Page 48 of Duke in Darkness

“Yes please.”

He blinked, and Lilian took the opportunity to cross the floor, her bare feet grateful for the thick Aubusson rugs covering the cool polished wood. Then she took the brandy bottle from his hands and lifted it to her lips. Taking a gulp rather than a sip was a mistake; the amber liquid burned like fire down her throat, making her cough and splutter.

“Delightful,” she wheezed.

Exton tilted his head as he snatched back the bottle, his frown even more menacing in the firelight’s dancing shadows. “I’ll ask again. What the hell are you…doing in here?”

When her coughing fit had ceased, Lilian stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her. “I have brought a peace offering.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“Me.”

WHAT THE BLOODY hell was going on?

Gabriel shifted in his chair, his cock beginning to throb at the thoroughly unexpected offer. He had to decline, of course. Lilian had never looked so angelic or innocent as she did right now—modest nightgown and dressing gown, bare feet, and unbound blonde tresses falling about her face—and the twisted darkness inside him roared, urging him to corrupt, to brand, to frighten. He couldn’t be around her right now. Not when his thin veneer of sanity had been scraped away by that goddamned dandy at the ball, to reveal all the rawness within.

The only thing that would help was this brandy bottle, and several more. Drinking and drinking until he passed out and gained a brief respite from the bramble bush in his head that clawed and strangled as it reminded him over and over of his failures. Sir Roger’s words, the ton’s nods of agreement, the mocking laughter of Frenchmen as they’d tried increasingly sadistic and inhumane ways to break him. Hell, he’d made her cry in the carriage. Who knew what worse things he might do now, when his control hung by a thread?

“Get out,” he said slowly, so she wouldn’t misunderstand. Then he took a long swallow of brandy, welcoming the slight burn in his throat, the resulting warmth in his stomach.

Lilian didn’t move. “N-no.”

“Excuse me? Gave you…an order.”

Her chin lifted, although it quivered a little. “And I’m d-disobeying it. Duchess’s prerogative.”

The words were startling enough, but then his wife unfastened the sash of her dressing gown, letting it fall to her feet in a pool of quilted ivory satin. Seconds later, her modest linen nightgown joined it, leaving her clad only in her thin knee-length chemise.

All the air left his lungs in a single breath as a brutal hunger surged. How could the woman not realize the danger she faced? He’d demonstrated in the ballroom what he was capable of!

“Get out,” he repeated, desperation adding a rasp to his tone. “I don’t…I don’t want you.”

A laughable notion, especially with his cock straining against his trousers. But Lilian didn’t smile. Or flinch. She merely moved her hands to the satin bow holding the bodice of her chemise together.

“I see,” she said softly. “Then you won’t look, or be interested, if I do this…”

Speechless, he watched her unsteady fingers loosen the bow then push her chemise from her shoulder, fully exposing one plump, creamy breast.

Christ.

He’d had dancers who enticed with an expert sway of the hips or tilt of the shoulder. The most skilled and expensive courtesans in several countries. Widows who had discarded all their inhibitions in the pursuit of pleasure, and knew everything about the art of seduction. Yet none of them had ever provoked such fierce lust in him as his very proper wife awkwardly teasing him with a display of one bare, pale pink nipple. Even now he could see the peak beginning to harden in the night air, and his mouth watered for a taste, to suck and bite her nipple until it was so swollen and sensitive she could scarcely bear it.

A growl rumbled in his throat, more animalistic than man, and Gabriel got to his feet slowly to make the action seem even more menacing. For her own safety, he had to frighten her away. One step forward, and he loomed over Lilian. “Cover yourself.”

Wide sapphire eyes peered up at him. In response, she shrugged, and the other sleeve of her chemise fell down, revealing both breasts completely. Inwardly, he groaned. They were perfect. Too perfect. The opposite of him in every way—smooth, whole, and unblemished.

Gabriel couldn’t stand it.

In one fast, uncompromising movement, he clamped an arm around Lilian’s waist and spun her around so she faced the connecting door between their bedchambers. Her lowered chemise stopped her flailing, as the capped sleeves effectively trapped each arm at her side. But he’d made a mistake, for now he had the light floral scent of her hair in his nose, and he could look straight down at the naked bounty resting on his arm. His cock surged again, and moisture leaked from the head. Even better. He was on the verge of coming in his breeches like the greenest of lads, just because his wife had bared her breasts for the first time.

“Told you to go.”

Lilian went up on her toes, and tentatively rubbed her lush backside against his engorged cock. “It doesn’t feel like you want me to go, Exton. It feels as though you wish to bed me. And I am most willing.”

Gabriel’s breath hissed between his teeth. How could he make her understand? He didn’t have a shred of restraint left. The darkness had won tonight.

“You want a bedding. But I have…no control. I want to fuck,” he said crudely in her ear, his free hand moving so he could circle her left nipple. “Not gentle. Not courteous…like a duke. Rough. Hard. Like a soldier.”