Page 9 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Nine

“ D o we have any news about Norfield?” Vincent asked an approaching Somerton, who tilted his head slightly as though he’d noticed something unusual about him.

“Well…” Somerton began.

But Vincent was already nodding his head.

He needed something—anything—to replace the memory of Lady Juliana and the anger coursing through his body.

It was as though his body had a damned mind of its own whenever she was near, and he did not appreciate it one bit.

On the dance floor, when he had spoken to her, she had bit out every response, her tone fiery, and he’d wanted to kiss her without a care for decorum.

He couldn’t afford that.

“Are you listening?” Somerton asked, raising a fine eyebrow in slight concern.

Vincent nodded.

“Like I said, I didn’t find Norfield around the premises, but while I searched, I thought of places he would most likely go to when he does arrive. I found a room in the east wing that seems to be a study, given the view from outside the window. A single footman stands guard at the door, but he doesn’t seem very…agile.”

“So he might be an easy target for a man like Norfield.”

Somerton nodded.

Vincent exhaled, feeling like himself again.

This was how he was. His work always made his blood pump quicker and his heart beat faster. The simple idea of wrapping up a job, seeing the end of it in plain sight, and the itch to carry it out—all of it was what kept him going.

Not the thought of his lips on those of a certain brown-eyed lady.

No, she didn’t give him the same thrill that spying for the Crown did; she never could.

“It is decided, then,” he said after a beat.

“What is?” Somerton asked, his interest piqued.

“I shall take the footman’s place. I’d like to see Norfield try to take me down,” Vincent responded.

He snatched a glass of champagne from a passing tray and downed the golden liquid in one swift motion, before setting the flute on the table beside him, his mind already made.

He was skilled in combat, far greater than Norfield could ever dream of. His mission would be over before Norfield could say a word, and he would make sure of it.

Afterward, he would return to Blackmoor for his well-deserved rest, free from all tempting thoughts of Lady Juliana, and in a few weeks, he would forget he had ever desired her—for she would be married to another man.

That thought made a deep part inside him growl.

His eyes searched the room for her. Thankfully, she wasn’t on the dance floor with some man who didn’t deserve her. She was with her mother, smiling ever so sweetly at whatever the dowager countess had said.

“Sounds like a solid plan. However, it seems it will only be possible if you can manage to take your eyes off her.” Somerton elbowed his side.

“I never would have guessed that the Duke of Blackmoor was such a splendid dancer,” Lady Ridgewell gushed, a proud smile on her face.

Her boastful tone irked Juliana. She was talking loud enough for the nearby mamas to hear her. A counterproductive move because if anything, the dance Juliana had shared with the duke proved to the other mamas that he could be open for courtship. Soon, they would begin approaching him with their daughters in tow.

Juliana gritted her teeth. Her heartbeat hadn’t slowed since she had moved away from the duke. Neither did her mind stop racing, conjuring scenarios she knew were far-fetched.

She had danced with her fair share of men since her debut last year, but none of them made her feel the way the Duke of Blackmoor had. Not even close.

He had held her as though she were the most precious thing he had ever touched and he was scared to let go of her. For a moment, he had buried his nose in her hair, and she’d heard him inhale her scent.

He had spoken to her in a hushed tone, as though they were doing something secret, something illicit, something dangerous, something utterly forbidden.

Juliana sighed. She couldn’t lie to herself. Nothing about that dance had felt innocent. Not in the slightest.

“Don’t you think so, dear?” Her mother nudged when she remained silent.

“I wouldn’t say he is a splendid dancer, Mama, but I cannot deny his skills,” Juliana replied.

The dowager countess rolled her eyes, disbelief etched on her face. “You do not mean that,” she scoffed.

Juliana smiled because, truly, she had not meant it.

“It is such a shame that your uncle could not secure a match with someone like him,” Lady Ridgewell continued. “However, it is for the best. Lord Robshaw seems to have taken an interest in you. He could hardly take his eyes off you while you danced.”

Juliana could not decipher her mother’s words. She was not sure whether her mother truly meant them or she was just speaking because she felt she had to.

“Come, dear, you must award him with a dance. It’s best that the ton saw you both dance, so they would not be surprised should an official announcement be made.”

Juliana felt the strong urge to refuse, to demand that another match be found for her, but she swallowed her words.

She couldn’t possibly act out of turn now. It would bring shame to her family, and her ruination would be set in stone. So, she smiled and nodded, letting her mother lead her to the older man, whose eyes seemed to light up at the sight of her.

“Did you have a lovely time dancing?” he asked the moment they stood before him.

Lady Ridgewell nodded. “She did. However, I reckon she would feel fulfilled tonight if you honor her with a dance.”

Juliana recoiled.

