Page 42 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 42

T he gentle sway of the carriage seemed to echo Alice’s tumultuous thoughts as they made their way back to London.

Dorian hadn’t released her hand since helping her inside, his thumb tracing random patterns on her palm as though reassuring himself that she was really there.

“Sarah?” she asked again, her voice hoarse from exhaustion. “You said she was safe?”

“Yes.” He drew her closer, and she leaned into his warmth. “Gregory moved her this evening to one of his family’s hunting lodges in Kent. After you mentioned feeling watched at the school that day, I started making arrangements to relocate her somewhere more secure.”

“But tonight, when Treyfield demanded?—”

“I gave him the wrong location.” His arms tightened around her. “I’d already set the plans in motion to move her, but when you disappeared—” His voice caught. “I couldn’t risk either of you.”

Alice studied his face in the moonlight. The fear and fury had faded from his eyes, replaced by something that made her heart flutter. But the memory of his cold dismissal was still too fresh in her mind.

They reached the townhouse in silence, both too raw for further conversation until they were safely behind closed doors.

In the familiar comfort of their drawing room, Dorian paced before the fire as Alice sank into her favorite chair.

“I’ve been such a fool,” he said finally, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I thought I was protecting you by pushing you away. I thought if Treyfield didn’t know how much you meant to me, he couldn’t use you against me.”

“And yet here we are.” Alice’s voice held no accusation, just weary understanding.

“Here we are.” He turned to face her, and the naked emotion in his eyes stole her breath. “I’ve spent my whole life building walls, keeping people at arm’s length. Then you burst into that brothel room and shattered every defense I’d ever constructed.”

“Dorian—”

“Please.” He knelt before her chair and took her hands in his own. “Let me finish. I’ve been so afraid of losing you that I pushed you away first. Convinced myself that it was for your own good, that you’d be safer without being tied to my secrets.”

“I would have helped you carry them,” she said softly. “If you’d only trusted me enough to let me.”

“I know that now.” His thumbs stroked her knuckles. “When Treyfield took you, I’ve never felt fear like that. The thought of losing you before I could tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

“That I love you.” The words fell between them like precious stones. “That I’ve been falling in love with you since the night you stood in that brothel with your head held high and fire in your eyes. That these past weeks without you have been a special kind of hell.”

Tears pricked the corners of Alice’s eyes. “You have a strange way of showing it.”

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to their joined hands. “I’ve made such a mess of everything. But if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“The rest of your life?” A smile tugged at her lips. “That’s quite a commitment for a marriage of convenience.”

“Nothing about loving you has been convenient.” He lifted his head, and she saw answering tears in his eyes. “You’ve upended my entire world, rearranged all my carefully ordered priorities, made me want things I never thought I deserved.”

“Like what?”

“Like happiness.” His voice roughened. “Like a real marriage with a wife who challenges me and supports me and makes me want to be better than I am. Like a future that’s about more than just duty and obligation.”

“And are you done running from those things?”

She needed to hear him say it.

“Completely.” He brought her hands to his lips. “I’m done running from anything that matters. Especially you.”

“Good.” She tugged him closer. “Because if you ever try to push me away again?—”

His kiss silenced her threat, but this was different from their previous kisses. This held nothing of desperation or possession, only tenderness and promise and love.

“Marry me,” he murmured against her lips.

She pulled back slightly. “We’re already married.”

“Marry me again.” His smile was sheepish. “Properly, this time. Not because of scandal or obligation, but because I love you and can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Well…” She pretended to consider, though her heart felt ready to burst. “When you put it that way…”

His laugh was pure joy as he pulled her into his arms, claiming her lips in a kiss that spoke of both tenderness and growing passion. But when he tried to deepen the kiss, she pulled back slightly.

“I need a bath,” Alice murmured, wrinkling her nose. “I can still feel their rough hands on me.”

Dorian’s eyes darkened at the reminder, but he released her with obvious reluctance. “Of course. I’ll have Charity?—”

“We have our whole lives now,” Alice reminded him softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I won’t be long.”

The hot bath Charity drew was heavenly, scented with jasmine oil. After helping Alice out of her torn dress, the maid quietly withdrew, leaving her alone in the warm, candlelit chamber.

