Page 6 of The Cursed Duke (Wayward Dukes' Alliance #19)

“You are going to bed me.” It wasn’t a question, and as he paused at a set of double doors at the end of the corridor on the third level of the townhouse, she squirmed on his shoulder.

“Yes.” Then he shoved open a door with his foot. “Isn’t that what is expected of a man who has recently acquired a wife?”

“By carrying me away from the wedding breakfast in front of everyone?”

He grunted but didn’t answer.

“I… I assumed you only said that, did that, out of theatrical flair.” The kisses and the rushed coupling they’d already shared in the rear garden at the engagement rout had been delicious enough, but allowing him to continue to bed her? As if this marriage was real? She blew out a breath. That wasn’t what she’d wanted for her life.

Was it?

“I never say anything I don’t mean, so yes, Your Grace, I mean to bed you, and this will be the first of many.”

“Truthfully, this would be the second time…” she said without thinking.

“So it is.” Then he delivered a slap to her arse. As the crisp sound echoed in the space, fear and a rush of sudden need stabbed through her. There was no denying that the duke was intimidating and powerful in a way that sent curls of longing deep into her belly, but surely he was making jest of her by marrying her, of saying he wanted to do such naughty things to her. No man in his right mind would willingly choose a woman like her to spend the rest of his existence with.

Would they?

Seconds later, they were faced with a pretty, young maid as well as what she assumed was a valet aged perhaps mid to late thirties.

“Your Graces.” The valet blinked at them with a stoic face. Did the duke bring women here often? “Steppingford, will you require help changing clothes for the day?”

“No.”

The maid curtsied. “I have unpacked Her Grace’s belongings in the duchess suite if you would like me to take her there?”

“I would not.” There was a decided growl in his voice. “Both of you, out. Now, and do not disturb us unless the house is on fire.”

The pair looked at her with matching expressions of curiosity and pity, but the valet and maid scuttled from the room. When the door snicked closed, that sound echoed loudly in the sudden silence that filled the space.

“That was rude,” Hannah couldn’t help but point out from her precarious perch while her arse cheek still tingled from his swat.

“I never claimed I was a nice man.” A heartbeat later, he crossed the room then threw her on the large four poster bed where she landed on a surprisingly soft yet firm tick mattress that must have been stuffed with the fluffiest down feathers. Her skirting rucked up and put her legs on display with their embroidered ivory stockings.

For a moment, her husband’s gaze lingered on her lower limbs and as he transferred it to her face, the heat in his dark eyes was unmistakable. “Are you afraid of me, Hannah?” he asked as he removed his tailcoat.

A shiver moved down her spine, for he had a way of saying her name that made her want to do anything he asked. Or perhaps it was that wide shock of silver in his hair. Or the sensual lips… Then she stopped herself from woolgathering and gave him a shallow nod. “A bit.” There was no use in lying.

He toed out of his shoes, kicked them away. They landed with dull thuds on the thick Aubusson carpet in various shades of navy, gray, and cream. “Are you frightened of sex?”

The vulgar terminology gave her pause, yet it was also exciting. “I don’t know.” She’d heard enough whispers from her friends who’d been married or ruined over the years to realize the act was a singular experience in which a woman was never the same. Of course, she had already been ruined, but it had gone by too fast for her to really enjoy it or even understand what was happening. As she struggled into a sitting position, she frowned. “Will it be different than what we already did?

“Yes. There are many different positions as well as many different reasons why people indulge in it.” His waistcoat was the next article of clothing to land on the floor, quickly followed by his cuffs, collar, and cravat. When he stood in his lawn shirt, satin evening breeches, and hosiery, another tremble tumbled down her spine.

There was something far too distracting and captivating about watching a handsome, powerful man shed his clothing. Hannah stared. Her mouth went dry, which was odd, for that never happened to her. “What is your reason today?”

