Page 10 of The Duke’s Defiant Angel (Dukes Gone Dirty #1)

10

E vangeline toyed with the embroidery on her blanket as she stared up at her bedroom ceiling.

Raff had been true to his word. That first night she’d waited for him to return to her bedroom, tossing and turning, certain he would come back to claim what was his.

But he hadn’t.

And it was becoming abundantly clear that he would honor his word. He would wait for her to come to him. To beg him.

She scowled at the ceiling. Impossible man.

And yet…

There was that sensation again, coiling in her belly and refusing to let her sleep. It was restlessness, yes, as she couldn’t quite settle. But it was more than that. It was heavy and nagging and…

Guilt.

It was guilt. She flipped onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut, but that did no good. If anything, it made this twisting, slithering sensation worsen because all she could see was the look on Raff’s face this evening when she’d asked about her future.

He’d shut down. That was the only way she could think to describe it.

He’d shut her out.

For a little while, dining with him had almost been...cozy. Talking to him had been surprisingly easy. He’d worn a smile, yes, but it hadn’t been taunting. It hadn’t been patronizing either. He’d listened to her with what seemed to be genuine interest. His gaze had fixed on her, and he’d… Well, he’d listened.

Listening oughtn’t be such an enormous act, but in her experience, listening was not a common occurrence. She was a young lady. Her role was to be seen, not heard. How often had she been told that as a child?

Her father had no patience for her talking, and not even her mother had taken much interest in her hobbies or pastimes. And so, she’d learned to keep her mouth shut. But for a little while at dinner, she’d felt as though he’d actually wanted her to speak. And in turn, he’d been...different.

Not necessarily open. But not nearly so aloof as she’d expected. She’d gotten a glimpse past his walls. And she realized...that was what it was. His mockery, his laughter. His smug arrogance. It was a defense. All part of the ducal facade one might expect.

At least, she thought perhaps it might be.

She flopped onto her other side and plumped her pillow with a bit too much force.

Oh drat. She wasn’t used to being plagued by guilt, and she did not care for it. She tried to steer her thoughts to her day in town. A day spent watching townsfolk and shopkeepers stare, whispers following in her wake.

From what she could gather, the Duke of Raffian was not exactly beloved by the people. The amount of awe and reverence that followed in her wake made her feel quite set apart.

Was that how Raff felt? She did not think he was lying when he’d said he was typically surrounded by sycophants.

And when she’d joined him for dinner, there was a moment when he’d looked so lonely.

She flopped onto her back once more.

Loneliness. That was the emotion she’d seen when she’d joined him at dinner. Wasn’t it? She could have sworn he’d been relieved to have her company. And when she’d spoken bluntly…

Her stomach formed a knot.

Again with the guilt. And the sympathy. After all, loneliness was something she could well understand. And the guilt? Well, that had nothing to do with his conversation and everything to do with the look he’d given her when she’d asked about the future.

Had she hurt his feelings?

She frowned up at the ceiling. Impossible.

He’d only married her to have his way with her in bed.

Instantly her cheeks grew warm, and her pulse grew fluttery. Though, for a man who’d only wanted her for her beauty and to have her in his bed… He hadn’t yet claimed her in that way, now had he?

She sighed harshly as she sat up. Oh, this was useless. She couldn’t stay here fretting all night.

She threw back the covers with a sigh.

She wouldn’t bother the servants this late at night, but a warm cup of milk would do the trick. Her night rail cinched tight, Evangeline padded through the great house and to the kitchen.

Once there, she let out a cry of alarm. Her squeak was perhaps a bit unwarranted. Raff had hardly snuck up on her. If anything, one might argue that she had snuck up on him . He had a candle on the counter and was helping himself to a slice of bread. He arched a brow as she hovered in the doorway. “Trouble sleeping?”

She nodded.

His gaze dropped, sweeping over her and seeming to see everything despite the dim light. “Hungry, were you?”

His voice was so low that the seemingly innocent somehow managed to seem indecent.

She pressed her legs together as that now familiar, yet still strange sensation made her lower belly feel heavy and her limbs shake. “I was just going to fetch some milk.”

“Allow me,” he said.

Surely he was joking. But then, in three short strides, he was standing just in front of her, and he lifted her at her waist like she weighed nothing before setting her on the countertop beside the candle. “Your bare feet will get cold on the stone floor,” he said.

