again?” she asked.

Once, when she was twenty, he’d made the mistake of such an offer, at a particularly lascivious event, when she’d barely been wearing a thread. At least a dozen suitors—if such rogues could be called that—were clamoring for her attention that evening. He meant to protect her from herself and said as much.

She’d refused him in her typical irreverent manner. “What if I don’t want to be limited to sleeping with only one man? Or worse, what if I could never again sleep with two or three at once?” she’d asked, coquettish and full of mirth.

It was the first time she’d ever rendered him utterly speechless, a skill she honed with precision. Remembering it now, with her before him in a simple gown, the mounds of her bosom rising and falling with each breath, made him rather speechless again, though differently. Her marriage could indeed limit her to just one man, unless it was arranged with more generous terms. She likely required an entire tome full of generous terms. His cock stirred in appreciation of the possibilities.

“What are you thinking, Your Grace?” she pried, eyes keen, though not as keen as his awareness of her. “Shall I guess? You are having second thoughts.”

“If that is truly what you want,” he said, as he had the last time, though without the conviction. He had a feeling she’d escape her wedding no matter who waited at the altar.

She was on her feet before he knew it, trapping him against his own desk. “Remember, you already offered,” she implored, pressing herself close and capturing his gaze with a look of both daring and entreaty.

And yes, there was her cleavage, something any other woman would use to entice him, but that wasn’t Milly. It wasn’t even necessary with him, and with her slender waist and hips, the enticement was inevitable. A gunnysack couldn’t hide the beauty of her form.

“Why are you resorting to tactics?” he challenged, breath uneven.

“Because I am determined, dear Dainsfield,” she said with a certainty that only an intelligent woman could wield, straightening to regard him seriously. She sighed. “I am desperate.”

He took a moment to collect himself, touching a finger to her nose with practiced indifference. “You needn’t resort to tactics.”

She blinked, drawing back, surprise and delight dancing upon her features. “Then you will help?”

He laughed softly. “You hardly left me a choice. If I can survive the scandal you will create, it may even be diverting.”

“Wonderful!” she declared, executing an impromptu pirouette. She kissed him on the cheek, a fleeting heat that seared the line of propriety with careless grace. She scurried toward the door. “You are simply wonderful.”

“Milly.”

She paused at the door, eyes bright with mischief. He knew better than to let it affect him, but it did.

“Call on me tomorrow morning,” he instructed. “We will talk, and you can tell me what has truly made you want such a drastic change.”

“I shall be there bright and early,” she promised, and in a flurry of silk and impudence, she was gone.

Dainsfield found himself alone, Milly’s perfume lingering like the end of an evening with his mistress. Only his cock was nowhere near content.

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