Page 24 of The Untamed Duke (The Secret Crusaders #3)

BLACKMAILING THE DUKE 1

T hank you for reading The Untamed Duke. I hope you enjoyed their romantic world.

Here’s an exclusive look of Blackmailing the Duke , about a powerful hero with secrets and the woman who blackmails him. Only he blackmails her instead:

Chapter One

The best strategy for avoiding a relentless duke is:

1. Stand perfectly still and pretend to be a potted plant.

Complication: Won’t work if the duke possesses exceedingly high intelligence, which Michael Colborne, the Duke of Crawford, most assuredly does.

2. Take refuge in the ladies’ retiring room.

Complication: Your parents will notice your absence and deliver you straight to the duke.

3. Venture into the gardens and enjoy the natural beauty.

Complication: If the duke finds you alone, he may try to kiss you.

Second complication: If you find the duke alone, you may try to kiss him.

Third complication: Can’t stop thinking about kissing the duke.

Fourth complication: The duke really does have the most luscious lips.

Fifth complication: Stop!

Well, those noises were interesting.

Not in an “I’m a lady so the only things that interest me are painting and the weather” sort of way but in an “I’m a lady so I shouldn’t even know what those sounds mean” way. Giggles, gasps and squeals waltzed on the cool night breeze, swirling in the shadowy garden of the Rawlings ball. They were loud and interesting, perhaps even educational to an innocent such as Lady Hannah Breckenridge, daughter of the Duke of Chartstill. Yet she wasn’t here for them, but rather a man of her own.

Michael Colborne, the Duke of Crawford.

Of course, he wasn’t really hers, although he possessed the rather annoying opinion she was his. And also, she wasn’t here to meet him, but rather to avoid that exact situation, lest it lead to such giggles, gasps and squeals currently filling the garden. Not that they’d ever performed the activities to elicit such noises, and of course she hadn’t imagined (repeatedly, as it were) doing such things, but still. One never knows what could happen when dealing with a powerful – and determined – lord.

“It’s dangerous to be here alone.”

The world stilled. Or at least her world did, at the lightly whispered words, their levity belied by the formidable man who uttered them. The man who infiltrated the garden towered inches over six feet, yet with none of the lankiness such height could bring. No, this man was pure power, his chest broad and firm, his strength unhidden by the crisp black coat and the breeches that outlined sturdy legs. His eyes were a piercing green, his hair golden. As he stepped into the clearing, her heart paused to study him, before resuming at a swift pace.

“I know you’re here.”

How? She just managed to keep the word confined to her mind. She’d been so careful this time, waiting until he was surrounded by a dozen eager ladies, all thrusting bosoms and other assorted body parts, as they vied for attention from the most desirable duke. A commanding, handsome and rich lord was a prize indeed.

If she ever considered marrying, he would be most tempting.

“One day you’re going to venture too far, Lady Hannah.” The words were closer now, louder. “Then you’ll have to accept the consequences.”

An unbidden shiver seized her, as she slunk back in the tiny alcove. Tall, spindly bushes clutched at her, their green leaves dotted with brilliant fuchsia flowers. The heavy scent of roses perfumed the air, and the low cadence of a brook chimed in the background, accompanied by the beat of tiny creatures pattering on the dewy ground.

“Are you certain you do not wish to emerge? You cannot hide forever.”

She could certainly try.

Yet even as she slunk lower in her woodsy nest, his smooth baritone pulled at her, compelling her to listen to its honeyed undertones, to surrender to the power he wielded.

It took all her strength to remain still.

Footsteps thudded, yet this time away from her, waning crunches and tempered rustling signaling her hunter’s departure. Of course, it could be a trick, and Michael could lunge back the moment she appeared. No, she would stay, at least for a little while. A minute passed…

“I’ve got you.”

She gasped.

“Come here, little thing.” The barely audible whisper promised untold amusement. “You are mine.”

Who did he think he was to assert ownership over her? Cloaked in indignation, steeled by anger, she stood…

And faced portly Lord Bartleby tweaking the bottom of a very shapely, widely grinning maid.

The world sped into motion, as if making up for stilling earlier. Hannah lunged back as the maid squealed, grasping her not-so-mysteriously-undone ribbons and immediately disappearing into the darkness. The stench of brandy and other unpleasant body odors filled the clearing as Bartleby clutched his own undone pants, emulating a fish who had inexplicably found himself in the middle of the desert. “Lady Hannah… I… did you… oh dear.” He wiped himself with a delicate cloth, embroidered with the initials of his wife .

