Page 10 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction (Dukes of Passion #3)
CHAPTER 10
T he footsteps faded into silence. Leo’s hand slowly fell away from Marina’s mouth, but he made no move to increase the distance between them.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she felt his breath warm against her temple.
“That was close,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with lingering desire.
Marina swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. The thrill of nearly being caught only heightened her awareness of his body pressed against hers, solid and warm in the shadows.
“Too close. This was madness.”
“Perhaps.” His fingers traced the curve of her cheek, sliding down to tilt her chin upward. “But I’m finding it difficult to regret.”
The moonlight streaming through the windows illuminated his features—the sharp angle of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, Marina allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to surrender to this reckless attraction between them, to let him claim her completely.
“I should return to the ballroom,” she whispered though she made no move to leave. “They’ll notice my absence.”
“Let them notice.” His thumb brushed across her lower lip. “Stay with me.”
The temptation was overwhelming. His kiss had awakened something within her—a hunger she’d barely acknowledged even to herself. But despite the desire pulsing through her veins, a stubborn voice of reason persisted.
This man was determined to stop her writing, to take away the one thing that had given her independence after years of submission to a cold, uncaring husband.
“I can’t.” Marina placed her palms against his chest and gently pushed him away. “This, whatever this is between us, it doesn’t change anything. I still need to write my stories.”
Leo stepped back, the loss of his warmth immediate. His expression hardened. “Even if they’re destroying my reputation?”
“Is that truly what concerns you? Your reputation?” She straightened her gown, grateful for the shadows that concealed her flushed cheeks. “From what I hear, you have cultivated quite the scandalous name for yourself already.”
“What you hear.” His laugh held no humor. “From the whispers of discarded lovers and envious fools, no doubt. Tell me, Lady Asquith, have you ever considered there might be more to the story than what the gossips share?”
A pang of guilt struck her. She’d used him for her own gain without ever considering the man behind the rakish persona.
“I write what sells,” she said defensively. “And the ton is eager for tales of the mysterious Duke of Blackmere.”
“So eager they’ve overlooked the fact that they’re destroying a man’s name?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “They read about my supposed exploits and never once wonder if there might be consequences beyond their titillation?”
Marina remained silent. What could she say? That she’d given those consequences barely a thought when the alternative was giving up her independence?
He moved toward the door. “Return to the ballroom before you’re missed. Wait five minutes after I leave.”
“Leo—” The use of his given name slipped out before she could stop it.
He paused, his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, she thought he might turn back, might give her a chance to… what? Apologize? Explain?
He merely inclined his head.
“Good evening, Lady Asquith.”
The door closed softly behind him, leaving Marina alone in the moonlit library, her lips still tingling from his kiss and her mind in turmoil.
“You seem distracted this morning,” Caroline observed as they strolled through the park the following day. “I haven’t seen you this pensive since your husband’s funeral.”
Marina sighed, adjusting her parasol to shield her eyes from the bright morning sun. She hadn’t slept well, her dreams haunted by hazel eyes and demanding lips. “I’m fine, just tired. The ball ended rather late.”
Caroline cast her a skeptical glance. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your mysterious disappearance halfway through the evening? Harold was concerned when he couldn’t find you for the quadrille.”
“I needed some air,” Marina replied automatically. “The ballroom was stifling.”
“Hmm.” Caroline’s expression made it clear she wasn’t convinced. “And did you find this ‘air’ in the company of a certain duke, perhaps?”
Heat crawled up Marina’s neck. “Caroline!”
“Oh, come now. I saw the way you looked at each other during that waltz.” Her friend’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Like you were the only two people in the room.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Marina looked away, unable to meet her friend’s knowing gaze. “He was merely… warning me again about the stories.”
“With his eyes? How innovative of him.” Caroline laughed, linking her arm through Marina’s. “You can deny it all you wish, but something has changed between you two.”
Marina couldn’t argue with that. Something had indeed changed. The kiss they’d shared had transformed the antagonism between them into something far more dangerous. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the heat of his mouth against hers, the firm pressure of his body pinning her to the bookshelf.
