Page 16 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 16

“ T hree days of marriage and you’re already fleeing to your club?” Gregory’s amused voice cut through the quietude of White’s morning room. “I must say, married life doesn’t seem to agree with you.”

“I am not fleeing anything.” Dorian didn’t look up from his brandy, though the crystal decanter had long since lost its appeal. “I have business in London.”

“Ah yes, business.” Gregory settled into the leather chair opposite him. “The same business that has had you sneaking around London like a common thief these past months? Though I must say, it’s considerably more dangerous now that you have a duchess to answer to.”

Dorian’s glare could have frozen the Thames. “I do not answer to anyone.”

“No?” Gregory’s smile was knowing. “Then why are you scowling into perfectly good brandy instead of enjoying your honeymoon?”

“If you’ve nothing better to do than torment me?—”

“You’re going to see her again, aren’t you?” Gregory’s voice dropped, all traces of humor gone. “Even after I warned you about Treyfield’s men watching your movements?”

Dorian’s slight nod was barely perceptible.

“For God’s sake, man.” Gregory leaned forward. “You’re a married man now, not some rakehell bachelor. If you’re seen visiting?—”

“I am careful.” Dorian’s voice held an edge. “And I have responsibilities that predate my marriage.”

“Responsibilities that could ruin your marriage if you’re not cautious.” Gregory studied his friend’s face. “Does your Duchess know anything about your… predating obligations?”

“No.” The word came out clipped. “And she won’t.”

“You can’t keep secrets from your wife forever, Dorian. Particularly not one as clever as Lady Alice.”

“I can try.”

“She deserves better than lies.” Gregory’s voice softened. “You must see that.”

“What she deserves,” Dorian bit out, “is irrelevant. I made a promise.”

“To Lawrence, yes. We all know how seriously you take your promises.” Gregory signaled for his own drink. “But you’ve made new ones now. Standing before God and witnesses, if I recall correctly.”

Dorian’s hand tightened around his glass. “It is a marriage of convenience.”

“Is it?” Gregory’s knowing look grated on his nerves. “Because I distinctly remember watching you kiss her like a drowning man. Several times, in fact.”

“Physical attraction is hardly?—”

“The way you look at her when you think no one’s watching? The way you keep finding excuses to touch her? The fact that you’re sitting here, trying to convince yourself that she means nothing while simultaneously looking like you want to murder me for suggesting otherwise?”

“It is not that simple. Are you finished?”

“Not nearly.” Gregory accepted his brandy from the server. “You have already admitted you care for her. What I am curious about is why you are suddenly trying to convince yourself otherwise.”

“Your curiosity is showing remarkable restraint.”

“If this is truly just a marriage of convenience,” Gregory continued as though Dorian hadn’t spoken, “why do you look so bloody miserable about leaving her alone at Ashthorne House?”

The question hit closer to home than Dorian cared to admit. He had been unsettled by how empty his chambers had felt without knowing that Alice was just beyond that connecting door.

“I do not have time for this.” He stood up abruptly. “Some of us have actual obligations to attend to.”

“Running away again?” Gregory’s voice followed him. “You know, for someone so determined to keep his distance from his wife, you’re doing a remarkable impression of a man falling in?—”

“Do not.” Dorian’s voice could have cut glass. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“As you wish.” But Gregory’s smile suggested that he’d made his point. “Give my regards to your obligations.”

Dorian strode out without responding, his friend’s words echoing uncomfortably in his mind.

He had a promise to keep, a woman to protect, a murderer to unmask. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by thoughts of copper hair and challenging green eyes.

Dorian’s carriage pulled up to Ashthorne House well after the dinner hour. The library windows glowed warmly against the gathering dusk, drawing him like a beacon. He told himself he was merely checking that all was well before retiring. Nothing more.

He found his wife curled up in his favorite leather chair, a book open on her lap. The firelight caught her hair, turning it into a living flame. She’d changed for the evening, her ivory silk robe making her look softer, more vulnerable than usual.

“I see you’ve claimed my favorite spot,” he said quietly.

Alice started, one hand flying to her throat. “Your Grace! I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Clearly.” His eyes traced the elegant line of her neck, lingering on where her fingers still rested against her pulse. “I can find somewhere else to read.”

“No!” She moved to rise. “Please, it’s your library.”

“Is it?” He crossed to her slowly, noting how her breath quickened with each step. “I believe, wife, that everything that’s mine is now yours as well.”

“Everything?” Her voice had gone slightly breathless.

He braced one hand on the armrest, effectively trapping her. “Everything.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I… I was just reading about the estate’s history.”

“Were you?” He reached down with his free hand, letting one finger trace the line of text. “And what did you learn?”

“I…” She swallowed hard. “The north fields were enclosed in…”

His finger moved from the page to her wrist, drawing feather-light patterns on her skin. “Yes?”

“Seventeen…” She faltered as his finger moved higher, skimming her forearm. “Seventy.”

“Having trouble concentrating, Duchess?”

“You’re doing that deliberately.”

“Doing what?” His finger reached her elbow, then retreated slowly back to her wrist. “I am merely showing an interest in my estate’s history.”

“You’re…” She drew in a sharp breath as he leaned closer, his lips barely brushing her ear.

“I am what, sweetheart?”

“Teasing me.”

“Always.” He drew back just enough to meet her eyes, dark with wanting. “But only because you make it so very entertaining.”

She lifted her chin. “Two can play that game, Your Grace.”

Her hand came up to his cravat, her fingers untying the knot with deliberate slowness. The brush of her knuckles against his throat made his blood simmer.

“Dangerous game, wife.” But he remained perfectly still, letting her explore.

“You started it.” The cravat came loose, and her fingers skimmed his jaw. “Or have you forgotten that night on the terrace?”

Instead of answering, he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm that made her gasp. Then, he straightened abruptly, stepping back.

“Pleasant dreams, Duchess.” His voice was rougher than he’d have liked.

He had nearly made it to the door when her voice stopped him cold. “Coward.”

The word hit him like a physical blow.

He turned around slowly. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” She stood up, the firelight making her robe nearly transparent. “You start something, then run away. Every time.”

“I am trying,” he bit out, “to be a gentleman.”

“No.” Her smile held a dangerous edge. “You’re trying to maintain control. There’s a difference.”

He was across the room before he could stop himself, backing her up against the bookshelf. “You have no idea what you’re playing with.”

“Don’t I?” She tilted her face up to his, the challenge obvious in every line of her body. “Prove it.”

And he did.

By grabbing and kissing her.

His kiss was savage, possessive. She met him with equal hunger, her fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured her mouth. He could taste her small gasp of pleasure, feel the way she melted against him.

Then, he tore himself away from her, both of them breathing hard.

“Good night, wife.” His voice was pure gravel.

This time when he strode out, she didn’t stop him. But he could feel her eyes on him until the library door clicked shut.