Page 8 of The Duke’s Ultimatum (Unrelenting Lords #1)

CHAPTER 8

E leanor couldn’t sleep. She tried counting sheep, singing songs, going over dance steps in her head, everything, but nothing allowed her to get the evening’s discussion out of her head. She had one month to find a husband, or else the horrible brute of a duke was going to send her off with the first eligible bachelor he saw.

She groaned into her pillow. This time last week she was enjoying the start of her season, curious about what prospects lay ahead, and now, she was dreading every event coming up. All because that stupid man decided it was time he grace them with his presence and dictate their lives to his whim.

Eleanor sat up, taking stock of the rumpled covers and tossed pillows. It looked like there was a fight in here.

With a sigh, she heaved her sleep-heavy legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Maybe some fresh air will help me sleep.

She threw on her robe and slippers and padded downstairs and into the garden. Through the veranda’s doors, she saw the moon was high and bright, perfectly illuminating the path in front of her.

With careful steps, she moved off of the veranda and into the garden below. She always loved the garden; it was so serene, and quiet. Every flower had its place, and every bush was cut just so that it fit the landscape perfectly. Just as it should be.

She made her way further down the path to one of her favorite benches. It was surrounded by tall hedges that made her feel like she was in the country, even though beyond their walls was a busy London street.

Pulling her robe closer to ward off the evening chill, she turned the corner and came to a complete halt.

There, on her bench, on her favorite bench, was the bane of her existence. The reason why she couldn’t sleep, and why her whole life was flipped on its side, was making himself comfortable in her space of refuge.

She stood still for a moment hiding in the shadows of a nearby bush to take him in. He looked tired and frustrated. His shoulders were slumped as he held his head in his hands. Eleanor had a brief moment of worry. Normally, if she were to see someone in distress, she would tend to them.

Good. I’m glad he’s miserable. Serves him right.

Eleanor huffed out a puff of air and turned.

“A little late for a stroll.” The Duke’s deep voice drifted on the warm summer breeze.

Eleanor cursed her luck. She was tempted to ignore him and continue back inside, but her pride was too great.

She spun back around and raised her chin. “I could say the same for you. Or is it only helpless females that should be locked away in their rooms when the sun goes down?”

A slow, wicked grin widened on the Duke’s face. “I assure you, Eleanor, no one here thinks of you as a helpless female.”

Graynor sat up, stretching his back.

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “Well, considering my livelihood is no longer in my hands and is completely dependent on someone else’s actions, yours to be exact, I would say I am quite helpless.”

The Duke let out a loud laugh and turned towards her. “How original. You had two years, two years,” he emphasized, “to find a suitable match, and you turned down each man. You had control, and you squandered it.”

Eleanor reared back before taking several steps in his direction. “Squandered it? I did not squander it. There are simply no appropriate men in the marriage mart, and you, sir, are a prime example of that.”

The Duke’s eyes darkened as he slowly stood up, causing Eleanor to stop her march towards him. Eleanor dropped her eyes and bit her tongue. This was the second time she had spoken ill of the Duke to his face, and she was horrified by her actions.

Only this time, her mother wasn’t there to act as a buffer.

The apology was on the tip of her tongue when the Duke spoke. “I did my research on this family before coming here.”

Eleanor tilted her head in confusion.

“After all, I am a businessman through and through. I need to know how my newly acquired assets will affect my bottom line.”

Eleanor bristled at the notion of her being an asset of his.

“I’m more than an asset, Your Grace,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Graynor shrugged. “No difference to me. However, what I do find interesting is I assumed you would be the least of my troubles. I figured that honor would go to Sarah. But you…” He took a step closer. “You were supposed to be the good girl, the one who followed the rules. The perfect example of societal grace and representation of the ton. ”

Eleanor swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I am.”

Graynor tilted his head to the side, considering her. “Are you? Not only did you insult my character twice, but you also reacted quite surprisingly the other night in the library.”

Eleanor felt her cheeks heat with the memory.

He was doing it again. She was losing sight of her stance; she was falling for his wicked ways. Eleanor balled her fists at her sides, trying to regain a modicum of the fire she first approached him with.

“My character? What about yours, Your Grace? You are a horrible rake who takes advantage of innocents!” She stood tall, her chin raised in the air. “Your research served you well because I am a well-bred lady of the ton, so if I call into question your character, then your character should be questioned.”

Her rant left her breathless. Her chest heaved in each breath, waiting for his response.

“Innocents.” Graynor came to stand toe to toe with Eleanor. “I may enjoy a certain variety of female companionship, but I have never taken advantage of an innocent woman.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened at the blatant lie. “Then explain your actions in the library.” The adrenaline running through her veins pushed her up onto her toes, her pointer finger jabbing into his chest.

“The widow is far from an innocent,” he countered.