Hannah folded her arms across her chest.

The dallying lord turned as vibrant as the roses around them. “Yes, well, an unfortunate thing that.” He attempted to fasten his clothes. Failed. “Of course what you saw, well, you didn’t really see anything, did you? It’s very important you didn’t see anything, because as you know, my wife’s father has a great amount of power, but a rather unfortunate temper. He told me if there was one more public scandal, he’d cut off–” He reddened. “Never mind. Perhaps I can do something to help you forget.”

This was almost worse than facing Michael. As much as Bartleby deserved condemnation for his philandering ways, she would not spread gossip, especially since his indiscretions were not nearly as hidden as he liked to believe. Indeed, Lady Bartleby was far better at hiding her trysts. “That won’t be necess–”

“What about the orphanages you’re always mentioning? There’s an important vote coming up. If I vote for that, and perhaps make a sizeable contribution to the orphans’ fund at the synagogue, would that be enough to make you forget?”

Do not squeal. Do not shriek. Do not jump on the bench and yell hooray.

Lord Bartleby may be lecherous, but he commanded vast wealth, largely due to his wife and the father-in-law who threatened to cut off his– Now he offered a much-needed vote for their cause and a donation that could put food in empty little tummies?

How could she refuse?

Yet still, he had to know womanizing was unacceptable. She fashioned her most stern expression. “What you did was unseemly, inappropriate and unfair to both your wife and the maid.”

He paled, nodded.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yet I suppose if you are willing to make up for it by supporting worthy causes, I could look the other way. The synagogue has started a new fund to provide nutritious food for orphans.”

“I’m happy to donate.” He held out both hands. “Helping people is my favorite activity.”

No doubt. “And–” She lifted a finger. “You will change your actions henceforth.”

“Of course.” He bobbed his head, making a promise he would likely break this very night. “Thank you, my lady. I shall be most generous.” Without a word more, he grasped what remained of his pride – and his pants – and fled back to the house.

She grinned like a drunk who discovered an ocean of brandy. What fortune! With all the good those funds could accomplish–

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?”

Oh. Dear.

“A massive amount, I’d say.”

Stay calm. Be strong. You are a fierce woman. Hannah lifted her chin, steeled her gaze and looked straight at Michael’s… chest.

Blazes!

Why did the man have to be such a giant? She inclined her head up, up, up until her neck ached and the world tilted. Then, she did what any woman would do:

Enjoyed the view.

A man this domineering had no right to be so gorgeous. Yet fate had sculpted a masterpiece, sensual features of high cheekbones, sultry lips and eyes the color of emeralds. His hair was golden and silky, an edge longer than fashionable, showing he would not be constrained by society’s rules. Defined by muscle, shaped by strength, he was immense, unhidden by a crisp suit that bespoke untold wealth. A subtle mix of oak and brandy swirled, drawing her closer, compelling her toward the source of power.

What did he do to her?

Whatever it was, she must resist. “I am not in trouble.”

“Indeed?” He took a step around her, ensnaring her in his gaze. “Are you certain of that?”

Not even a sliver. Yet she did not answer to anyone. “I go where I please.”

“I doubt your father would agree with that.” His boots crunched on brittle leaves, as he continued his scrutiny, edging closer with every movement. “Your father would be furious if he discovered the risks you take. What should the consequences be for putting yourself in danger?” Strength emboldened the challenging words. This man would seize all, if she let him.

Yet she was powerful in her own right. “There are no consequences because I have done nothing wrong. You cannot assert authority you do not have.”

“I understand you wish to hide from me. When will you realize it won’t work?” He lowered his gaze. “You should not be in the gardens alone. What if a man with questionable motives came upon you?”

“Your motives are questionable,” she snapped. Yet it wasn’t quite true, at least not in the traditional sense. He didn’t want to ruin her, or even take advantage of her.

He simply wanted to marry her.

He couldn’t. She had a plan, and it did not include a powerful duke. She would leave society, with its unfair rules and outrageous dictates, and explore the world. The situation for orphans was dire in so many countries. Children were left to fend on their own, abused, exploited or worse . In England, a woman had only so much power, and once she married, she surrendered what little freedom society gifted her. In her travels, she could help children, finding homes and giving them what they deserved: a full belly, a warm bed and love . Her passion was why she’d put aside her pin money, until the day she could board a boat and discover a world that would only be hers.

