Page 26 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 26

“ I must say, Your Grace, sneaking back into the house last night was quite the adventure.” Alice’s voice carried a hint of mischief as she joined him at the breakfast table. “Though I fear that Charity suspects something, given the state of my gown.”

Dorian looked up from his correspondence to find his wife positively glowing in the morning light. Her copper hair caught the sunlight streaming through the windows, and there was a new ease in her bearing that made his heart stutter.

“I rather think the entire household suspects something, sweetheart.” He set aside his letters to pour her coffee exactly as she preferred it. “Wilson looked too uncomfortable when he brought the morning post.”

“How mortifying.” Yet, her smile suggested that she was anything but as she accepted the cup. “I suppose we’ve given them quite the scandal to gossip about.”

“Let them gossip.” Dorian found himself reaching for her hand across the table, unable to resist touching her. “Though perhaps next time we should avoid the garden. I believe I have grass stains on my evening coat.”

“Next time?” Alice arched a delicate eyebrow. “Rather presumptuous of you, Your Grace.”

“Merely hopeful.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “After all, I do so enjoy corrupting my proper Duchess.”

A becoming flush colored her cheeks. “Tell me something true,” she said suddenly. “Something from your past that isn’t part of your carefully constructed facade.”

The request caught him off guard, but something about the earnestness in her eyes made him want to share parts of himself that he usually kept hidden.

“I used to hide in the library when my father was in one of his moods,” he found himself saying. “There was a window seat behind heavy curtains where I used to read for hours. The housekeeper would leave milk and biscuits nearby, pretending not to know where I was.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight, perhaps nine.” He smiled at the memory. “I read every adventure story I could find. Tales of pirates and explorers who answered to no one.”

“Is that why you became such a rake?” Her voice held genuine curiosity rather than judgment. “To prove you could be free of his control?”

“Perhaps.” He studied their joined hands. “Though I am finding that true freedom might lie in choosing to be bound to the right person.”

Her breath caught at his words, and he found himself suddenly needing to move, to act, before the moment became too heavy with things neither of them was ready to say.

“Speaking of choices.” He rose from the breakfast table and extended his hand toward her. “I have some estate matters to review in my study. Would you care to join me? You’ve proven quite adept at management.”

“Of course.” She placed her hand in his. “Though shouldn’t we be planning to travel to the country soon? Surely the estate needs attention.”

“Not yet.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as they left the breakfast room. “Until we know Sarah is truly safe, we need to remain in London. The men searching for her are growing bolder.”

“Then we stay.” She squeezed his arm gently. “Now, show me what has had you frowning at your correspondence lately.”

In his study, they pored over reports and correspondence. Alice’s sharp mind and practical suggestions impressed him anew. She had a particular talent for finding inefficiencies in the estate’s management that even his experienced steward had missed.

“If we implement these changes,” she said, pointing to her neat annotations, “we could increase the home farm’s yield by at least fifteen percent.”

“Remarkable.” Dorian caught her hand and tugged her around to face him. “Do you know how brilliant you are?”

“I merely have experience in managing an estate with limited resources.” Pleasure at his praise laced her voice. “Now, about the tenant cottages?—”

“Damn the tenant cottages.” His voice dropped to that dangerous purr that never failed to make her shiver. “Do you have any idea how irresistible you are when you’re being clever?”

“Dorian…” Alice had meant it as a warning, but it came out more like a plea as his fingers traced up her arm.

“The way your eyes light up when you solve a problem.” He rose slowly from his chair and backed her up against his desk. “How that brilliant mind of yours cuts straight to the heart of every issue.” His lips found that sensitive spot beneath her ear. “It makes me want to forget all about being a gentleman.”

Her breath hitched as his mouth traced a path down her throat. “The door…”

“Is locked.” His hands settled on her waist and lifted her onto the edge of his desk. “I made sure of it when we entered.”

“Very presumptuous of you, Your Grace.” Her fingers were already tangling in his hair, drawing him closer.

“Merely hopeful.” He gently nipped her collarbone. “After all, watching you manage my estate is surprisingly… arousing.”

She laughed breathlessly. “Only you would find estate management seductive.”

“Not estate management.” His fingers found the first ribbon on her gown. “You. Being brilliant. Being perfect.” Each word was punctuated with a kiss. “Being mine.”

Her head fell back as his mouth traced the curve of her shoulder. “The papers…”

“Can wait.” His clever fingers untied her laces. “You, my beautiful Duchess, cannot.”

