Page 6 of The Duke’s Defiant Angel (Dukes Gone Dirty #1)

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S he ought to be terrified.

And she was scared. Her heart was hammering so wildly because she was afraid.

That was the only reason.

Though, as she leaned in slightly, curious at the hard thing that was jabbing her in the belly, she realized that perhaps she ought to be more frightened than she was.

But despite the duke’s hard smile as he glared down at her, despite the way he held her tight and the obscene way he was shoving himself into her, she wasn’t entirely scared.

She was also...hot. Disturbingly so. Her limbs were heavy, and her blood too warm as their breathing mingled, and she waited for him to act.

He wouldn’t force himself on her. She knew that. He was taunting her, trying to demonstrate his power, but there was no real cruelty in his eyes. And he’d been in earnest before when he’d said he wouldn’t force her.

The thought of taking her against her will seemed to have filled him with disgust, by the looks of it.

That was why she wasn’t as afraid as she ought to be, she supposed.

For all his snarling and growls, for all his high-handed statements about how lucky she ought to consider herself, he was not going to have his way with her.

She pulled back, testing this theory. After a brief resistance, he let her go.

And now they were both breathing heavily as if they’d come to blows and not just stood in one another’s arms.

She turned away toward the fire as she struggled for composure.

Albert . She needed to remember Albert. She’d given him her heart; it was his forever. But the reality of her new situation was impossible to avoid now that she was here, in his home, as his wife, surrounded by his servants.

This was her life now. She was a wife. And perhaps someday, she’d be a mother.

The thought was the only bright spot in the darkened sky that had been hovering over her for the past fortnight.

Albert would come for her if this life was unbearably awful.

But could she do that to her parents? Could she cast them in scandal and force Albert to live outside of society if she were deemed a traitorous wife? No, of course, she could not.

Her mother was right. It was time to grow up. Time to accept her fate.

Her limbs stiff with determination, she awkwardly moved past him to the bed.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

She assumed it was obvious as she climbed up on the high bed with as much grace as she could muster.

Now that her anger was fading, her hands began to tremble with what was about to occur. Her mother had told her what to expect and what was expected of her. To lie there. That was all she must do. Lie there and suffer in silence.

With a deep breath, she lay back against the pillows, shutting her eyes tight, the crackle of the fire the only sound in this overwhelmingly large room with its excessively large bed and the irritatingly large duke.

The bed sank with a creak, but she did not open her eyes to see him.

“Evangeline.” His voice sounded too loud in this silence. Too loud and too...practical. There was no hint of that angry growl or the passion in his voice when he’d held her close.

She peeked at him through one eye.

“What are you doing?” He looked genuinely perplexed and more than a little irritated.

She let out a long exhale as she shut her eyes. “My wifely duty.”

“Your—”

It sounded as though he choked on the word, and he didn’t finish his thought. The bed jostled again as he came up to join her.

She waited for the feel of his heavy weight crushing her, but what she got was...a gentle stroke of his hand over her cheek.

Her eyes flew open, and that was a mistake. For he was close. Closer than he’d ever been. Close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes and the light stubble that covered his jawline. Close enough that she could taste the wine on his breath and feel the heat from his skin as he hovered over her.

Hovering, but not touching.

“I know I don’t exactly have a decent reputation among society,” he said softly, his voice oddly soothing, even as it stirred a curious sensation deep in her belly with its low rumble. “And for good reason,” he said. “I am not a good man. I gamble, I drink, and I’ve never been faithful to any woman.” His gaze met hers. “And I never plan to be.”

Her lips parted as the air rushed out of her lungs.

His eyes glinted dangerously as his fingers continued to stroke her cheek, her jaw, her hair. It was the sort of touch one might use to calm a fretful child, and it confused her, mentally and physically.

He was touching her tenderly while informing her that he would not be a faithful husband. He was caressing her sweetly after telling her that he’d only married her to have his way with her.

She frowned. She did not understand him at all.

“I would obviously not have told you that last fact,” he said, his tone growing lazy as his hand tangled in her hair, stroking her scalp and sending a cascade of unexpected sensations down her spine. “I wouldn’t have told you about my plans to continue taking mistresses and enjoying whores, except that you clearly wish for abject honesty between us.”