He shrugged. “Lust. Being randy. Wanting to bed my wife. Or merely because I’m a duke. Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” Something about him frightened her and she couldn’t put a finger on it, so she tried to scuttle away off the bed.

Of course, he caught her and tossed her back on that piece of furniture. His grin was on this side of grim, yet the wicked promise in his eyes put heat in her cheeks and flutters in her belly. “I’ll claim your body regardless of whether you give consent, but it will go easier and prove more enjoyable if you’re agreeable.”

Which was much like how she’d ended up in scandal with him the last time. “Why not lie and say we did the deed? Wasn’t once enough?” She didn’t know how many times married couples, well… coupled, but this seemed extreme.

“Ha.” His lips twitched but he didn’t outright grin in amusement. “Hardly. You set this in motion and now we are here. Shouldn’t we see it through to its inevitable conclusion?”

Which was what? Pleasure, children, love?

Before she could voice the thought, he was on the bed with her and she was in his arms, and his kisses once again caught her by surprise. The duke was intense, and this was no exception, and soon enough, she was lost on a sea of sensation that seemed far too large for her to try and contain.

She gasped, mostly to draw air into her lungs; he was much like a summer thunderstorm that came on suddenly. “Your Grace, I—”

“Giles,” he said against the skin at the crook of her shoulder.

“What?” The ability to think was rapidly leaving her.

“Giles. That is my name. Utilize it or my title, if you must.” As he spoke, he yanked down the bodice of her gown, bringing the underclothing with it with such strength she feared that he might tear the fabric.

Once her breasts were exposed to his view, he wasted no time taking one mound in his hand to worry the nipple with a thumb and forefinger while latching onto her other hardened nipple with his lips, teasing it with his tongue.

Wild sensation streaked through her body and pleasure circled through her lower belly. She was well and truly caught in his trap, and though fear tinged everything, she couldn’t help a moan of surprise or perhaps encouragement, for she wanted to feel even more.

“Giles…” What the deuce had she wanted to say? She couldn’t think, not when he was doing such wonderfully wicked things to her, but not content to just lie there, Hannah plucked at the fine lawn of his shirt, tugging the tails from the waist of his evening breeches. “Might I touch you?”

He grunted. “You don’t need my permission to do what you will.” Then he continued his quest to apparently separate her from reality.

Though she was hesitant, Hannah put her hands beneath his shirt and skimmed her palms up his chest. The mat of thick, coarse hair rasped against her skin and somehow enhanced the need throbbing through her veins. When one of her fingertips glanced over a flat disc his nipple went immediately erect, and he hissed out a breath. Slightly emboldened, she lifted her head to press her lips to the hollow of his throat.

Heavens, he smells so good!

“You’re learning.” The low rumble of his voice tickled through her chest. “That is only to the good.” And again, he turned his attention to her breasts, and she thought that stimulation would surely send her over that mysterious edge she’d fallen over in the rear garden that night.

Her heartbeat was far too fast. Heat flooded her body, and just as she acclimated to the new things he made her feel, her new husband slipped a hand between her thighs. “Oh!” Remembering that from the other day, apprehension twisted around her spine, and she tried to clamp her thighs together. Those feelings were sheer madness. Could she survive that again?

“None of that, Hannah. I want you, and that means I will have all of you.” When she relaxed, he put a knee between her legs and splayed her open while his brown gaze bored in hers. “I may be harsh at times, but I would never hurt a woman, and one of my talents is to send them flying.”

“I don’t know if I can survive that again.” Additionally, she still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t continually making jest of her. “You can’t possibly feel desire for a woman who has a form as I do.”

“Stop keeping yourself in a box that everyone around you has forced you into. There is nothing wrong with you, and I quite like your lush body.” His eyes were intense as he held her gaze with his fingers strumming over her sensitive folds. “In fact, I intend to thoroughly explore every centimeter, claim it all, and in the process, you will find your confidence. That will only help and enhance our couplings.”