As if that was an explanation.

As if he actually cared about her feet.

She pressed her lips together, nerves making her heart race as she watched him. Why she was nervous, she couldn’t quite say.

It was a sensation she could not shake around him. It was as if the very air around him quivered in expectation.

Maybe that was what came with being a powerful man who ruled over so many. His actions could affect so many. Why, he could ruin lives with the sweep of his signature.

Wasn’t that what he’d done to her?

Ruined her life? She frowned. That seemed too harsh even in her thoughts. He’d destroyed her plans for her life. Her dreams. Not her life.

She bit her lip as she watched him work.

It felt wrong to think about Albert here and now while in this man’s house. In her house.

An odd sound escaped. Heavens, she was still trying to come to grips with all that had changed.

He looked over with a curious expression. “All right?” he asked.

She nodded. “I just...I still feel a bit odd, I suppose.”

He stilled, a jug of milk in his hands. “How so?”

She was grateful he couldn’t see her flaming cheeks as she watched him. With only his shirt on, and open at the collar...it was impossible not to notice the muscles on his back and arms. The flickering candlelight seemed to call attention with his every move.

“Angel?” His low voice cut into her wandering thoughts.

“Oh, I just...I only meant…” She swallowed hard. “Being in a new home. Being someone’s wife—” Being the wrong person’s wife. “I suppose it takes some getting used to, that’s all.”

“Several weeks was not enough?” The question sounded mild, but she felt just as she did at the dinner table.

As though she’d offended him. Which was silly.

“I did not believe this would actually transpire,” she admitted. “Not at first. Not for a while. I thought my father would see reason, you see.”

He didn’t say a word. Not one. His silence made her tense. When at last he brought her milk, perfectly warmed, and settled it into her hands, her whole body was quivering beneath the heavy silence.

“I did not mean to offend,” she whispered.

His gaze met hers, darker than ever in the candlelight. “Nonsense. You did not offend. You merely spoke the truth, and I told you earlier that I appreciate honesty.” One side of his mouth hitched up. “Even if it is not particularly pleasant.”

She mashed her lips together to keep from apologizing again. Why was she apologizing? She’d never wanted this marriage, and he was the one who’d forced her hand.

Her brows drew together as she remembered what he’d said. He hadn’t believed her father. Wasn’t that what he’d said the other night?

Her father had said she did not wish to marry him, and he had not believed him. But why?

Her stomach sank low as she tried to imagine the conversation between her father and her husband.

Was it Raff who’d forced her hand? Or her father? That knot in her belly seemed to tumble and turn in a sickening manner.

“Now, now, child,” he said, gently smoothing a thumb between her brows to ease her frown of confusion. “No need to fret so.”

Her frown only intensified. “I’m not a child.”

The words seemed to echo harshly because of her tone? It had sounded…childish. And the way she was seated, in her night rail and with her feet dangling?

She hardly felt like an elegant lady.

And then there was the fact that she was clutching warm milk.

“Drat,” she muttered.

His smile was slow, and it made her belly flip. “You are not a child,” he agreed.

But she had been childish. She swallowed hard at the self-accusatory thought. It wasn’t her mother’s words coming back to haunt her, and it wasn’t Raff saying it.

Worse, she had the nagging suspicion that she’d been standing on the wrong foot all the while. Angry at the wrong man. Fighting him in all the wrong ways.

Her breath caught as her mind called up an image of his hand over hers, buried between her thighs.

“I…I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I just don’t like to be called a child.”

“You don’t like when I call you child, nor Angel, nor Angie,” he said. “I’m at a loss as to what to call you, I’m afraid.”

“Angel,” she said. It came out on a whisper that had his brows hitching up. She lifted a shoulder. “I’ve grown used to it.”

His smile grew. “Very well, then...Angel. Is that what has you up tonight, unable to sleep?” He leaned in, and all she could smell was his scent. Liquor and spice and soap. It was heady and...pleasant. Almost homey.

She didn’t answer immediately, and then she couldn’t answer as his hands came to rest on either side of her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat at his closeness. She was effectively trapped, with him standing so close her knees brushed his ribcage, and his face was even with hers.

“Pardon?” she said.

He reached out and touched the lower lip she’d been worrying, making her gasp as a jolt of sensation shot through her at the intimate touch.

