Page 45 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

Her heart pounding, she pressed her eye to one of the openings.

What she saw made her gasp involuntarily.

A woman with auburn hair was astride a man, moving with enthusiastic abandon.

Her head was thrown back in apparent ecstasy, her full breasts bouncing as she rode him with obvious pleasure.

The man beneath her had his hands on her hips, guiding her movements, but it was clear that she was in control, taking her pleasure as much as giving it.

Leila shuddered involuntarily, though she couldn’t determine whether it was from shock, disgust, or something else entirely.

Despite her discomfort, she couldn’t deny her body’s response to the explicit scene before her.

Her skin heated, and she felt an unwelcome dampness between her thighs.

Mortified by her reaction, she grabbed Gideon by the arm, her fingers squeezing his sleeve as if anchoring herself.

He looked down at her grip and smiled. “She seems enthusiastic to me. What about you?”

“I—I don’t know,” Leila stammered, completely flustered by both what she’d witnessed and her own physical response.

The woman had certainly appeared to be enjoying herself, but the entire situation still felt wrong somehow.

“Perhaps. But I wouldn’t want to be watched doing…

that.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t understand how women feel safe enough in other men’s arms to relax and make it enjoyable for others to watch. ”

“Some men enjoy watching women be uncomfortable. They find pleasure in others’ distress.”

I know, she thought but didn’t voice it. Instead, she shared her next thought. “That’s reprehensible.”

“Well, unfortunately, many men are quite reprehensible.” His voice carried a bitter note. “However, if Grace is to be believed, only the women and men who enjoy being watched are placed in these rooms.”

“ If she can be believed,” Leila replied skeptically.

She still couldn’t convince herself that every activity in this place was absolutely consensual, though she had to admit that the particular woman she’d observed seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

“But I have to concede that even if what she says is only partly true… it’s still better than what my life has been. ”

He was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was careful and measured. “If you could choose to leave the Cardinal and work at a place like this, would you?”

The question caught her off guard, and she found herself contemplating it seriously.

The sounds from the next room continued, a steady moaning that almost blurred into the background.

If she were just a harlot, at least she wouldn’t have to kill, she thought.

“Only as a stepping stone to eventually escaping,” she said finally.

“I really hope these women truly find pleasure in this intimate act with a number of men, because I…” She trailed off, suddenly shy.

Taking a deep breath, she finished her thought, “I can’t imagine enjoying it with just anyone. ”

“You enjoyed it with me,” he said softly.

The simple statement sent heat flooding through her body. He was right, of course. With him, lovemaking had been something entirely different—not just physical pleasure, but connection, trust, and tenderness.

“You’re not just anyone.”

The silence stretched on, filled only by the increasingly passionate sounds from the next room. When Gideon spoke again, his voice was huskier than usual.

“If you could escape the Cardinal and stay with me… under the condition that you could only make love to me for the rest of your life… would you do that?”

She turned to look at him in the darkness, shock and confusion warring on her face. What is he saying? What is he offering?

“Like a mistress?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly. “Something like that.”

A mistress. The word tasted bitter in her mouth. She would be trading one form of captivity for another, albeit a more pleasant one. The thought deflated her, even as part of her wanted to say yes immediately.

She let out a weary sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. “And that’s the only way I am escaping the Cardinal?”

He cleared his throat, and she caught something in his posture that might have been regret. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Then yes.”

“What if you escaped the Cardinal with no conditions and no obligations…” His voice grew more intense, more urgent. “You are free to go wherever you like and do whatever you please. And then I offer you the chance to stay with me. Would you agree?”

She studied his face in the dim light, searching for clues to his meaning. His expression was carefully neutral and impassive, but something—she couldn’t identify what—seeped into his eyes. Emotion? Longing? Hope?

What was he thinking? Did he want to keep her as his mistress? And then what? Would he marry another woman to beget heirs, leaving her forever on the sidelines? A plaything?

The thought made her stomach clench with what felt suspiciously like jealousy. I will not be anyone’s plaything anymore. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.

She relaxed her shoulders, forcing casualness into her posture, and made what she knew could either be the perfect jest or the most horrifying suggestion of his life. “Only if you offer to marry me.”

He blinked in surprise, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t stagger back, flinch, or laugh at the absurdity of the idea. Though she knew he was not a man prone to showing his emotions easily, she feared she might have horrified him beyond measure.

She was an assassin and a harlot by most people’s standards. He was a duke.

She was Muslim. He was… whatever he needed to be to maintain his title and standing.

By English law, he couldn’t marry her even if he wanted to. Their union would not be considered legitimate.

So she could dream of him asking her to marry him all she wanted, could imagine a life where they were equals, where she was more than just a convenient body in his bed. Even if he had no personal reservations about her background and past, England surely did.

She straightened her spine, donned the cloak Grace had provided, and faced him once more with as much dignity as she could muster. “Ready?”

* * *

They made their way back to Grace’s office, with Gideon lost in deep thought. In the past week, he had questioned his sanity more times than he could count.

One thing was obvious: he was in love with Leila, whether he wanted to be or not. Now she had thrown him a challenge, daring him to propose.

There was nothing keeping him in England except for broken memories. It wasn’t his life he was worried about.

He could make her happy without marrying her. He could set her free, and then it would be her choice what to do with that freedom.

Leila opened the secret door and walked into Grace’s chamber, with Gideon following closely behind.

“I was expecting you to show up,” Ford Gunning said, emerging from the shadows like some kind of devil. Leila stepped back, almost treading on Gideon’s toes.

Gideon grabbed her by the arm and held her close. “I was under the impression you were willing to help. Was I wrong?” he asked.

“No, you weren’t,” Gunning replied with a slight nod. “What do you need?”

“That was easy,” Gideon said. “I just need you to send a few notes. I don’t want to involve you more than I already have.

Your wife was kind enough to procure some clothes for us, but now I need a few more things, and I have friends who can arrange that.

As a thief-taker, I assume you have an underground network of discreet messenger boys to deliver the notes? ”

“Of course. Who do you need the notes sent to?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I need some documents collected from my house, and I need a man I can trust to do that…” He paused, sifting through the names of people he knew and eliminating those he didn’t trust. Only one name remained in his mind.

“An old friend from my time serving the Crown,” he said.

What about the second note?

Gideon considered the list of The Shadows he could involve. Who among them was the most innocent and trustworthy?

He then turned to Gunning. “Do you know St. John?”

“Oh, I know him.” The thief-taker smirked. “Write your message, and I’ll make sure it gets delivered.”