“Even if it has,” she said quietly, “it doesn’t matter. I can’t stop writing the stories, Caroline. They’re my only source of income.”
“Are they?” Caroline’s voice softened. “Or have they become something more? A way to experience the passion you write about, perhaps?”
Marina faltered in her step. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” Caroline squeezed her arm gently. “You’ve never spoken much about your marriage to Henry, but I gathered it was… less than fulfilling.”
Marina’s throat tightened. Less than fulfilling hardly began to describe the cold emptiness of her marriage bed. Henry had visited her chambers infrequently, and when he did, it was with clinical efficiency and little regard for her pleasure. She’d come to believe that the passionate encounters she read about in novels were mere fantasy—until Leo’s kiss had proven otherwise.
“The Duke is arrogant, demanding, and entirely too used to getting his way,” Marina said, trying to convince herself as much as Caroline. “Besides, he sees me as nothing more than an obstacle to be overcome.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s true,” Caroline mused. “The way he looked at you last night… that was not the gaze of a man viewing an obstacle.”
Before Marina could respond, a familiar carriage pulled alongside them. The Blackmere crest gleamed on the door, causing Marina’s heart to stumble in her chest.
“Lady Clarkshire.” Leo greeted Caroline with a polite nod as he stepped down from the carriage. “Lady Asquith.” His eyes lingered on Marina, his expression unreadable. “May I join you for a moment? I wish to discuss a matter with Lady Asquith.”
Caroline’s eyes danced between them. “Of course, Your Grace. I just remembered an errand I must run. Marina, shall I meet you back here in half an hour?”
Before Marina could protest, Caroline was already walking away, throwing a mischievous smile over her shoulder.
“Traitor,” Marina muttered under her breath.
“Your friend seems eager to leave us alone.” Leo offered his arm. “Shall we?”
Marina hesitated then placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. They walked in silence for several minutes, the morning bustle of the park a stark contrast to the tension between them.
“Perhaps we should find somewhere more private,” he suggested, nodding toward a stone bench partially hidden by flowering shrubs. “The ton is always eager for gossip, and a duke and widow in earnest conversation would feed their tongues.”
Marina followed him to the sheltered spot, appreciating his consideration for her reputation despite the tension still lingering between them.
“I have been thinking about our conversation last night,” Leo finally said. “About your stories.”
Marina stiffened. “If you have come to demand once again that I stop writing?—”
“I have not.” He guided her toward a more secluded path bordered by flowering shrubs. “At least, not in the way you might expect.”
Curiosity overtook her wariness. “What do you mean?”
Leo stopped, turning to face her fully. “You claim you cannot stop writing because you need the income. What if I were to offer you an alternative?”
Marina’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of alternative?”
“A financial arrangement.” His gaze never left hers. “I will provide you with an amount equal to, or greater than, what you receive from Lupton. In return, you will cease writing stories featuring a character that resembles me.”
Marina blinked, taken aback by the unexpected proposal. “You wish to… pay me? To stop writing?”
“Think of it as a commission if you prefer. I am merely redirecting your talents away from my personal life.”
The offer was tempting—more than tempting. To be free of Lupton’s demands and meager payments, to never again fear being discovered as the scandalous authoress… and yet, something about the arrangement felt wrong.
“And what would you expect in return, besides my silence?” She held his gaze, searching for any hint of ulterior motive. “Surely not just the cessation of my stories.”
Leo’s jaw tightened. “What exactly are you suggesting, Lady Asquith?”
“I am suggesting that men like you do not offer financial support without expecting something in return.” The memory of his kiss burned between them. “Something beyond a simple business arrangement.”
“Men like me,” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “You believe you know me so well, don’t you? Through whispered gossip and secondhand accounts.” He stepped closer, and Marina forced herself to stand her ground. “Let me assure you, Lady Asquith, if I wanted your body, I would not resort to financial coercion to obtain it.”