Before she could form a reply through the passionate haze in her brain, the duke rubbed his fingertips over the swelling button at her center, both foreign and familiar sensations washed over her, around her, through her. “Oh, oh goodness.” She squirmed from his attentions, but he didn’t let up. Trembles and tingles collected through her body; she clung to his shoulders, moved her hips in time to his ministrations and tried to press herself closer to him.

When a release caught her up in its vortex, she let out an involuntary scream as her core quivered and pleasure raced through her. Both awed and horrified that her body could achieve such a thing again days after he’d done the same to her, a certain shivering, enhanced need flowed through her for something she didn’t quite understand but wanted to learn more about from him.

“Damn, but you look as if you’ve seen heaven,” the duke whispered as he removed himself from the bed.

“Perhaps I did for a second.” While her heartbeat skipped out of control, she frowned. “Are we finished?” Somehow, she assumed there would be… more, as there had been the other night.

“We are not.” He put down his front falls, and when his impressive, erect length tumbled out of his breeches, he took himself in hand, pumping his shaft as she watched, or perhaps because she watched. A man’s equipage was so mysterious. Would she ever have the courage to handle it herself? Did she want to?

How interesting.

The duke grabbed her ankles, and when he tugged her to the edge of the bed, she squealed and was plunged into another pool of apprehension. With a half grin, he balanced her hips there and shoved her legs into the air, spreading them wide as he did. “I promise my showing this time will be better than the last.”

“What was wrong with… ah!” She didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence, for with a powerful thrust, he penetrated her body, and didn’t stop until his hard, hot, thick length filled her passage. “Merciful heavens. I don’t remember it being like this the last time.”

“Different position,” he said around what sounded like a growl. Then he began to move within her, and Hannah completely lost the ability to think let alone remember her own name.

Over and over and over again he slammed into her, sinking his shaft deep, oh impossibly deep. His pushes were quick and hard, as if he had no idea how to be gentle or else he didn’t care, and then his movements grew frantic, impulsive, yet that friction, that plunging sensation made her feel as if she were being hurtled into the great unknown.

“Giles… Oh, God…”

Another grunt. “Not a god, but only just at the level of a duke.” He leaned over her while holding one of her legs and with the other hand, he once more found that slippery button at her center and bedeviled it.

That was when she fractured, or more accurately, her body began to break. It was almost as if she were coming apart at the seams as unbelievable pleasure shot through her body and burned through her blood. It was surprising how much different this time was from the first.

“Giles!” And she was lost on a sea of sensation except she was thrust into a world that was absent of light and sound as her body shook and her passage rocked with contractions.

With a muffled shout of his own, the duke followed her into that sacred space on the heels of one last powerful stroke. He ground his pelvis into hers and warmth filled her core. Seconds later, he pulled away, leaving her oddly bereft of his presence.

“Now you are very much my wife. Congratulations, Lady Steppingford.” If there was slight mocking in his tone, she couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t wanted this; neither had she. As he tucked his flaccid shaft back into his breeches and did up the buttons, Hannah lay completely collapsed on the bed, her heartbeat and thoughts racing.

“I never knew it would be like… this,” she finally managed to pant out. Residual tremors chased themselves up and down her spine.

His grin both annoyed and stimulated her. “I’ll wager there are many things you don’t know, least of all about me.” Then he frowned. Those mercurial moods of his would prove exhausting. “You are quite thoroughly wed to not the best of men, but I won’t apologize for that.”

“Well, I wasn’t disappointed, so there’s that.” She blew out a breath. “And I am not exactly duchess material, so at least we both have company in our misery.”

“Such a tart mouth you have.” And remarkably, his grin had returned. He shoved the fingers of one hand through his hair, leaving it in furrowed rows with the silver much on display. “Shall I ring for tea so we can have a bit of a chat?”

“I would like that. Thank you.” How very bizarre. Whatever she thought her wedding day would be like, it certainly wasn’t this. And neither was the groom the hero of her ideals.