She just had to convince her father, Michael and the ton she belonged to no one but herself.

Had Michael seen her with Bartleby? It would be disaster if he overheard her negotiating with the cheating lord. If the overprotective man discovered her schemes, he’d seize total control. “If I wish to go for a stroll in the gardens, that is my choice, and mine alone. If I’d been hiding from you, I would have succeeded.”

He gave her a pointed look, and heat flooded her. Most successful indeed. She pressed forward. “Why don’t you return to the ball? When I left, you seemed well-occupied with the entire female population of London.” She cringed. Why had she mentioned his never-ending circle of admirers?

His amusement deepened. “So you noticed?”

“I did not.”

“But you just said–”

“Clearly you are confusing yourself.” She tapped her foot on the ground. “Yet if I had noticed, which I didn’t, I would have seen five hundred ladies listening to your every word, pressing forward their amply-shaped–” She clamped her mouth shut.

His lips twitched. “Their amply-shaped…”

“You know very well what amply-shaped feature to which I am referring.”

“You are mistaken, but if I did, I would say I wasn’t at all distracted by amply-shaped features. I notice only one lady, and although she is very amply shaped, what resides inside is far more alluring.”

Sweat broke out under amply-shaped features. “You are the most eligible bachelor in the ton , pursued by endless debutantes, matchmaking mamas and eager fathers with only slightly subtler measures. Why do you chase me?”

For a moment, his gaze turned pensive. “I can’t seem to help myself.” He cleared his throat. “Which is why I cannot allow you to delve into peril. Do you understand how dangerous a deserted garden is? Do you know what could have happened?”

More than she cared to imagine. Many lords sought her dowry and familial connections, and more than a few would go to unscrupulous measures to secure her hand. Getting caught in a scandal to force a betrothal would be disastrous, no matter the suitor.

Michael’s power could not be underestimated. “There are no devious lords here. Indeed, there is nothing more dangerous than a rose’s thorns.”

“Thorns can be quite dangerous,” he murmured. “Although I’m more concerned about the human variety. The practice of blackmailing lords can be quite dangerous.”

He had heard. “My private conversations are none of your business. And I did not blackmail Lord Bartleby.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You agreed to stay quiet about his tryst if he voted for the right causes. What do you call that?”

“A mutually beneficial agreement,” she clarified, as his other eyebrow joined it. “He offered to donate to my orphans’ fund. Was I supposed to say no?”

“Your orphans’ fund?”

Oops. “Did I say my fund?” She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t quite twist the right way. “I meant the general orphans’ fund, in which we all partake, the activities of a typical lady. Which is what I am, of course. A typical lady.”

Perfect. Now she sounded quite mad.

He shook his head firmly. “You are anything but a typical lady.”

Now that stung.

It shouldn’t have, flippant words from a man whose opinions shouldn’t matter. Yet somehow it mattered he thought her less than the typical lady.

“And that is a very good thing.”

She looked up sharply. His voice was soft, his gaze almost tender. “It is?” Somehow her voice had turned breathless, and the air seemed sweeter. His eyes were brighter, and his lips…

“A very good thing.” The words grazed her skin, casting Goose bumps. “Few are as spirited, brave or clever as you.”

She fluttered suddenly heavy eyelashes, fought to separate herself from the only man with the power to unbalance her. Suitors often waxed poetic, flattery easily vanquished by the sturdy wall she’d erected around her heart. Yet somehow the duke found cracks in the formidable shield.

The world turned dangerous. Not from fear, but the sort of danger that drew one in, that made one giddy and excited and scared all at the same time.

No. She must fight. This man was stronger than her other suitors, literally and figuratively, smarter and cleverer. “I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” He edged so close she would brush against him with an inch’s movement. “You are an alluring woman.” Closer still. “Predators lurk everywhere, just waiting for unsuspecting prey.”

Her breath hitched. “I am alluring because of my family.”

“Oh no.” He reached out with the pad of his finger, traced a feather soft touch down her chin. “Your allure is entirely your own.”

Her heart stumbled. She righted it, righted herself. Whatever spell he was casting, she had to resist. “Shouldn’t you be worried, as well?”

“What have I to fear?” Amusement swirled. “Does someone chase me?”

Just about every eligible lady in England. He was lauded for so many reasons, and only some of them involved his position and wealth. With handsome features, a strapping build and an enticing combination of confidence and charm, ladies found him irresistible. “Someone could attack you.”

