Page 21 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Twenty-One

“ W here is my wife?” Vincent demanded after his search in her chambers and most of the drawing rooms in the townhouse turned out unfruitful.

Poor Lincoln, who had been the first person Vincent’s eyes landed on the moment he stepped out of the last drawing room, responded quickly, “I am not certain, Your Grace, but the last time I saw her, she was in her chambers. I did catch the maids whispering about taking baked goods to her balcony, but I could be mistaken.”

Vincent studied him for a few seconds, then dismissed him with a nod. He had gone to Juliana’s chambers, but the lack of any sign of life in the room had caused him to exit the place that smelled heavily of her.

He marched right up to her chambers and let himself in, walking straight to the balcony, where he indeed found her sitting cross-legged, enjoying a glass of orange juice.

“I searched all over for you,” he pointed out, staring at her as though to gauge her reaction.

She nodded. “I needed some air. However, I stayed for the view,” she replied, her expression and voice neutral.

Vincent swept his eyes over to the view in question.

Blackmoor House was situated in the best part of London, standing tall enough to loom over most of the town, and her balcony offered the best view. It was the reason he’d chosen this room for her before they arrived.

“It is indeed an exquisite view,” he agreed. Then, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “However, you are more exquisite than the view.”

Her face turned pink almost instantly, which he took as proof that all was well with them. Yet, something about Hazel meeting Juliana did not sit right with him.

“I simply have one question, which I need you to answer,” she finally said after a short moment of tense silence.

Vincent nodded with a raised eyebrow, anticipating her question.

Juliana took a deep breath and rose to her feet, making sure to look him in the eyes.

“The lady from earlier, is she your past lover or a courtesan? I am asking because while I am aware that ours is a union not founded on love or a deep sense of loyalty, I do not take well to disrespect?—”

Vincent forced her to swallow the remainder of her words with a kiss on her lips, then pulled away from her.

“You should’ve simply awaited the answer to your question rather than jumping to outrageous conclusions.” He shook his head, and then, in a flash, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her room.

He sat on the bed, with her still in his arms, her tiny frame melting into his softly.

He felt the need to hold her like that at least every day, the need to protect her from whoever and whatever tried to harm her.

“Hazel is not my past lover, neither is she a courtesan.” He had to emphasize those facts first. “She also works for the Crown.”

At that, Juliana’s eyes lit up with admiration.

“The Crown employs women?” she asked, half surprised and half excited.

“Do not get any ideas. The Crown only employs women for small duties. Hazel, for instance, is a messenger,” he explained, absentmindedly drawing circles on her palm.

Juliana’s face fell, but the excitement remained in her big brown orbs.

“She works directly for the Crown and the Intelligence. The Crown hardly passes information through urchins and mail coaches—they send their missives through the messenger, who then goes directly to the recipient. It’s a very important but delicate job that only a few can do,” Vincent explained and caught her rolling her eyes just in time.

“And I doubt I am privileged enough to be among the select few who can do the job?” she asked, and he nodded. A frown creased her face instantly. “I shall have you know that my capabilities know no bounds.”

Vincent laughed. “You are right. However, there are some qualities you possess that might make it entirely difficult for you to be among the select few.”

“Pray tell what these qualities are.”

“First and foremost, you possess these.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on her eyes. “Beautiful eyes that many would fall victim to, just like I have.”

Juliana laughed, and the sound reverberated through him and warmed his insides.

“Then you have this nose.” He leaned in and kissed her nose. “It is unforgettable. Then you have these sweet lips.” He leaned in and kissed her mouth, letting out a faint moan as he pulled away. “So damned addicting. I would want to kiss you anytime you come to deliver a message, and I believe other men would too because, just like me, they have eyes, and they would want you to themselves.”

Just the thought itself was enough to make Vincent’s heart beat in an uncomfortable manner, which didn’t make an iota of sense to him.

“You simply mean I am too beautiful to work as a messenger?”

Vincent nodded.

“But Hazel seems to be doing a good job despite looking like that.”

“You think she’s beautiful?” Vincent asked.

“Do you not?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Juliana rolled her eyes as though she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press the issue, much to his relief.

Vincent didn’t know how, but the moment she opened her mouth to speak, he knew what was coming next.

“You’re under the belief that working for the Crown is a dangerous ordeal. I’m eager to know how—or better yet, why you decided to do it, regardless.”

Juliana knew she was walking on thin ice, and the only thing she could do was cross her fingers and hope to get even a ghost of a response, like he’d done when they’d gone horseback riding in Blackmoor.

She’d seen a glimpse of a man who wasn’t a spy for the Crown or a highly respected duke. She had seen a boy who was betrayed, and she wanted to see more, or at least know more about him.

“I wagered you would ask that. Ever so curious.” Vincent chuckled deeply, tapping his index finger on her forehead—a playful gesture that shocked her.

She smiled.

“My father was not just a duke; he was also a trusted ally of the Crown,” he began, and Juliana’s eyes widened. “He was untouchable. After my mother a few days after she birthed me, he decided he no longer had a weakness, so he pursued duty to the point of ruthlessness.”

It was not lost on Juliana the subtle way he tightened his grip on her. Her heart clenched and unclenched, leaving her stomach in a difficult knot. There he was, the boy who was betrayed.

“He was the only one I had, so it was no surprise that I admired him. He was strong and powerful, and he had a secret job that made him all the more admirable. I wanted to grow up to be just like him.”

Juliana sensed the but before he even said it.

“In the quest for duty and power, when one does not have something that grounds them, they lose their way. My father lost his way.”