“I wasn’t talking about…” Eleanor’s bravado began to slip when she realized they were talking about two different things.

The realization dawned on Graynor at the same time. “Ah. You’re talking about our interaction and not mine with the widow.” A cruel smile danced along his lips. He leaned in closer, his body consuming her vision.

She met his eyes with what little courage she had left and instantly regretted it. She expected to be met with indifference, but instead he looked… interested? No. That can’t be.

Eleanor gave herself a mental shake. Sure, she had been on the receiving side of interested looks from her suitors, but it was preposterous to think the Duke was looking at her with those intentions.

He leaned in closer. She could smell the mixture of whisky and cigar smoke. Her head swirled with the intoxicating scent and his closeness to her.

Graynor raised an eyebrow as he dipped his head, bringing his mouth closer to hers.

Oh, heavens. Is he about to kiss me? Turn away! Run! Do something, Eleanor!

Eleanor leaned in towards him.

Anything but that!

Eleanor ignored the alarm bells ringing in her head. She kept her eyes locked on him, afraid to move any closer, and waited for the kiss that never came.

Graynor paused his descent and pulled back. With a sigh, he turned. “Teasing is no fun if I’m the only one playing.”

“What?” Her voice was a mere squeak.

He returned to the bench to pick up his coat he shucked off prior and picked it up. “Like I said, I like a variety of female companionships, but I draw the line at forcing one. I like to be on an even playing field withand my partner willing.”

Eleanor stood, shocked. She couldn’t decipher the feelings that bombarded her sensations. Lust, embarrassment, frustration, and confusion all flew throughout her veins making her hot and anxious.

She watched as he walked towards her then past her, dismissing her and their interaction.

Rage won out.

Before he was out of reach, she grabbed his arm and turned him to her. She barely gave him time to register her actions when she launched up onto her toes and kissed him.

Graynor grunted at her attack but quickly dismissed any concerns when he grabbed her waist and held her close to him.

One hand settled around her neck and positioned her head to allow him to take the kiss deeper.

Eleanor’s head began to swim. Her body felt on fire as her hands found purchase in his hair. Graynor groaned as Eleanor tugged at his hair, eliciting her own moan to mix with his.

Her body gave in to her primal instinct to be completely lost to this man. With his one hand still around her neck, his other reached down to cup her bottom, causing Eleanor to squeak with surprise.

She felt a smile form on his lips at her reaction, but it didn’t slow down their kiss. Diving deeper into her mouth, their tongues fought each other for control. It became harder for Eleanor to remain in control of her body. It was completely lost to him. Her feelings, her emotions, her body—they were all there for him to take.

Graynor’s lips broke from her mouth and moved down to leave a trail of hot kisses down her throat. When he reached the base of her throat, he found a sweet spot right where her neck met her shoulder. He sucked, causing her to moan into the night.

Hearing her own moan, Eleanor opened her eyes. The haze of lust began to dissipate as she realized what she was doing. Horrified, Eleanor pushed Graynor away.

“What is wrong?” Graynor’s eyes were glassy with lust, his shoulders heaving from his heavy breathing. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

The Duke genuinely looked concerned over her safety.

But her words were lost to her embarrassment. Once again, she was mesmerized by this man, and it led her to doing things she never would have considered doing.

Eleanor could only shake her head as she pushed past him to run back to the safety of her bedroom.

Whatever sorcery this man had over her, she had to figure out a way to protect herself from it, or she would find herself ruined and chained to the one man in the ton she wanted nothing to do with.

Derek stood watching Eleanor run from him. It took him a few moments to slow down his breathing. Her form finally disappeared into the darkness of the veranda, and he sat down on the bench.

Once again, he sat with his head in his hands. Thank God this bloody day is over.

It wasn’t bad enough that he had to deal with three women who he barely knew, but the actress of his choice didn’t satiate his appetite.

In fact, it wasn’t until a certain woman infiltrated his peace that he felt some semblance of peace.

Derek laughed. Peace. Nothing about Eleanor was peaceful. It was like she was designed to interfere with his plans with one haughty word after another. He’d only been here a few weeks, yet every interaction with the scamp has left him frustrated and not only mentally.

Derek stretched out his long legs and looked up into the sky. He knew meddling with her would end disastrously for both of them, but there was just something about her that compelled him to needle her.

Maybe it was because she represented everything he hated about the ton . Sophistication, elitism, breeding—those were the only things these people truly cared about. Of course, they all fawned over his business sense, but it was because of the wealth he accrued, not because he was intelligent, hardworking, and tenacious. No one here cared about those attributes. God forbid any one of them get their hands dirty.

Derek cracked his neck. He was getting himself worked up again. He stood back up and picked up his overcoat.

One thing was for sure—she may be fun to play with, but Lady Eleanor was not his toy. He needed to watch himself with her, or else he’d be finding himself standing opposite of her at the end of an aisle.