“Are you up fretting over your lost love?”

His voice was taunting, but his eyes…

Oh, his eyes made that guilt twist and writhe. There was no anger, but she was nearly certain she caught a flicker of hurt.

“No,” she admitted.

And then her guilt reared up again, but this time toward Albert. She hadn’t been thinking of him. Not one of her many conflicted thoughts had been about the man she’d forsaken.

So no, she hadn’t been thinking of Albert. But perhaps she should have been.

“Did you and this gentleman have an understanding?” he asked as she took a sip of milk.

She shook her head. “Not officially. But he spoke to me about possibly one day…”

She trailed off as Raff’s eyes darkened. “He spoke to you without speaking to your father first? Well…” His voice lightened with mockery. “Perhaps I did not give this rogue credit. Nor you, it would seem.”

She stiffened. “It wasn’t like that. He took no liberties. And he did speak to my father. That is, he would have spoken to him again, and?—”

“I see.”

She set her cup down, her spine straightening at his taunting tone. He did not see. “He asked my father for permission to court me, and my father insisted that I have a Season first and?—”

“Yes, yes. And then the wicked duke came along and stole you away,” he finished, his tone dry but his eyes flashing dangerously.

“Something like that,” she murmured.

“And your father knew your feelings on the matter,” he continued.

Something about the way he was talking made her feel like he was prying. He phrased it as a statement, but there was a question implicit there as well. Almost as if he wasn’t certain what he knew.

Or what she knew.

She frowned at the thought that he knew more about her father’s mind than she did.

“My father knew my opinion,” she said slowly. “But he thought that my feelings were childish.”

The word hung heavy again.

“I believe my father thought I would no longer wish to marry him once I’d met other gentlemen of higher rank and with greater wealth.”

“Ah, so this man is not so very rich and powerful,” he said.

“No.” She huffed. “And I did not care.”

“But your father did.”

She didn’t answer. The answer was clear.

“Were you in love with this man for long?” His careless tone made her stiffen. But when she went to shift away, his hands caught her thighs, and that place low in her belly gave a tug that left her breathless.

“Not long,” she said. “His family took over the estate near ours two years ago, and over time, we became friends.”

She pursed her lips because...that did not sound right. Albert wasn’t her friend. He was too handsome for that. It had taken her a year just to speak to him in anything other than blushes and stammers. It was only the past months leading up to her engagement that he’d begun to express his ardor. And always so sweetly. A stolen touch of her hand. A poem slipped into her book. All of the romantic gestures that she’d read about as a girl.

She blushed as she ducked her head. No doubt Raff would laugh at such things. He’d think them childish, for certain. And she didn’t want to give him any more reasons to doubt her maturity.

His fingers caught her chin and gently lifted her head, so she was forced to meet his gaze, her lips parting.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

He dropped his hand, but her lips remained parted. He was apologizing? What for?

His lips twitched as though her shock amused him. “I may not say it often, but I am capable of regret, you know.”

“And do you regret marrying me?” Her insides stilled. She felt as though her very existence rested on his answer.

He scoffed. “Christ, no.”

Her brows drew together in confusion.

“I’m sorry that you were hurt. I regret that I didn’t give you the time and attention that you deserved from a courtship.” He leaned in close until his lips were so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek. “But I’ll never apologize for taking what’s mine.”

She swallowed hard, her heart scrambling in her chest like it was trying to get out. “I wasn’t yours when you claimed me.”

I’ll never be yours. That was what she ought to have said. You’ll never have my heart.

Wasn’t that what she’d said their first night together?

She still meant it.

Didn’t she?

He dropped a light kiss on the edge of her lips. “You don’t like being claimed, Angel, is that it? You don’t wish to be mine?”

There was that teasing again—that taunting. But combined with the way he feathered kisses over her jaw, her cheeks...close to her mouth but not actually kissing her the way she wanted.

Oh, dear. She did want him to kiss her.

She sat back in alarm.

“That’s all right, Angel,” he continued, catching her by the back of her neck to hold her still. “That’s why I’m waiting for you to claim me.”

Her throat worked, but no words would come. Not a protest. Not even a “no.”

“Is that why you came down here, love?” he continued, his voice wrapping around her and making her limbs grow heavy. “Were you seeking me out to beg, Angel?”

“W-what? N-no, of course not.” A flare of wicked heat between her thighs begged to differ.