His gaze clashed with hers again, and the ferocity there stole her breath.

“So let me be clear, Angel. I don’t care who owns your heart. I don’t care what you do with that overactive mind of yours. But your body is mine.” His gaze seared her with its fire. “As your husband, I have claim to that. Do you understand?”

She gave a short nod, her heart fluttering frantically. He wasn’t holding her down in any way, but she was trapped. Captive.

At his mercy.

“But your body does not belong to me, is that it?” She heard her voice, heard her words, but they were not what she’d meant to say.

She almost sounded...jealous. But that wasn’t right. She didn’t want his body. She didn’t want him at all.

His lips curved up on one side. “It’s yours if you lay claim to it, love.”

A shiver raced through her and made her tremble. He made a sweet shushing sound as if to soothe her as he leaned over her, burrowing his face in the crook between her head and her shoulder and trailing the softest of kisses along skin she hadn’t realized was so very sensitive.

She gasped at the feel of his lips moving lightly over the flesh beneath her ear. So lightly, it made something deep inside her ache at the gentleness of it, so at odds with the firm voice and fiery glare.

Her back arched slightly, involuntarily, like her body was asking for something, and she didn’t know what.

She could feel his smile against her neck as he continued in low, soothing tones.

“That is the deal we shall strike between us here tonight, Angel. Here and now, let us strike a bargain, so we might live harmoniously, hmm?”

She couldn’t protest even if she wanted to. Her mouth had gone dry, and her lungs refused to draw in air as his lips wandered over her jaw and chin, his stubble making her shiver whenever it brushed against her soft skin.

“Unfair as it might be, I must insist that you keep your body for me alone—I cannot risk you bearing another man’s child, after all,” he said. “Responsibilities to the dukedom, and all that.”

How was he talking? She could only barely keep up with him as he continued his light caresses and gentle kissing.

“And if you decide you wish to take upon the task of keeping me sated in bed,” he continued. “If you decide you’d like to be the woman who fulfills all my needs—” He pulled back to look down at her with eyes dark with desire. “Of which there are many, I should warn you.” He leaned down and grazed his lips over hers in a soft, sweet kiss that made her gasp for air. “Why then, all you have to do is claim your place in my bed, and I shall be faithful as well. Is that fair?”

She found herself nodding dazedly. It sounded reasonable.

He would be faithful if she wanted him to be.

But she wouldn’t want him to be.

And she would be faithful. There was nothing to debate there. She’d already made that promise to God in church that very morning.

“Say yes if you understand,” he said.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He cut the word off with another kiss, harder this time as though he were sealing the vow with his lips. His lips crushed hers, firm and hot as a brand. She stiffened at the force of it, but he eased the force of his kiss quickly. Then he was moving his mouth over hers, slowly at first, and then with more insistence. His lips were hot and sure, teasing hers, prodding hers. It felt like they were asking a question.

The kisses were leisurely but incessant, unyielding in their persistence, and the overall effect was confusing. His warmth was spreading over her, through her, surrounding her. Her hands lay at her sides, but her fingers moved restlessly over the duvet as his gentle assault made her thoughts scatter with each new touch.

When she parted her lips for air, his tongue flicked out and touched her lower lip. She gasped and then felt his answering smile against her mouth.

She couldn’t breathe. The way he was kissing her now, it was...it was surely wrong. It was messy and wild.

His mouth was open against hers, hot and wet and slanting over hers for more access.

His kiss was wild, and it made her feel wild, like her body was out of her control. Each time his lips clung to hers, her body moved to answer. Like a call and an echo, she found herself kissing him back without meaning to. Her body was shifting and swaying along with his as his tongue teased her lips wider, the heat of his mouth making her forget that this wasn’t what she wanted.

What she wanted was…

More.

Her thoughts had abandoned her. Her body was in control now, and it was asking for more. More heat. More friction. More touching. More tasting.

Her hands came up to touch him, a light touch first to his hard chest and then lower, stopping when he groaned into her mouth before plunging his tongue inside her, stroking hers with a familiarity that made her whimper.

He pulled back, his breathing heavy as her chest rose and fell. She struggled to get air. Her head was spinning, and his darkened gaze made her skin burn wherever it fell.

His gaze roamed over her, and this time, she didn’t try to cover herself, clutching the covers beneath her instead.

