Page 22 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 22

“ Y ou’re up remarkably early, Your Grace.” Alice’s voice carried a hint of mischief as Dorian entered the morning room. “I thought you’d still be abed after our late evening activities.”

Dorian paused in the doorway, admiring how the morning light caught the copper highlights in her hair. She sat at the small breakfast table near the window, looking unfairly composed in a morning dress of pale blue muslin. Only the slight flush in her cheeks betrayed any memory of their passionate encounter in the library.

“If I’d known you were waiting for me, sweetheart, I would have never left our bed.” He watched with satisfaction as the color on her cheeks deepened. “Though I must say, you seem remarkably energetic this morning.”

“The weather is perfect for a walk in the park,” she said primly, though her eyes sparkled. “I thought perhaps you might accompany me? Unless you have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The hint of uncertainty in her voice tugged at something in his chest. “No business could be more pressing than escorting my duchess.” He moved to pour himself coffee, letting his hand brush her shoulder as he passed. “Though I should warn you that people will talk if we display too much affection in public.”

“Let them talk.” She tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “I find I rather enjoy your company when you’re not being impossibly high-handed.”

“Only when I am being high-handed?” He leaned over her and his fingers traced her jaw. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Insufferable man.” But she leaned into his touch. “Will you walk with me or not?”

An hour later, they strolled arm in arm down Hyde Park’s fashionable pathways. The morning was indeed perfect—sunshine warming the spring air, birds singing in the newly-leafed trees. Alice’s presence beside him felt both natural and extraordinary, like finding something he hadn’t known he was missing.

“Tell me about your childhood,” she said suddenly. “What were you like as a boy?”

Dorian tensed slightly, old memories resurfacing. But something about the gentle pressure of her hand on his arm made him want to share truths he usually kept buried.

“I was… quiet,” he began. “Always trying to anticipate my father’s moods. He had very particular ideas about how a future duke should behave.”

“Was he very strict then?”

“Strict implies rules that could be followed.” Dorian’s voice held an edge of old pain. “With my father, the rules changed constantly. One day my Latin pronunciation would be acceptable, the next it was an embarrassment to the family name.”

Alice’s fingers tightened around his arm. “That must have been difficult for you.”

“I learned to be perfect.” He let out a hollow laugh. “Or at least to appear perfect. My mother tried to shield me when she could, but…”

“But?”

“She died when I was seventeen. After that…” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, you’ve heard the tales of my misspent youth.”

“Rebelling against all that control?” Her voice held understanding rather than judgment. “I can’t say I blame you.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before he asked, “And what of your childhood? Were you always so proper and responsible?”

“Hardly.” A smile curved her lips. “I was actually quite wild until I was about twelve. Always climbing trees and getting into scrapes. It used to drive my mother to distraction.”

“You? Wild?” He grinned down at her. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh yes. There was one time when I decided to teach myself to ride astride rather than sidesaddle. I borrowed Thomas’s breeches and nearly gave our groom apoplexy.”

Dorian laughed at the image. “What changed?”

Her smile faded slightly. “My mother fell ill. She was… very concerned about my future, about me making a good match. I wanted to please her, to ease her mind before…” She swallowed. “Well, I learned to be the proper young lady she wanted me to be.”

“At quite a cost to yourself, I imagine.”

“Perhaps.” She met his eyes. “Though I find myself becoming rather improper again, lately.”

Heat flared between them at the memory of just how improper she’d been the night before. Dorian tugged her toward a more secluded path, shaded by ancient oaks.

“Tell me more about this wild childhood of yours,” he said, needing to lighten the moment before he forgot they were in public. “Did you really wear breeches?”

Her laugh sparkled in the morning air. “Just the once. Though I regularly stole Cook’s freshly baked tarts. She never could figure out how I managed to reach the high shelf where she hid them.”

“And how did you?”

“I may have constructed an elaborate pulley system using a string and Cook’s favorite ladle.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “Poor Thomas got blamed for that one.”

“Somehow, I suspect that your brother got blamed for quite a lot of your adventures.”

“He did rather make an excellent scapegoat.” She sobered up slightly. “Though I suppose I am still cleaning up his messes, aren’t I?”

Dorian stopped walking and turned to face her. “You do not have to anymore. Let him stand on his feet.”

“I know.” Alice cupped his cheek, the gesture surprisingly tender. “You’ve given me that freedom. Among other things.”

The vulnerability in her eyes undid him.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “You’ve given me things as well, sweetheart. More than you know.”

For a moment, they stood there, something profound and unspoken passing between them. Then, Alice smiled, breaking the tension.

“Race you to the fountain?”

Before he could respond, she hiked up her skirts and took off running down the path.

Dorian watched her for a heartbeat, joy bubbling up in his chest at this glimpse of her untamed spirit. Then, he gave chase, their laughter echoing through the morning air.

“Leave us,” Dorian commanded as the footman set down the final course. “We’ll serve ourselves for the remainder of the evening.”

Alice glanced up from her barely touched plate, a flush already staining her cheeks at his tone.

The servants filed out of the dining room silently, though she caught the ghost of a knowing smile on her lady’s maid’s face before the door closed behind them.

“Quite irregular, Your Grace,” she commented, trying to maintain her composure as Dorian moved to the chair beside her rather than his usual place at the head of the table. “What will the servants think?”

“They’ll think,” he murmured, lifting a raspberry from her dessert plate, “that I wish to dine privately with my wife.” His voice dropped lower as he held the fruit to her lips. “That perhaps I prefer to savor certain delicacies without an audience. Open.”

Her breath caught at the dark promise in his voice, but she parted her lips obediently. His thumb brushed her lower lip as he fed her the berry, and her tongue darted out to catch the lingering sweetness on his skin. The fruit burst in her mouth, tart and sweet at once, made more delicious by the heat of his gaze.

“Minx.” His eyes darkened as she deliberately licked her lips, making sure to catch every drop of juice. “You know exactly what you do to me.”

“Do I?” She selected a perfectly ripe slice of pear, the flesh gleaming golden in the candlelight. Holding his eyes, she offered it to him with feigned innocence. “I am merely enjoying my dessert. Though perhaps you’d prefer something else?”

Instead of taking the fruit, he caught her wrist and pulled her hand to his mouth. His lips closed around the pear and her fingers, his tongue caressing her skin as he took the morsel from her. The intimate gesture, so improper yet deeply sensual, made her entire body flush with heat. When his teeth grazed her fingertip, she couldn’t suppress a small gasp.

“Sweet,” he murmured against her fingers. “Though not nearly as sweet as you.”

Heat pooled low in her belly at the promise in his voice.

“Dorian…” she breathed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He pressed a kiss to her palm, then another to her wrist where her pulse fluttered wildly.

“The servants?—”

“Are dismissed for the evening.” His mouth traced a path up her arm. “Which means I can do this…” He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “And this…” His teeth grazed her throat. “Without scandalizing anyone.”

She tilted her head to give him better access, coherent thought becoming increasingly difficult. “Someone could come in…”

“Let them.” He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his own blazing with hunger. “You’re my wife. I am allowed to desire you.”

The raw possessiveness in his voice made her shiver. “Show me.”

In one fluid motion, he stood up, scooping her up into his arms. “With pleasure.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her out of the dining room, leaving their half-eaten dessert behind. He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss as he climbed up the stairs, somehow managing not to stumble despite his distraction.

“My wild girl,” he murmured against her lips as he shouldered open the door to their chambers. “Let me see you fly.”

The door closed behind them with a decisive click, leaving the rest of the world far behind.