She hadn’t been seeking him out. Had she?

She’d merely wanted milk.

His hands splayed over her thighs, his thumbs settling on the inside and digging into her soft flesh, but he didn’t part her legs again. He held still. “Tell me what you want.”

Her eyes widened. What did she want? She didn’t know where to start.

What mattered now was how they moved forward.

“What?” He kissed her nose. “Do.” He kissed her chin. “You.” He kissed her forehead. “Want?” He grazed the lightest kiss over her lips. So light, she could barely feel it.

She leaned in as he pulled away.

She just barely bit back a growl of frustration.

Why? Why did he keep doing that? One moment he seemed to her a...a man . A man, not just a duke. More than a title. And then he’d do this. Pull away, whether by shutting her out with coldness or physically to deny her pleasure.

It was maddening.

What did she want?

She wanted the same thing she’d wanted the day before when they’d gambled on cards.

She wanted answers.

Her hands came to his shirt, and she clenched the material, making his eyes flare slightly in surprise. “Why is this place not your home?”

It was a silly question, but it was a start.

He shrugged. “I prefer London.”

“And why are you surrounded by sycophants?”

He smirked. “Because I am a duke.”

She frowned. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted answers. She wanted truth. She wanted...more. She wanted to see the man behind the title. To know for certain what lay beneath all the taunting and the swagger.

When she glanced back up, she saw his gaze had settled on her lips. Her head seemed to spin as her lungs struggled for air.

“Why are you down here in the kitchen tonight?” she asked, her voice a whisper as he leaned in so close his chest brushed against her breasts.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

“Me neither.”

“Were you hungry, Angel?” he asked.

She nodded.

His grin was sudden and wicked. “So was I.”

“W-what are you doing?” Her voice rose sharply as he swept aside the contents of the countertop behind her in one quick move.

“Lean back, Angel,” he said.

“Why?”

He laughed. “Because I believe you are just as hungry as I am. Just as restless.” His gaze dropped down between her thighs, and she felt an ache so intense it made her whimper.

He tsked. “Poor little darling. I thought so. I have no doubt that if I were to touch you there, you’d be so very wet for me.”

Her cheeks were on fire. Why was she wet? Was that normal? Her mother never said anything about that. Part of her wanted to ask, but humiliation stopped her.

He thrust her legs apart, and she squeaked—to her horror, the sound wasn’t a protest.

To her great regret, she wasn’t even afraid.

To her everlasting shame, she was...excited. Breathless to see what he’d do next.

“One of us ought to find relief,” he murmured. His hands were already hitching up her skirts. “Let me see your breasts, Angel.”

“W-what?”

He speared her with a look that made her hot and cold at once. There was a command in his eyes that she could not deny. Nerves and excitement thrummed through her as she unknotted her nightrail and pulled it open, her fingers working the buttons down the front of her gown.

“That’s it,” he said. “You’ll be begging me soon enough, Angel. Once you see how good it can be.”

She wanted to argue, but the place between her thighs was throbbing, and she shifted restlessly as she willed him to touch her. But he wouldn’t. Not without something in return.

She slid the gown from her shoulders and held her breath as her skin was revealed.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. His eyes flashed hot and dangerous, a muscle clenching tight in his jaw.

She might have thought him angry if that heat in his eyes wasn’t so very hungry.

She glanced down, embarrassed but not frightened at the sight of his hard length stretching against his breeches.

His hands came to her breasts gently. Almost lovingly, he seemed to weigh them in his palms. “So beautiful.” He flicked his thumbs over the already taut nipples, and she whimpered, her hips jerking.

That made him smile. He looked like a wolf as his gaze met hers, hungry and fierce. “Do you like that, love?” He pinched her nipples harder, and she gasped as her hips rocked.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” she said.

His gaze softened, his touch, too.

She shivered as his fingers caressed the swell of her breasts, over the tips, and around the sides.

“I told you, Angel. I’m showing you that you have nothing to fear with me. You don’t have to love me to find satisfaction. And I think we’ll both enjoy this marriage far more if we learn to find our pleasures where we can.”

The words hit wrong. Ever since she’d arrived in this kitchen, she’d been feeling like a target with arrows piercing her in all the soft spots, but that last comment made her stomach drop and her heart clench.

Find our pleasures where we can.