Now he laughed. It was warm, smooth and all-too-alluring. “Do you not think I could defend myself?” He stood to his full towering height, crossed muscle-bound arms over his expansive chest. Indeed, this man was not in danger.

He was danger.

She clutched her skirts. “I’ll admit it’s unlikely someone will attack you from the rosebushes, but what of a different type of peril? Lords are not alone in shackling unsuspecting prey. Many men are trapped into marriage by a wily lady and their own moral code.”

He should be worried, horrified even. Yet not the slightest edge of dismay marred his expression. “I will control the situation.”

Goodness, did he want to get trapped? She fisted her hands. “You do not control me.”

“This is about more than control.” His authority belied every word. “You do not acknowledge your own feelings. There is something between us.”

Fiery emotion swirled, anger and frustration, need and desire, temptation defined. An invisible force pulled at her, urging her closer, to surrender to the power he wielded. “I feel nothing,” she lied. “I could kiss you right now, and still feel nothing.”

What had she said?

Certainly not the truth. By his fierce expression, he knew. “I’d like to see you try.”

She should not consider it a challenge.

Should not think of it as an invitation.

Should not “try.”

She pressed her lips to his.

One second. That was the time he allowed before he took control of the kiss – and her. Firm lips caressed and massaged, tasted and plundered, lightly and then with urgency. He pulled her near, one hand behind her back, the other tangled in her hair, as he explored. She parted her lips…

Then, he left .

Her heart galloped, her breath came in shallow pants, as the world tilted this way and that. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean– I shouldn’t have– I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I do.” His eyes shone brilliant in the moonlight. “You feel the same connection as I do.”

Her little remaining control threatened to shatter. “I was simply proving you were not in control.”

“Perhaps you are not entirely incorrect.” It was a rare admittance, yet it did nothing to diminish his strength. He was even more massive as he drew himself up, as he became the predator he claimed to be. If she let him, he’d devour her. And if they were seen, the matrimonial web would ensnare them both, shattering any future she had planned.

Even if she had the means to escape England, she could never leave her family in ruin. Every moment they were together brought new danger. “I must return immediately. I cannot risk being seen with you.”

His disappointment was stark. “Of course. We will return separately. No one will know we were together.” A stiff breeze blew, blowing a lock of hair in her face. Before she could swipe it, he tucked it behind her ear. “Be careful,” he murmured. “One day you will challenge the wrong man, and then you will have to accept the consequences.”

The wind moaned through the trees, yet she held her head high as she turned away from him. “I will do as I wish.”

“Perhaps.” The breeze whispered his last words. “Yet you won’t always escape.”

“Do you wish to marry my daughter or not?”

Surprise was not a common emotion for Michael, a fortunate matter for a man in his position. Yet now it arrived, first in copious amounts, and then in more measured waves, as the Duke of Chartstill, Hannah’s father, glared at him.

Michael held his silence as he scraped the door closed, sequestering them in the spacious room. The emerald-hued chamber contained a sitting area of two grand chairs, a mahogany table with inlaid jewels and a generously stocked sideboard. Fresh cakes and pastries sweetened the air, while a crackling fire warmed it. The chamber was one of many opened for guests.

Michael returned to the grey-haired duke and accepted the generously filled glass. He regarded the stalwart lord, who was still fit and tall, strong like his daughter.

“Well, my boy, do you plan to offer or not? As you know, Hannah has many suitors, and I’m eager to see her wed. If only my wife would allow me to use a matchmaker. The one at the temple says she could have Hannah married within the week.”

Must he employ a matchmaker to secure his bride? And if the matchmaker chose someone else…

“Unfortunately, my wife is insistent, and I tend to indulge her demands, at least for a time.” The duke waved his hand. “Thus, I am allowing Hannah to choose, or as she believes, not to choose at all.”

Michael relaxed, albeit slightly. At least he had time. He would be wedded to Hannah before the duke mentioned matchmaking again.

“I must ensure my daughter’s safety.” Chartstill stroked his beard. “Hannah has a tendency to put herself in precarious situations.”

He’d noticed. She was too clever by half, and just as brave, with the unwavering assumption she could overcome any and all threats. She’d induced fear more than once with her schemes. He would always protect her, yet it would be far easier once they were wed.

Her father did not know that. “If you are not interested, I can accept one of the other suito–”

“I am most interested.”

He was not one to show his hand, however many aces it contained, yet he could scarce allow Chartstill to accept an offer before he made his. Of course, he hoped to gain Lady Hannah’s acceptance first, an opinion clearly not shared by her now widely grinning father.

