Page 8 of A Tale of Two Dukes

Turning to the woman who dares hold my pleasure hostage, I snarl, watching in satisfaction as she flinches ever so slightly. “Mine.”

“You don’t understand-”

“It is you who does not understand. I am laying claim to her person this instant.”

“The cost-”

“Will be covered by me in full.” I turn to Hugh, tipping my nose in the air. “I will pay whatever the cost.”

“Very well,” she concedes, her eyes darting between Hugh and me. “I will prepare her-”

Again, I cut her off, no longer wishing to engage in talk when Kitty’s nubile body screams at me to take her, conquer her. “No need. I had planned on utilizing the voyeur room, and this adventuress will serve my desires to perfection.”

CHAPTER 4

Kitty

My heart pounds in my ears, the rushing sound drowning out everything else. Raucous laughter filters through from every corner of the room; however, the sound is warped. Instead of smatterings of merriment, I hear screaming.

It’s as if they’re all gasping for air or pleading for help. I whip my head about, the faces and masks all blurring together until I’m nearly dizzy from looking at them. Nausea bubbles up, threatening me to empty the contents of my stomach.

I want to squeeze my eyes shut, to drive it all out, but the moment I do, I stumble, relying on the strong arms of this Alpha stranger to guide me back up. A concerned look flashes across his face as he reaches down to stroke my cheek.

It’s almost endearing. If this were any other place, any other circumstance, I might swoon. But it’s not. It’s a den of iniquity where this man holds no sense of honor—only ruination.

It shouldn’t matter at this point. Not with death so close on my heels. Though I cannot see the twin of Satan, I can feel him breathing down my neck. It’s both hot and cold at the same time, sending shafts of anxiety through my chest.

Twin. I still cannot process the information rattling about in my brain like a boy with his many marbles. How could Thomas have kept something like this from me? I was to be his wife.

Yet again, bitterness rises in my throat, nearly choking me. I shouldn’t be surprised by the actions of men. And yet, here I am, stuck in the midst of them. Each one is no doubt more false than the next. Just like Thomas. Just like Father.

Pain bursts through my chest as understanding finally dawns on me. This is the agony Mother must have felt. It’s the knowledge that no matter what you do, you will always be alone. I never wanted to believe it. I had hoped one day to have my own happy ending.

True, I knew nothing really about Thomas, seeing as the marriage was arranged before I was even out of leading strings. But the times we did spend together, I thought I could learn to love him. Now, I see the bitter truth.

Everything seizes up, stopping the duke in his tracks. Once more, his green eyes darken with what looks to be concern. But is it truly? Can a man so bent on defiling me even feel? I press my hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow down, but it doesn’t listen to me.

Nothing listens to me anymore. Why can’t it all just stop? Sobs catch in my throat as he winds his arm about my waist, hauling me closer to him. But that makes it even worse.

Now, I’m confronted by his dark, masculine scent. The heady smell of tobacco with a splash of bourbon assaults my nose. But underneath that is a musky scent that causes my knees to shake beneath the voluminous dress.

It’s nothing like the scent of the man I was set to marry. There’s something addictive about this, something that makes me want to curl up and drink it in. If I’m being honest, Thomas’s scent made me want to gag.

I wasn’t sure how in the world I would be able to abide standing by his side, much less live with him, when just a mere whiff made me want to cast up my accounts. But with the current Birchleigh… Oh, but he is dangerous.

It’s not just the bunching of his muscles as he hunches down, his eyes seeking mine. It’s not just the way his eyes take in everything, not missing any minute detail. It’s not even the air of lethality that surrounds him like a comfortable cloak.

No. It’s his very being. Something about this man calls to me, demanding I give in to this charade and give him all of me. I know I have no other choice. I’m constrained, dependent upon Madame Douler and her goodwill. But the more I’m around this stranger, the more my body feels willing as opposed to forced.

And that’s what scares me more than anything. Once I realized I was in a brothel, I knew I’d have to earn my safety on my back. But it was more of a resignation instead of a reveling. Now, I actually want to see what it’s like to lose myself in a man… This man.

The other women make it seem so effortless. They cavort with these powerful men, smiles never leaving their faces, their legs hoisted high in the air as they take a stranger into their bodies.

Could I one day possess such ease? Do I want to? Everything battles within me as I stare up at the man who currently holds my fate. He will take from me the one precious thing I have left.

Can I really just hand it over with a practiced grace like these other girls? Will he even believe me when I spew my lies so prettily from between my lips? Batting my eyes, I pull away, attempting to be coy.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I need a moment to gather some air. Y- Your virile body just-” I fumble about, looking for words that are not natural on my tongue.