Lord Robshaw laughed, obviously enjoying the idea of having such an importance in her life.

“I agree with you, Lady Ridgewell, but I am not much of a dancer. These old bones have taken to rest and can only do so much. In my youth, I was second to none—just like the Duke of Blackmoor.”

Juliana’s ears perked up at the mention of the duke. She met Lord Robshaw’s eyes, which were already trained on her, narrowed. She looked away from him, and he laughed.

“I am sure he would only come second to you,” Lady Ridgewell offered, a forced smile on her face.

Juliana let out a sigh. She wanted to tell her mother that she didn’t have to do so much. Regardless of whether she cozied up to Lord Robshaw, he would agree to the union. She doubted he would secure a bride as young as her anytime soon.

Still, she stood there, a small smile on her lips as she let her mother do whatever she wanted.

“…all I do now is enjoy the music. It is the only reason I bother myself with these events anymore,” Lord Robshaw added, squaring his shoulders as though to emphasize his importance.

“Perhaps if you had a wife, she would revive your passion for dancing, and you could enjoy more than just the music when you attend these events!” Lady Ridgewell exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement.

One would think it was she who would marry Lord Robshaw and not her daughter.

Lord Robshaw laughed.

“Juliana, what do you think?” Lady Ridgewell asked.

Juliana opened her mouth to respond. However, movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, forcing her to turn her head.

It was the Duke of Blackmoor, sneakily hurrying out of the ballroom, just like he had on the night of her engagement ball. Juliana knew right then that whatever he was up to, it involved Geoffrey, and she was determined to find out.

“Excuse me for a moment, Mama, Lord Robshaw.” She curtsied and slipped away before either of them could stop her.

She kept her eyes on the duke’s broad back, following after him as swiftly as she could. His large frame climbed up the flight of stairs leading to the east wing, as though he had his sights set there and nothing could deter him.

Once he was in the quiet corridor, he suddenly stopped walking.

“Head back.”

It was such a short and direct order that for a fleeting moment, Juliana wasn’t sure he was speaking to her.

She blinked, looking behind her. The coast was clear. She had been quiet, keeping ample distance between them. He didn’t even turn around, so there was no way he was talking to her.

Or so she had thought.

“Return to the ball, Lady Juliana,” he ordered again, his voice low, his head slightly angled toward his left shoulder.

Juliana froze. What had alerted him to her presence? How had he known she was behind him without so much as turning around?

She cleared her throat. “I—I cannot,” she declared.

It was then that the duke turned fully toward her. “Do you put yourself in compromising situations because you wish to be ruined, My Lady?” he asked, his voice harsh, mirroring the annoyance in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” She took a step back, shocked by his words.

“You heard me, Lady Juliana. Return to the ball. I shall not let you ruin this mission.”

Juliana gaped at him. “Mission?” she echoed.

The duke let out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair as he did. “It is hardly any of your business. I shall not repeat myself.”

“Your Grace, I only wish to know what Geoffrey is up to. I still do not understand half of what happened between us and his reason for leaving. You have refused to tell me, so I must find out on my own. And if this is the way to do it, then so be it,” Juliana said, surprised by how firm her voice sounded.

The duke sucked in a breath, looking sideways and then back at her.

“Stay out of my way. And be quiet.”

Juliana nodded fearlessly, a smile spreading across her face as she stood straight, waiting for him to make a move.

She could tell that the last thing he wanted was for her to be there, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to discover Geoffrey’s reason for abandoning her and bringing scandal upon her family.

The Duke of Blackmoor walked ahead of her. His movements were swift, calculated, and effortlessly powerful—grace tempered with raw strength and the quiet authority of a man who always got what he wanted.

Still, Juliana’s mind was more fixated on his words than on his powerful physique. He had said a ‘ mission’ —a word she had overheard her father utter in hushed tones to some of his visitors.

Despite her father being a renowned military man, Juliana had never concerned herself with things of that nature, as she was too busy caring for her family. Now, she wondered if whatever the duke was up to was related to the military.

She shook her head.

If the duke was an army officer, it would have been known to all. He wouldn’t try to keep his missions a secret.

They rounded a corner, and from the short distance, Juliana could see a footman slumped against a door.

“What in the devil’s—” the duke hissed as he ran to the door, not sparing the footman one glance as he pushed it open.

Juliana gasped, her blood running cold as she forced her legs to move.

“Norfield, you bastard,” the duke growled.

As Juliana raised her head and looked into the room—a study—she spotted a man climbing out the window.

“Geoffrey?” she mumbled, her heart sinking as she watched the man to whom she was once betrothed jump out of the window.

She ran into the room, while the duke rushed to the window, ready to jump out of it as well, but then he halted.

