Page 6 of Duke in Darkness

Tension plummeted the temperature in the room. Even her grandmother shifted a little in her chair, an entirely uncharacteristic show of nervousness. For all the cool bravado, everyone here knew the duke held the upper hand, as he would pay Father’s debts and save the family from ruin. Yet could he be unconvinced about the match? The way he had hesitated before saying the word satisfactory…

Lilian straightened her shoulders. She had to gather her scattered wits and behave like a soon-to-be duchess, not a featherbrain. If she caused this to fail, no one would ever forgive her. “Perhaps,” she said politely, “His Grace might enjoy a breath of fresh air on the balcony?”

“Capital idea,” said her father, breaking into a broad, relieved smile. “What say you, Exton? Like a few minutes alone with Lilian before we sign the contracts? Mother and I will wait here while you take a turn outdoors.”

That thoroughly disconcerting ducal gaze returned to rest on her, and Lilian immediately regretted her offer. He looked hungry again. Would he touch her? Kiss her? Tear away her clothing with his big, strong hands and ravish her mercilessly against the stone balustrade?

A choked gasp escaped. Where had that wicked thought come from? Future duchesses shouldn’t even know the word ravish, let alone think about it. And certainly not in regard to a mad, dangerous duke.

“As you wish,” said Exton, and he slowly rose to his feet. But when he held out his shockingly ungloved hand, an odd look settled on his face, almost like he fought a smile. Good heavens. Had he deciphered her thoughts? Was the duke laughing at her?

Her spine stiffened, and she stood, properly ignoring his hand and instead placing her palm as lightly on his sleeve as possible. Yet as they walked to the balcony, his right hand reached around and clamped hers onto his left forearm, and shock jolted through her. Even through her glove and his jacket she could feel the heat, and indeed his power and strength. To onlookers it might look like a mild gesture of affection, but somehow, she knew it wasn’t. This man, this primitive, battle-hardened soldier-turned-duke, had staked a claim.

She would belong to him, body and soul. He would demand it.

Every nerve jangled a warning, and her stomach twisted into knots of fear and something else she couldn’t quite define. But she couldn’t flee; the two of them were now alone on the small balcony. Which had been a foolish idea anyway, the weak afternoon sunshine and brisk air would shortly turn her as blue as her sash.

“So. Tell me of your interests, Lady Lilian.”

Startled by the unexpectedly respectable question, Lilian blinked. “I like to embroider. Visit friends. Attend musicales to hear other people sing because I cannot. And…”

“Yes?”

She glanced furtively inside, to ensure her grandmother wouldn’t overhear this small rebellion of truth. “I like gardens. Soils. Plants and so forth. I am interested to know why some things grow well in places and some don’t.”

“A curious lady, then,” her new fiancé mused, yet rather than judgmental, he sounded almost pleased. How odd. “Also freezing right now.”

“Ah…no. I am quite well.”

“Liar,” Exton replied, as he divested himself of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. It sat ridiculously big on her but the warmth was heavenly, and the earthy fragrance of some musky and surprisingly appealing cologne drifted to her nose. Her previous fiancé had always worn a floral scent.

“Thank you,” she said hesitantly. “But now you’ll be cold. It is chillier than I imagined out here.”

The duke shrugged and leaned against the balustrade. “I’m fine.”

“I must say, you do appear a hardy soul, Your Grace.”

His lips twitched again, showing a hint of straight, white teeth. “Suppose I am.”

Lilian braced both hands on the stone and peered over into Hanover Square, abruptly wanting to deepen the discussion beyond the temperature, to learn more about the man she would soon be marrying. “From being a soldier, I expect. I…I read about you. In the London Gazette. Well, I went back and looked into Father’s collection. He never throws anything away that talks about the Peninsular War, the newspapers are stacked like pillars in one corner of his library. But there were countless articles. How you rose through the ranks. How many times you were decorated for bravery. The lives you saved because of your superior tactics. The British Army, and Wellington, were so very lucky to have you all the way to Bayonne…” she finished, glancing sideways with an approving smile.

Except her fiancé didn’t look at all impressed at her knowledge. In fact, that hint of a smile had gone, replaced by what looked horribly like a flash of agony followed by dark grimness. What had she done wrong? Men liked to be flattered, didn’t they? To be applauded on past great feats?

“I beg your pardon,” she said stiffly. “How forward of me.”

Exton’s expression smoothed into blankness. “Not forward,” he said, “just not…a topic for discussion.”

Lilian winced at her misstep. With his scar and his limp, something dreadful had obviously happened to him in France. Of course he wouldn’t want to talk about it!

“I really do apologize. I spoke without thinking,” she whispered, and unable to halt her instinct to comfort by touch, reached over and gently squeezed his hand. Yet faster than she dreamed possible, Exton took her hand in his, peeled off her glove, and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

All the air whooshed from her lungs. His lips were hard and so hot they seemed to brand her skin. Now her gown didn’t feel modestly loose but a full size too small, and her heart had begun to pound. What was happening? Her previous fiancé had never provoked this reaction!

“Your Grace. Please, it’s not proper,” she said shakily, the lie burning her cheeks. As her fiancé, with the contracts inside on Father’s desk ready to be signed and sealed, he could do a lot more besides. “Not until after the wedding.”

His eyes glittered like jet fire, and her breathing quickened further. The hungry wolf had returned, and wanted freedom from the bonds of propriety. But after a long, heated moment in which she fought down that shamefully inquisitive part of herself urging an experiment—offer her other hand to see if a kiss there might feel the same—Exton merely inclined his head.

“Very well, Lady Lilian. Until the wedding.”