Marina’s cheeks blazed. “I didn’t?—”
“You meant exactly that.” His eyes glittered with a mixture of anger and something darker, more primal. “And you’re right to be wary. But in this instance, your suspicions are unfounded. I want nothing from you but your agreement to stop dragging my name through the mud of the ton’s drawing rooms.”
Shame washed over her. She had misjudged him, jumping to the worst conclusion based on her own prejudices.
“I apologize,” she said quietly. “That was unfair of me.” She hesitated, then continued, “And I should apologize for my stories as well. I never considered how they might affect your reputation or your business affairs. When I began writing them, I never imagined they would affect your life in such a way.”
Something in his expression softened. “Perhaps we have both been too quick to judge.”
Marina looked away, her thoughts in turmoil. The offer was generous—more than generous. It would solve her financial troubles while allowing her to maintain her independence. And yet…
“I can’t accept,” she said finally.
“Why not?” Genuine confusion crossed his face. “It solves both our problems.”
How could she explain that her stories had become more than a mere source of income? They were her voice, her passion poured onto the page. To accept his money would make her beholden to him, dependent on his goodwill—just as she’d been dependent on Henry, always fearful of displeasing him.
“Because I would still be at someone else’s mercy,” she answered honestly. “I would be trading Lupton’s control for yours.”
Leo’s expression darkened. “You truly believe I would use this arrangement to control you?”
“I believe that the moment I displeased you, you could withdraw your support, leaving me with nothing. Again.” Marina squared her shoulders. “I have spent the past year rebuilding my life after being left destitute by my husband’s debts and his heir’s cruelty. I won’t put myself in that position of vulnerability again.”
Leo studied her for a long moment, his gaze penetrating. “You’re not what I expected, Marina Tate.”
The use of her maiden name startled her. Few people remembered it now that she was better known as Lady Asquith.
“How did you?—”
“I make it my business to know those who make trouble for me.” A hint of a smile touched his lips. “Noah discovered that your father was squire of a small estate in Derbyshire. You were married to Asquith at nineteen, widowed at twenty-one, and left with barely enough to maintain a modest townhouse on Mount Street.”
Marina shivered, unsettled by how thoroughly he’d investigated her life. “Your point being?”
“My point is that I understand your desire for independence far better than you might think.” He took her gloved hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. “But there must be a solution that satisfies us both.”
The earnestness in his voice caught her off guard. Gone was the intimidating duke who had threatened her in the carriage, replaced by a man who seemed genuinely interested in finding a compromise.
“Perhaps,” Marina conceded, “though I’m not certain what that might be.”
Leo released her hand, his expression thoughtful. “We both need time to consider the matter. In the meantime…” He hesitated. “I would ask a favor.”
Marina raised an eyebrow, instantly wary. “What sort of favor?”
“Write a new character,” he said simply. “Create a hero who bears no resemblance to me—different appearance, different history, different… preferences.” The last word carried a hint of heat that made Marina’s pulse quicken. “Let your next story be truly fiction.”
The request seemed reasonable enough. Yet something in his expression—a certain vulnerability beneath the commanding exterior—made her suspect there was more at stake than mere reputation.
“And if I do? What then?”
“Then we’ll talk again,” he promised. “About a more permanent solution to our impasse.”
Marina studied him, trying to discern his true intentions. There was something he wasn’t telling her, some deeper reason behind his demand that she stop writing about him. But his offer seemed sincere, and what did she have to lose by trying?
“And if I refuse?” Marina asked, watching his reaction carefully.
“Then we remain at an impasse.” His expression tightened subtly. “And I will need to explore other options to protect my reputation.”
Marina studied him, trying to discern his true intentions.
There was something he wasn’t telling her, some deeper reason behind his demand that she stop writing about him. The request seemed reasonable on its surface, yet she hesitated to commit herself.
“I will consider it,” she said finally. “But I can make no promises, Your Grace. My livelihood depends on these stories.”
Disappointment flickered across his features though he masked it quickly. “I understand. All I ask is that you give the matter serious thought.”
He bowed over her hand, his lips brushing her knuckles in a gesture that sent warmth spiraling through her. “Until we meet again, Lady Asquith.”