Page 62 of The Duke is Wicked
As he tugged her into the dark corner, shadows spilled over them. With a guttural growl, he crowded her into the bookcase, crushing his chest to hers. “No matter. I’m still the superior billiards player. Any day of the week.” His mouth falling to her bodice, he nipped her through her gown. “Although you are a quick hand at archery, I cannot deny. Your skill with a bow must be why I love you so frantically. You’ve made use of the talent to confidently handle things very near and dear to my person on occasion.”
Skill with a bow indeed.“You must be mad, Tremont. I’m better at all of those things,” she whispered and pulled his lips to hers.
However, she was willing to wager with her wicked duke.
On everything but her heart.
That contest, they’d both won.
Epilogue
A Duke’s Oxfordshire Castle
One year later
Delaney strolled across the lawn, lifting her face to the sun and breathing deeply of the scent of wisteria and foxglove rolling in from the garden. Their daughter, Alexandra, was finally sleeping, and Kitty and Victoria had offered to watch her for the afternoon, allowing a duchess to go in search of her duke. Perhaps drag him to the orangery for a little of what Sebastian called “fruit and passion.”
He comprehended what the aroma of citrus did to her, and he regularly used this weakness to his advantage.
She heard the raucous shouts before she climbed the rise and saw them, a smile twisting her lips. Mercy, they were boys in men’s clothing. And she loved each one of them without hesitation. Case lay sprawled on his back in the grass, his legs having been taken from beneath him. Simon, standing nearly as tall and broad as the rest of them now, loomed over her brother with a look of stunning triumph, his fist raised to the sky. Finn, Humphrey and Julian were just behind him, laughing so hard their words were coming out in choked gasps as they elbowed each other with none-too-gentle shoves, clearly ready to knock someone else off their feet.
And Sebastian…
Oh, her heart swelled, her hands aching to touch. Her darling duke was resting against a towering elm, long legs stretched before him, head tipped against the trunk, fast asleep.
Alexandra woke often during the night.Everynight. Sebastian, a surprisingly engaged father, liked to accompany his wife to the nursery. They’d not employed a wetnurse. Delaney wanted to do as much as she could herself, and her husband glowed each time he watched his daughter’s perfect rosebud of a mouth latch onto her nipple. It was during the peaceful ease of these night feedings, when contentment and joy were such fierce sensations, she struggled to hold back tears.
She and Sebastian were in love with each other and their daughter, in love with life. Preferring to reside in their castle, they infrequently traveled to London for ducal business. They had set the town on its ear with their refusal to live in separate dwellings, or even separate bedrooms as it was rumored, a rare, very quizzical, oft-studied love match.
Their venture to have a marriage on their terms was turning out to be a success.
Sebastian was working with Piper and Victoria and had gained more control over his gift. Or his curse, as he called it. They hadn’t had to use the water engine again, a minimal blaze in the green sitting room last month during a spontaneous lovemaking session while the baby napped, the only incident worth discussing. Regarding her dilemma, Delaney’s extortionist hadn’t visited since the time she’d stepped into Delaney’s path and caused her to be thrown from her mount. She hadn’t received another note nor seen the girl again, not since—
Delaney gasped and stumbled, coming to a halt steps from the men, who’d begun to argue and tussle, not yet noticing her.
The girl stood by the tree Sebastian slumbered beneath, close enough for her gown, should she actually have been present, to brush his boot. She looked like an apparition, a shimmering, dilute gray Delaney could peer directly through. Tall, slender, beautiful, her eyes wide and taking full command of her finely-boned face. A streak of soot marred her cheek and chin. Wherever she’d come from, it had been a battle to get here.
Goosebumps peppered Delaney’s skin. If she got close enough, she suspected she’d be able to pass her hand through the girl’s likeness.
Taking a step forward, Delaney cataloged every detail, because Julian would want to know later. She’d learned this lesson well. Antiquated attire, turn of the century possibly. High-waisted gown with gathers beneath her breasts and at her neck. Poor quality, the hem ragged, the bodice edge frayed. The only flash of color, her eyes, which blazed as deep an indigo as Finn’s in the sunlight. And her hair, a fierce mix of auburn and ginger.
Without warning, the girl dropped to her knee and reached for Sebastian’s hand. Delaney screamed and broke into a run. Her shout alerted Julian and Finn, who turned in shock, watching the situation unfold. Before any of them could reach her, the girl snaked her hand into the duke’s coat pocket and eased the Soul Catcher free with an adept move only Simon would’ve been able to replicate.
Rising to her feet, she held out her arm, the gem gleaming on her outstretched hand. Sebastian hadn’t awakened, such was his exhaustion. He was safe.Theywere safe. She didn’t pose a threat. Somehow, Delaney knew this, even as desperation rippled from the girl in waves, an unrelenting emotional tide.
Simon pushed past Delaney and got close enough to the girl to touch, should he have been able to do so. “Whoareyou? Why can’t you talk to me like the others? Haunts filling my ears day and night with their complaints? When you’re the only one I’vewantedto talk to. Don’t you know that?”
The girl shook her head and lurched back, shimmering, her image fading. But her gaze never strayed from Simon. Her dark blue eyes misted with tears, her fingers closing about the Soul Catcher and bringing it to a place just above her heart.
“No,” Simon whispered, his voice hoarse, close to breaking from the sound of it. “Don’t go. Not before you’ve told me how to find you.”
I’m sorry, the girl mouthed, and with a watery flutter, a vibration softer than the flicker of a butterfly’s wings, she was gone.
Simon dropped to his knees, braced his hands on the ground and hung his head, sunbeams glinting off his flaxen hair and the elegant curve of his neck. A tortured gasp left his lips, a sound like an animal in pain.
Finn was there instantly, crouching beside him. He was closer to Simon than a brother, and as protective as Julian, much to the young man’s dismay. They made a stunning portrait, two broad-bodied men kneeling in the sunlight. “The League will find her, Si. Delaney can search every book on the occult going back for centuries. I’ll go through my letters, contact our associates in other countries. There must be a clue somewhere. She can travel through time, obviously, a gift we’ve never explored. Sheisn’tone of your haunts, don’t you see? We’ll find the answer to this puzzle. My darling Victoria likes nothing better than a puzzle.”
Simon shook his head, distraught. “She’s gone. She got what she wanted. The Soul Catcher.”Not me, Delaney guessed he wanted to say. He swallowed, throat clicking. “We don’t even know her name.”