Alice had just settled into the copper tub when she heard the door open. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—she would recognize those steady footsteps anywhere.

“I thought you might need help washing your back.” Dorian’s voice was low, intimate in the quiet room.

She watched as he shrugged off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves before kneeling beside the tub. The sight of him—the notorious Duke of Ashthorne on his knees with such tender purpose—made her heart flutter.

He lifted a soft cloth and dipped it in the warm water before drawing it gently across her shoulders. “I want to erase every trace of their touch,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Replace it with nothing but memories of my hands on you.”

The cloth traced down her spine as his lips found that sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Let me worship you properly this time,” he whispered. “No more holding back. No more walls between us.”

Alice turned her face slightly, her cheek brushing against the rough stubble on his jaw. “Then don’t,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The cloth drifted lower, following the curve of her back, and she let her eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the sensation, to the quiet intimacy of his touch. Her breath hitched as he dipped the cloth into the water again and wrung it out, his hands strong and sure. She had expected the teasing caress of his fingertips, the slow, torturous glide of his hands. But instead, he simply bathed her.

The cloth swept over her shoulder, down the curve of her arm, lingering only long enough to rinse away the suds of soap. The sensation was unexpectedly soothing, each stroke a quiet act of care rather than seduction.

She opened her eyes, watching the firelight flicker in his. “You’re being very disciplined,” she murmured, tilting her head as he dragged the cloth down her back.

His lips quirked up, a knowing smile playing at the corners. “You expected otherwise?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice softer than she had intended.

Dorian leaned in just enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her temple, but he did not press her further. Instead, he continued moving the cloth over her arm, down to her wrist, his touch gentle. Reverent.

“I want you to know what it is like to be cared for,” Dorian murmured, his voice a low timbre that sent warmth through her. “Not just desired.”

Alice exhaled slowly, feeling her body relax under the steady rhythm of his ministrations. He was not teasing her, nor was he holding back. He was simply there. Devoted. Attentive.

As he traced the cloth along her collarbone, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the quiet intimacy of the moment. No urgency. No expectation. Just the steady, deliberate care of a husband tending to his wife.

The warmth of the bath had soothed Alice into a state of languid ease, her body relaxed beneath Dorian’s careful touch. But when the cloth stilled and his hands slid beneath her arms, lifting her ever so slightly, she opened her eyes to find him watching her with quiet intent.

“It’s time to come out, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low, coaxing.

Alice hesitated, expecting him to turn away, to offer her the privacy she had always known. But he did not. He remained steady, unwavering, as though tending to her was the most natural thing in the world.

With a deep breath, she allowed him to help her rise, the water streaming down her skin in shimmering rivulets. The air was cooler now, and she shivered, though not entirely from the chill.

Dorian reached for a linen towel, thick and soft, and wrapped it around her shoulders with the utmost care. His hands, so strong and capable, moved with surprising tenderness as he wiped the droplets from her skin, his touch never hurried, never lingering for too long.

Alice expected more—expected the heat of his lips on her damp shoulder, the press of his fingers on her curves—but he remained patient, gentle, as if his only purpose at that moment was to care for her.

She watched him as he knelt before her and dried her legs with slow, unhurried strokes, his expression unreadable save for the quiet devotion that shone in his eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

His gaze flickered up to meet hers. “I know.” He gathered the towel around her, tucking it securely before rising to his feet. “But I want to.”

Before she could reply, he bent and scooped her effortlessly into his arms, cradling her against his chest as though she weighed nothing at all.

Alice gasped, her hands instinctively clutching his shoulders. “Dorian?—”

“Hush.” Amusement laced his voice, but his hold on her remained steady. “Let me take care of you.”

She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he carried her out of the washroom, through the dimly lit corridors, and into her bedchamber.

The fire had been stoked in their absence and was now casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Dorian strode toward the bed, pausing only long enough to pull the covers back before lowering her gently onto the mattress.

He stood back. The firelight caught his shirt gold studs as his fingers moved to the crisp linen of his cravat, unwinding the carefully tied knot with practiced efficiency.