Her gown slid to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, suckling, biting and licking her lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she let out a groan and clutched his shoulders.

Setting her bottom on the edge of his desk, his hand trailed up her leg and found the sensitive nub between her folds.

“You are so wet,” Dorian whispered as he kneeled between her thighs.

Alice needed no further instruction and spread her legs for him. He beheld the beauty of her flower and slowly licked up her thigh until he found the center of her pleasure. His tongue flicked out, and she whimpered as it found home. He slid a finger inside her as his tongue continued to lick and stroke her folds. When her walls tightened around him, he knew she was reaching her peak. He slowly withdrew his finger and stood up.

He claimed her mouth, his tongue exploring every nook and cranny. Then, he dipped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

“Please, Dorian, I cannot—oh!” she gasped as he slid his fingers inside her once more. He circled her pearl with his thumb until he could feel her pulsing with pleasure.

Unable to resist her any longer, he guided his rigid member to her entrance and slid into her until he was fully seated inside her. She moaned as she clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

He pulled out before sliding back in deeper, his loins burning to explode, but he held back to push her to the heights of pleasure. Her hands slid down his back and grabbed his buttocks, pulling him deeper. She writhed beneath him, and a stack of papers fluttered to the floor.

He didn’t care.

He thrust into her so hard that his desk scraped across the floor. He was beyond thought. His body and soul were consumed by the feel of her hot, velvety walls clenching around him. When her head fell back and she cried out, he could hold back no longer. He let out a roar as he spilled his seed inside her.

His breathing was labored as his head fell on her chest. Eventually, he pulled out of her. When he lifted his head, he could see the flush of pleasure across her bare breasts. He lowered his head and suckled her taut nipple before moving to the other.

Then, he drew back to gaze at her flushed face, her copper hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

“You are exquisite,” he murmured, tracing her swollen lips with his thumb. “Like some pagan goddess come to life in my study.” His fingers ghosted over the marks he’d left on her throat, possessive yet tender. “I do not deserve such beauty in my life, but I find myself too selfish to resist it.”

Later, as he helped her restore order to her appearance, he couldn’t help but smirk at the state of his desk. Paperwork lay scattered across the floor. His inkwell had somehow ended up beneath his chair, and he was fairly certain that there were pin marks on his beloved mahogany surface.

“Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” Alice chided as he refastened the last of the buttons on her dress. “What will Wilson think happened in here when he comes to light the fire?”

“That his master is very thorough in reviewing estate matters with his mistress.” He pressed a kiss to the exposed nape of her neck before putting her hair back in place.

“Thorough, indeed.” She turned to survey the chaos. “Oh Lord, is that my… Did my stockings end up on your bookshelves?”

Dorian glanced up to where the delicate silk dangled from his copy of Ivanhoe . “I believe they add a certain je ne sais quoi to the decor.”

“You are impossible.” Alice was fighting laughter as he retrieved them. “What if your valet comes in?”

“Then he’ll think I’ve developed a very specific interest in ladies’ haberdashery.” Dorian caught her around the waist as she tried to gather the scattered papers. “Leave it. Give the servants something to speculate about over dinner.”

“As if they don’t already.” She smoothed his cravat, which had somehow survived their encounter mostly intact. “Though I suppose it’s good for them to know that their Duke and Duchess are harmoniously matched.”

“Is that what we are calling it now?” Dorian nipped her fingers playfully. “Harmony?”

“Would you prefer ‘thoroughly debauched’?”

“I would prefer,” he murmured against her palm, “to take you back upstairs and demonstrate just how harmonious we can be.”

“Insatiable man.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back. “Later. For now, I believe we do need to discuss those tenant cottages.”

“Minx.”

He watched her retrieve the relevant papers, admiring how quickly she regained her composure. Only the becoming flush in her cheeks and the slight disarray of her hair—which he had tried his best to fix—betrayed their recent activities.

“Now, about those tenant cottages,” she said, spreading the papers on his desk. “The repairs will cost more than initially estimated, but I have found a way to reduce expenses by using local materials. And if we time the work with the harvest…”

They spent the next quarter hour discussing improvements and costs, her practical suggestions impressing him as always. When they had finally settled on a plan, she gathered the papers and moved to leave.

“Oh, and Dorian?” She paused at the door, that wicked gleam back in her eyes. “Next time, try not to leave so many marks on my neck. Poor Charity is running out of creative ways to arrange my hair.”

With those parting words, she sailed out of his study, leaving him chuckling and already planning their next ‘estate management’ session.