So practical. So...wrong. So not what she wanted from marriage. No talk of love, of family, of?—

She gasped as his hands dropped back down to shove her thighs apart roughly, the skirts all the way up now to reveal her bare core.

“I told you I was hungry,” he said with a devilish smile. And then he did the unthinkable.

He buried his head between her thighs, and he kissed her there . His mouth covered her sex, open and hot. His tongue pressed between her folds in a wide, penetrating lick before he pulled back and gentled his touch.

Her cry of shock turned into a wail as sensations raced through her, too overwhelming to know if they were good or bad, pain or pleasure.

Her head fell back as he nuzzled her folds, his lips tender and firm just like when he kissed her mouth, and the stubble on his jaw scraping her inner thighs.

Pleasure. Her head fell back as his tongue flicked out to trace along the slit of her seam.

Definitely pleasure.

His tongue was teasing and coy, flicking out softly and then harder as he explored her womanhood, from her tight channel all the way up to that hard little nub.

Her hips rocked as he spread her wider, his hands moving to cup her bottom, so he was lifting her up.

This was so wrong. So very wrong.

“Oh, oh….” It was all she could say as her hips jerked and rocked, pleasure making her tilt her hips up even further to meet his mouth and embarrassment making her wiggle away.

She was in a blasted wrestling match with herself. “I can’t, I can’t,” she said.

He growled against her heat before lifting his head to meet her gaze. “You can,” he said before licking her once more with one long stroke all the way from her bottom to that sensitive nub. “You can, and I will.”

She shivered at the harshness in his voice. The firm command that made her feel at once helpless and at ease.

She had no choice in the matter. There was no debate. She was his, after all.

He didn’t let her argue any more after that, burying his face and laying siege to her womanhood. His tongue licked her wide and soft before he hardened it to a point to tease her fleshy folds.

She was all out writhing now, lying flat on the counter with her hands buried in his hair.

She told herself she was trying to stop him, but her nails dug into his scalp as she held him closer, grinding herself against his hot mouth for more.

“More .” The plea slipped out of her, and she felt his firm, wicked lips curve up in a smile between her thighs.

When his tongue teased her entrance, she moaned.

She was still achy and empty even as her limbs trembled from the onslaught of sensation.

“This is where I’ll fuck you, Angel,” he growled, his hands releasing his grip on her buttocks to slide a thick finger into her channel. “This is where I’ll bury my cock inside of you and pound into you until you come so hard you scream bloody murder.”

She gasped, whimpers escaping as he drove that finger deep inside of her over and over again.

“So wet,” he groaned. “So tight and slick.”

His words should have horrified her, but all she could do was lift her head to watch as he worked some magic that had a tight cord building between her womb and her breasts.

She needed him to touch her breasts again. Her skin was raw, her nipples so tight. With a moan, she arched her breasts high, and then...she touched herself. Squeezing her nipples like he’d done.

“Good girl,” he said in a harsh tone. He sounded like he was losing control, just as she was.

Her head fell back with a cry as his finger slid in and out, too big and insistent but filling that needy ache as his tongue went back to worshiping the slit between her legs.

“Mmm.” He murmured his approval against her hot aching flesh as he watched her touching herself. “That’s a good girl. That’s my sweet angel.”

“Oh,” she moaned.

His tongue flicked that hard pearl, and she let out a short scream.

“That’s right. I’m going to bring you close to heaven, Angel.

He sucked the hard nub between his teeth, and lights exploded behind her eyes. Her head thrashed from side to side as he burrowed between her thighs and kissed her, licked her, drove his finger harder and deeper inside her until?—

“Oh God!” she shrieked as the world exploded around her, and she shattered into a million pieces.

His low chuckle brought her back to earth as he straightened her clothes and helped her sit upright.

“Not a god, love,” he said, his voice smug even though his expression was tight. “Just a duke.”

With a guilty glance, she spotted his hardness. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “But tasting your sweet core was worth it.”

Her cheeks were definitely on fire now, and his answering chuckle should have irked her. But before she could get angry, he pulled her into his arms and settled her cheek to his chest. “Don’t worry, Angel. One day soon, you’ll be begging me to claim you, so I won’t be in pain for long.”

She thought about telling him he was wrong. But as her eyes closed and her body reveled in the aftermath of whatever this was…

She wasn’t quite sure that was true.