Alice watched, her breathing growing heavy, mesmerized by the quiet ritual—the way his fingers worked each fastening, the way the firelight cast flickering shadows over the strong lines of his face.

He pulled the cravat free, the length of white linen slipping through his fingers before he set it aside. Then, he unfastened the buttons on his breeches with a precision that spoke of a lifetime of habit.

His shirt was the last to go. He untucked it from beneath his breeches, the fine linen whispering as it brushed against his skin. The flickering light illuminated the hard planes of his chest as he pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor.

Barefoot now, clad only in his drawers, he stood before her, waiting.

Alice swallowed, heat rising in her cheeks. He was breathtaking in a way that had nothing to do with appearance. It was the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence in every movement, the unwavering devotion in his gaze.

Dorian did not rush forward. He did not press her. Instead, he reached out, brushing his fingers across her cheek, the touch so light that it made her shiver.

She reached for him, her fingers trembling slightly, and he came to her—unhurried, steady as the tide.

She lifted her hips, rubbing her folds against his hard length.

“Alice,” he croaked. “Do you want me?”

In response, she wrapped her arms around him as he reached down and kneaded her buttocks. “I want you.”

He guided the head of his engorged member to her entrance, and she wrapped her legs around him as he thrust into her.

He kissed her again and moved his fingers down to strum her pearl. He played with it, circling it as he slowly pulled out of her before sliding back in to the hilt.

Alice’s hips met his, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the room.

Their hips began an unrelenting dance. He pulled her closer as she met each of his thrusts, crying out as her pleasure mounted.

When she couldn’t hold back any longer, her head fell back and her walls pulsed around his hard cock. He immediately followed her over the edge, letting out a cry as he spilled his seed inside her. He collapsed on top of her, his hands cradling her, holding her close to him.

Later, she lay in his arms, her head pillowed on his chest as the late-night shadows danced across the chamber walls. His fingers traced idle patterns on her bare shoulder, and she could feel his heartbeat slowing beneath her cheek—strong and sure, like the love they’d finally acknowledged.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“That I never thought we’d be here.” She traced her own patterns on his skin. “When you first pushed me away, I feared…”

“Never again.” His arms tightened around her. “I swear to you, Alice, I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for those weeks of idiocy.”

She smiled against his chest. “The rest of your life is a very long time.”

“Not nearly long enough.” His voice held such tenderness that it made her throat tighten. “When Treyfield had you… I’ve never known fear quite like that. The thought of losing you before I could tell you how much I love you…”

“Tell me now,” she whispered, lifting her head to meet his eyes in the candlelight.

“I love everything about you.” His fingers brushed her cheek. “Your courage, your wit, the way you face every challenge with that lifted chin that always makes me want to kiss you. I love how you’ve brought light into every dark corner of my life.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Even when I’m being stubborn?”

“Especially when you’re being stubborn.” His smile was soft with wonder. “You’re the only person who’s ever challenged me, matched me. Who saw past all my carefully constructed walls to the man beneath.”

“A man worth loving,” she said firmly.

“Because you make me want to be worthy of your love.” He drew her closer, as though he couldn’t bear even an inch of space between them. “I keep thinking about our future—watching you manage the estate, starting a family, growing old together. All the things I never thought I deserved until you stormed into my life and upended all my carefully laid out plans.”

“Our future.” She savored the words. “I like the sound of that.”

“As do I.” His kiss was achingly tender. “No more secrets between us. No more pushing you away. Whatever comes next, we face it together.”

Alice settled back on his chest, contentment washing over her. Outside their window, dawn was just beginning to paint the sky in soft pinks and golds—a new day, a new beginning.

They had come so far from their first meeting at Madame Rosa’s. From a marriage of convenience born of scandal to this precious, hard-won love that felt stronger after having been tested.

“I love you,” Alice whispered into the quiet room.

Dorian’s arms tightened around her, and she felt him smile against her hair. “And I love you, my fierce, beautiful Duchess. Always.”

As sleep finally claimed them, Alice’s last thought was that some things were worth fighting for. Worth enduring separation and fear and uncertainty. For in the end, love had indeed conquered all, turning their marriage of convenience into something far more precious—a true partnership of hearts.