Geoffrey had already dusted himself off the ground and climbed over the fence on the left side of the mansion.

“Bloody damned hell!” the duke snapped.

Juliana seemed dazed, her attention focused on the figure running into the night, unable to believe what she had just seen.

“Surely, my eyes deceived me,” she muttered. “That man was not Geoffrey, was he?” she asked, looking up at the duke, who was seething.

“If only you had listened to me when I told you to return to the ball,” he grunted.

It was neither an answer to her question nor a response that correlated with her question.

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, unable to make sense of what he’d just said.

“You should have listened to me when I told you to return. Now I’ve lost Norfield,” he groaned.

Juliana noticed his balled fists, and realization dawned on her.

“You think it’s my fault he fled?” she asked, her eyes wide in shock.

The duke turned to her slightly. “I do not think it is your fault, Lady Juliana. It is your fault,” he retorted.

“I stayed out of your way and stayed quiet, Your Grace. So, how on earth was it my fault that Geoffrey fled?”

“I could’ve caught up to him, had you not slowed me down.”

Juliana blinked once, twice, searching his face for any hint of a joke. His blue eyes were blazing with a savage fire, keeping her rooted to the spot, saying without words that he did mean his accusation.

“I cannot believe this!” she scoffed, taking a step away from him. “You spent less than a minute speaking to me. Do you mean to tell me, Your Grace, that you would’ve arrived here in those few seconds? I can hardly believe you.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I would have,” he shot back curtly as he took a step toward her.

“You missed him simply because you were late,” she countered, taking another step backward.

“That was because of you.” He took another step forward.

“You didn’t even waste half a minute speaking to me.” She stepped backward once again.

He was close, close enough for her to inhale the manly, woodsy scent of him that made her insides churn in uncomfortable anticipation.

Anticipation of what? She wasn’t sure.

Juliana shook her head to rid herself of her wanton thoughts and sucked in a breath.

“I am hardly the reason for your failure to apprehend Geoffrey, Your Grace, and I am offended by your accusation.”

“You had other reasons for coming out here, Lady Juliana. Did Norfield put you up to this?” the duke asked, his eyes narrowed.

Despite his accusatory tone, her heart began to beat erratically.

It was his nearness, no doubt. His nearness had always had such an effect on her.

Juliana tore her eyes away from him, looking for a chance to escape, but he was big, and with a desk behind her, she had nowhere to run to.

“I shall pretend I did not just hear that, Your Grace,” she said before taking a deep breath, unintentionally inhaling his scent. She bit her lip.

The duke’s eyes dropped to her lips at the small action, and he sucked in a breath. Juliana instantly felt hot all over.

She should push him away. She should comment on the compromising position they were in. She should worry about being found out and further ruining her reputation. But she stood there, staring right back into his eyes.

“I believe”—he moved closer—“you heard me clearly.” His voice dropped an octave, sending shivers up and down her spine.

“I—” she began, but her throat closed up, and she could not, for the life of her, get any more words out.

“You came here simply to distract me.” His voice was now a whisper, teasing her ear deliciously. “You should have stayed away from me. I gave you multiple chances, yet here you are.”

A thick tension stretched ever tightly between them, and Juliana breathed in shallow yet quiet gasps, unable to find the words to defend herself.

Suddenly, an unreadable emotion flickered across his face, and in the blink of an eye, his strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her flush against his large body.

He took her lips with such swiftness that she was momentarily disoriented.

One of his hands rested on the nape of her neck, angling her head so he could have better access. All the while, his tongue coaxed her lips to grant him entry. She opened her mouth, and the moment her tongue touched his, she felt as though her insides would melt.

Giving in to the sheer passion of his kiss with a sigh and a soft moan, she let her body melt against him.

The thought of kissing him had crossed her mind a few times since their first meeting. However, nothing could have ever prepared her for this.

She tasted the faint hint of brandy and mint on his lips as his other arm wrapped around her back, pressing her harder against him.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” he groaned low and deep, pressing his body against hers harder, as though he couldn’t be close enough, as though he aimed to seep into her skin and become one with her.

Blood pounded in her temples, leaped from her heart, and made her knees tremble. His muscular arm held her up, and he backed her up against the desk, his lips never leaving hers as he nudged her legs open and settled between them.

Alarm bells began ringing in Juliana’s head, telling her to put a stop to whatever they were doing. But with her lips preoccupied, the only sounds she could make were sounds of pleasure. She’d never thought kissing could be so…addictive.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathed against her lips.

Then, he dragged his lips down her chin, trailing wet kisses down her neck, licking and nipping her flesh.

Wetness pooled between her thighs, the pleasure clouding her judgment, until a voice interrupted them.

“What in the heavens is going on in here?”