“That’s what I thought.” Chartstill finished the drink in one gulp, slammed it on the table with a heavy thud. “You’ll be good for her, not like some of those weaklings who seek only her dowry. You’re strong enough to ensure her care.” He inclined his head. “There’s more to you than obvious, isn’t there?”

That was true, yet not something he would discuss. Of course, if Hannah realized her father was discussing her future like negotiating a business deal, she’d be livid. “It has been my intention to offer, yet I was hoping to secure her favor first.”

“My daughter adores you.”

Michael just managed not to choke out a very fine brandy. “I’m sorry?”

“My daughter,” Chartstill said gruffly. “She thinks you are delightful.”

Michael dropped his glass to the table, where it wobbled precariously before settling. “With all due respect, Duke, I’m not certain she even likes me.”

“Of course, she likes you.” Chartstill pointed a finger encircled by a heavy gold signet ring. “Her feelings are quite obvious.”

Indeed, they were, yet it seemed like she would rather throw him in a mud pit than bask in his company. Of course, there was that kiss… “Our past interactions have not exactly reflected delight. There was the time we went for ices, and she asked if she could choose my flavor.”

“I see no problem.” Chartstill shrugged. “If anything, it shows her consideration.”

“She chose a combination of parmesan, rye bread and burnt filbert.”

Chartstill chuckled. “How creative. Did you know the London Society News reported that flavor as a new trend?”

“I heard,” Michael replied dryly. “Another time we took turns telling the story of a prince and princess. When it was her turn, she claimed the prince’s teeth fell out, and the princess embarked on a journey to conquer the world.”

Chartstill’s amusement faded. “Do you realize she plans exactly that?”

Michael froze. “I’m sorry?”

“As soon as she comes of age, Hannah plans to use the pin money she’s hidden away and spend it on passage from London.” The duke stepped forward, his voice somber. “She intends to travel alone.”

“That’s out of the question,” Michael snapped. Hannah could not disappear.

He would always find her.

How had he not known about this? No doubt, she purposely avoided the subject, aware he’d make every effort to stop her. “Anything could happen to a lady on her own. She could get lost, kidnapped or worse. Some people just disappear.” The sharp edge of fear sliced his chest, and even Chartstill paled. “I won’t allow it.”

He exhaled slowly. He must remain calm and logical to plot his next move. “She is close to you, is she not?”

For a moment, the older man softened. In the next, he cleared his throat, nodded curtly. “She claims she will visit, yet with the foreign places she seeks, it’s unlikely she’d return soon.” He hardened. “If at all.”

Every. Muscle. Clenched.

“If she marries, her husband can stop her from undertaking such a dangerous adventure. She thinks she can’t do her charitable work for orphans from England, but that isn’t true.” The older lord leaned forward. “I’ve seen you two together. There’s something between you.”

Yes, there was. From the day he’d met the spirited woman, Michael could imagine no other woman as his duchess. She was kindness epitomized, and he wanted to join her, both in supporting her cause and in union. He’d pledged it that very night, considered offering for her immediately. Yet aggressive pursuits were precarious with independent women such as Hannah, thus he’d crafted a slow courtship. He never thought it would take this long, and he certainly never imagined she’d eschew marriage altogether.

The duke scrutinized him. “By whatever methods necessary, I will ensure her care.”

So would he, yet he could scarce lock her in her chambers. “What if she refuses my suit? She must agree to a marriage.”

“Do not worry.” The duke stood taller. “While I prefer her acquiescence, I will ensure she stands for her vows.”

Goodness, the man was willing to coerce his own daughter? Yet it was for her well-being, potentially her life. Would he do any different? “If we do this, I need time to further my suit.”

The duke frowned. “I do not have the luxury of time. In weeks, Hannah comes of age, and it will be far more difficult to stop her. We are planning a huge ball for her birthday. I plan to make a betrothal announcement on that date.” He focused his gaze. “With you, or another man.”

It would be him. He stepped forward. “It is vital she believes the decision is hers. If I convince her before you force her hand, our agreement can remain secret.”

“It would be far easier if she accepted.” Chartstill studied him. “All right. I can spare a small amount of time. Yet I need an answer from you now, Crawford. Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

Hannah would be livid. Furious. Shocked, surprised and outraged at her future being decided without her. Yet she wouldn’t have a choice, for he had made his. “I’d like to make an offer…”