She was a wife now. This was her duty.

That was what she told herself. But when his gaze stopped at her breasts, she couldn’t quite lie still. Her nipples chafed against the material, and her skin was impossibly hot.

She waited for him to order her to undress.

Or perhaps he would do it?

She trembled beneath him as she waited.

He reached out and trailed one finger down the length of her neck, over her collarbone, and over the curve of her right breast. He stopped at the hardened tip that even she could see poking up through her clothing.

“So beautiful, Angel.” He traced the tip of her breast, circling it teasingly with his finger. The touch was so light, so gentle, she found herself arching up again with a sound that made her wince.

She sounded needy. Desperate.

What was happening to her?

Was this normal?

Her mother hadn’t mentioned anything about tracing her breasts through her clothing. In fact, none of this was what she’d expected.

He murmured something that sounded like, “One taste,” and then he was leaning over her, his hot mouth clamping over her breast and?—

“Oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth as he suckled her nipple through the thin fabric, the wet heat sending a flare of warmth from her breasts straight down to her core. A moan slipped out from behind her hand as that heat grew and pooled between her thighs.

What was happening?

What wickedness was he doing to her?

Quite without thinking, she dropped her hand from her mouth. She meant to push his shoulder, to unlatch his hot mouth from her breast, but then she found her hand on the back of his head instead. Her fingers buried in his thick dark hair, and in her addled state, she couldn’t say if she were trying to tear his head away or hold him closer.

His low chuckle as he cupped her breasts together and burrowed his face between them seemed to say that he knew.

He moved his head back and forth, his mouth hot and insistent against the sensitive skin of her nipples.

Her breathing was fast, and odd little whimpers kept escaping her. She couldn’t lie still no matter how hard she tried. She kept arching, and then her hips would buck upward. There was an ache there that she could not name, could not understand. But it was growing more painful with his every kiss.

Was this the pain her mother referred to?

She wanted to ask him.

She had no idea how to ask him.

He seemed to understand what was happening, though, because he let one hand slide from her breasts over her belly until it reached that hot, aching spot between her thighs. Still touching her over her clothes, he pressed a firm hand between her legs, cupping her with thick, demanding fingers.

With a shout, her hips rose up. He wasn’t hurting her, but the feel of anyone touching her there was so new, and so...so…

Another whimper escaped as her legs parted to give him more access. His touch was easing the ache and making it worse all at once. His mouth moved back to hers, and he swallowed her whimpers before kissing her neck. “Easy, Angel. I have you.”

I have you. There it was again. That reassurance that was at once heartwarming and infuriating.

He pulled back to gaze down at her, and his eyes were so dark, she wondered if one could get lost in them.

“Now,” he said, his voice back to the way it had been before when he’d first approached. So practical and low and...unmoved. His lips quirked up in a small smirk that made her gut tighten. “Tell me, Angel. Do you want me to claim you as my wife?”

It was the arrogance in his voice that had her lips clamping shut and her mind racing back into action.

He was so sure of himself. So sure of her.

Through clenched teeth, she said, “I will do my duty.”

His eyes flared with temper, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your duty.”

She squeezed her eyes shut once more, and she spread her legs as her mother had told her to do. “Do what you must.”

A second passed. Then two.

When the bed jostled, she opened her eyes in confusion. “Where are you going?” she asked as he adjusted his pants and turned toward the fire.

When he turned back, his eyes were dancing with the reflection of the flames. He looked like the very devil himself.

“Despite what rumors you might have heard about me, Angel, I am not going to steal your virginity. Even if it is mine for the taking.”

She blinked, her lips parting, that ache between her thighs turning to a pulsing pain that left her as befuddled as his words. “You’re not?”

“No.” He straightened his shirt as he walked around the other side of the bed, toward the door leading to his room. “I won’t steal it.” He paused at the side of the bed, his gaze sweeping over her with such smug arrogance she felt a wave of hatred in its wake. “I will not have to steal it.” His gaze darted up to meet hers. “You’ll give it to me willingly.”

She gasped, opening her mouth to protest.

He leaned over her with a smile and kissed her before she could argue. When he pulled back, his eyes were hard. “Trust me, Angel. When the time is right, you’re going to beg me to take it.”