At that, Juliana wrapped her arms around his shoulders, rubbing them smoothly.

“When I was nine-and-ten, my father uncovered a plot against the Crown involving a close family friend, a man who had been like a second father to me, caring for me while my father was away on his duties, whether ducal or not.”

Juliana could already smell the betrayal from a mile away, but she said nothing. She simply listened to him, because she had an inkling that no one had ever been willing to listen to him, and so he became closed off, bottling everything up.

“The lord was charged with treason—dealing arms and selling intelligence to France.”

Juliana gasped softly, and Vincent nodded, a faraway look in his blue eyes.

“When my father found the ‘evidence,’ he’d wasted no time in turning him in without giving him a chance to explain himself despite his many pleas. Of course, to others, what my father did was valiant and customary for our line of work, so the lord was executed a day later.”

Juliana hadn’t realized tears had pooled in her eyes until she blinked and they slid down her face.

“However, years later, due to my curiosity, I also found evidence that turned my life upside down.”

As though on cue, Juliana sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself for his next words.

“Evidence showed that the lord was guilty of a much lesser crime, but my father had been in competition with another duke who was just as good as him, and they were both seeking power and recognition from the Crown, so my father used the opportunity as a setting stone to his greatness by planting false evidence to implicate his friend.”

Juliana could not believe her ears. She could only imagine how angry, defeated, defenseless, and betrayed he must’ve been. He had no siblings, so the only other person who had looked after him lost his life because of a power struggle that had nothing to do with him.

“My father gained the Crown’s favor and served until his death, but by then I had sworn off everything but Blackmoor. He was no longer the hero I used to look up to, and I could hardly believe that this secret service, which I had longed for, could taint one’s soul to such an extent.”

More tears streamed down Juliana’s face.

“However.” Vincent finally smiled, albeit slightly. “When I was seven-and-twenty, shortly after my father’s death, the Intelligence reached out to me, proposing I pick up where my father left off. I initially refused because I swore I wouldn’t be like him, but I also felt a sense of duty. I wanted to bring honor to my family’s legacy—I did not want it to end with my father’s betrayal. So I accepted the offer, and here I am, years later.”

Juliana smiled, dropping her arms from his shoulders to wipe away her tears. “And here you are years later, better than he ever was.”

“I’ve told you of the bad things I’ve done, Juliana,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck.

Juliana giggled despite the tension.

“Have you ever convicted an innocent man and driven him to his death?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Vincent shook his head.

“I want to believe you’ve only done bad things to those who deserved them.”

He nodded again.

“That makes you a better man than your father. I believe ambition is important for a man, but knowing when to stop is even more important.”

Vincent stared at her, as though in awe. “You are wise, wife.”

“And so are you, husband. I can only imagine how difficult it must’ve been for you to open up to me,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “Thank you for trusting me enough to let me in.” She looked deeply into his eyes.

Beneath her palm, she felt his heart rate quicken, but she was not done. She hadn’t the slightest idea of what she was doing, but she knew in her heart that it was what she wanted to do.

“I—I want to pleasure you. Teach me how.”

Those eight simple words undid Vincent in a manner he never knew was possible.

He’d never thought those simple words were enough to make his knees tremble with excitement, as though he was a young lad, and yet they did, and all because of the woman on his lap.

His woman.

“Perhaps you don’t want me to?” she had the nerve to ask after nearly making his heart stop.

Then, he realized she’d asked because he hadn’t said anything to her, and it must’ve taken a lot of courage for her to ask that of him.

“I’d be delighted to.”

He took her hand in his large one, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly placed her hand on his chest and guided it down.

“I’ve always wanted to touch it. It’s massive!” she confessed innocently, which elicited a loud laugh from him.

“I’m all yours to touch, my sweet. Touch me however and whenever you feel up to it,” he told her, and she smiled.

With his assistance, she pulled his breeches down his thighs, and his member sprang out toward her as though it had a mind of its own, as though it knew she was the reason for it thickening.

Without warning. Juliana grabbed it, and just the sight of it in her hands aroused him so much that he nearly spilled his seed right there.

Lord!

Could he survive this at all? Had he bitten more than he could chew with her?

But she looked determined, so he would see to it, no matter how many times he spilled like a young lad. Any man in his situation would be the same.

“Stroke it,” he ordered, guiding her with his hand.

After a few pumps, he withdrew his hand, letting her stroke him by herself.

“Am I doing this right?” She raised her big brown orbs to his, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Not because she’d gripped him hard but because she looked so sensual in the moment.

“It’s too tight, love,” he said.

She loosened her grip a little, pumping him like he’d taught her.

“Now, put it in your mouth,” he instructed, stifling the urge to laugh at the face she made.

Instead of backing away, she nodded once and slid off his lap, kneeling before him.

Goodness gracious!

Slowly, she took him in her hand again, pumped him a few times, and then brought him to her mouth. After wetting her lips, she wrapped them around the crown, her tongue unintentionally flicking against the hole.

His sharp intake of breath and his low groan must’ve told her she was doing the right thing, because she repeated the movement a few times, unraveling him in ways he had never thought possible.

His minx

His wife

His and no one else’s.

He relished the feel of her soft, warm lips on him, craved it as though it was his only sustenance. She moved her head up and down his hard length, and his fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her. His hips bucked at the delicious assault, and he fought down his release to the best of his ability, but he’d always known, right from the moment their eyes met, that he was powerless against her.

He felt his cock swell, and with a loud groan, he spilled into her mouth.