Dusk With a Dangerous Duke (15 page)

Which explained why she was an opinionated, mischievous brat with no respect for her elders.

“You were the one who invited me,” he reminded her. “What did you expect?”

Hunter walked around Regan.

“I didn’t expect you to behave like an ars—”

He glanced back and noted that Miss Bramwell had clapped her hand over her cousin’s mouth before she could finish her insult. It appeared he owed the lady a small gift as well.

Very few people got away with silencing Regan.

With a smirk on his lips, he walked the remaining distance to the curtain and slipped inside.

Lady Grace was alone. She whirled around, and a strangled gasp was wrung from her throat. “What are you doing? You cannot be in here!”

The lady’s outrage barely registered. Hunter’s mind went blank as he took in the state of her undress. The seamstress had removed her walking dress so measurements could be taken. Lady Grace wore only her stays, chemise, and petticoat. As he had already deduced, she was beautifully formed with long slender limbs and pale, soft skin unblemished by the sun.

She was currently using her lovely arms to hide the soft swells of her breasts. “Get out!”

Hunter sighed, enjoying her feminine outrage. He rather doubted she would be comforted by the notion that he had seen countless women with less clothing covering their bodies than her. “Forgive me, Lady Grace. I am reluctant to be a gentleman about this.”

“Why the devil not?”

“If I leave, you will only find another reason to avoid me. This way, you and I can talk and get to know each other.” There was a simply constructed chair in the corner of the small private room. He grabbed the wooden frame and dragged it closer to her. Once he was satisfied with the position, he sat down. The wooden joints squeaked in protest but the chair held his weight.

Lady Grace frantically glanced around the interior. Espying her discarded dress, she scooped it up and held the bundle of fabric in front of her. “What if I call for help?”

“I would not recommend it,” he cautioned, watching her struggle with the dress as she attempted to cover herself from his hungry gaze.

Hunter almost told her that it was too late. He had glimpsed enough, and his appetite was whetted. If she were already his lover, he would have pushed her against the wall, unfastened his trousers, and taken her swiftly. He would have kissed her, drinking in her cries of ecstasy to muffle the sounds of his rough pleasuring.

The lady standing before him would have been mortified and beet red all the way down to her toes.

She lifted one haughty eyebrow. “Give me one good reason why I should not scream?”

“Well, for one thing … every one in this respectable establishment will come running to see the cause of your upset. Then they will see me.” He dug his right thumb into his chest. “Before nightfall, the
ton
will be abuzz with Lady Grace Kearly’s scandalous behavior. I can hear the gossips just licking their lips. Lady Grace fornicating with a Lord of Vice in a dressmaker’s shop? How shocking!”

Lady Grace worried her lower lip as she contemplated his words.

He and his friends had established their notorious reputation long ago. There was little that would surprise certain members of the
ton
when it came to the Lords of Vice. Including her in his tale added to the excitement.

And if I become any more stimulated, even an innocent like Lady Grace is bound to notice my cock poking the front of my trousers.

“All the more reason to leave.”

Lost in his pleasant thoughts, he did not immediately follow her reasoning. “I beg your pardon?”

Lady Grace wet her lips. If they were dry, he would have been more than willing to moisten them with his tongue. In warning, his cock twitched and he resisted the urge to adjust himself.

“You have to slip out before you are discovered,” she said in hushed tones and looked pointedly at the closed curtain.

“And miss our little chat? I think not,” he said, grinning up at her. “If you had arrived in town earlier, we might have posted banns. However, all is not lost. I will apply for a special license. We can marry before your birthday and satisfy the terms of the contract.”

Anger got the best of her, and Lady Grace stepped toward him. “How many times do I have to say it? You had your chance to marry me, Your Grace. Now I have decided that I am no longer interested in adhering to the terms of this arranged marriage. I may need a husband before my birthday, but I will find another suitable man.”

“Why do you need a husband before your birthday?” he abruptly asked, homing in on the odd comment. “If you allow the terms of the agreement to expire, you are a free woman, are you not?”

“What business is it of yours?” she heatedly countered, taking another step closer. “I will no longer be your concern. If I am a free woman, then I will handle my problems in my own way.”

It took him seconds to figure out why Lady Grace was so eager to jump into another marriage so quickly. “It’s your uncle.”

“Leave my uncle out of this.”

He clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them as he contemplated her outrage. “Of course. That explains much. You are an heiress, and a titled one at that. If you won’t marry me, then I cannot fathom why you would be so eager to marry and bed some inferior gent if there was not another threat looming on the horizon.”

“Some inferior gent?” She sneered at him. He should not find her fury so arousing, but he liked her spirited nature even if it would be the cause of many battles in the future. “Is your arrogance boundless?”

“Not in the slightest.” Hunter startled her by standing up. The light wooden chair toppled over. She tried to back away, but her overconfidence had brought her too close. He knocked the bundle that made up her dress out of her hands, and shackled her wrists with his fingers, using her desire to escape him to back her up until she was against the wall.

Just as he had imagined them together moments ago.

“Please … let me go.”

Her green eyes were dark and filled with muted defiance. Good. He did not want her to fear him—at least not so much that his touch repulsed her.

“You have spent too much time in the company of servants, Lady Grace.” She gasped as he abruptly raised her arms above her head and pinned them in place. “You will discover that a husband is not as biddable.”

“You have no desire to marry.”

“Think not?” He pressed his body against her. His cock thickened, straining to find the apex of her thighs and the yielding, wet sheath that it concealed. “My body’s response proves that I am quite capable of performing my husbandly duties if you challenge me further.”

Her eyes widened at his threat. “You risk a scandal on both our heads.”

“My dear innocent lady, I was taking part in scandal after scandal while you were still learning to write your letters. You will discover that the gentleman you are about to marry fears nothing.”

Her vulnerable position did not prevent her from fighting back. “Are you mad or simply too thickheaded to understand? I do not wish to marry you.”

“Sometimes, Duchess, we do not have a choice in what we want in life,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her full lips. For once, the words were not spoken with the bitterness of a man trapped by his circumstances.

“You speak of duty,” she said in a flat mutinous tone.

His thumbs brushed the tender flesh of her wrists. Her pulse was thundering in her veins as he slowly rubbed against her. “Aye. For years, I thought only of myself and the decisions made for me by my grandmother. I never considered your feelings.”

“Would things have been different if you had?”

He felt the need to answer her truthfully. “No. I was a selfish boy who grew into a selfish man. A failing, to be certain, but I am willing to mend my ways.”

Lady Grace blinked rapidly as if she were fighting tears. “Do not bother on my account. I no longer need you.”

And she thought to replace him with another. Well, that would not do at all.

“That is where you are wrong, Duchess.”

Her face was inches from his, but she managed to tilt her chin up and glare at him. “I am not your duchess.”

“That, too, is where you are wrong.”

Hunter had not intended to take his teasing this far, but Lady Grace was so damn defiant. He had to show her that the decision was out of her hands.

“Have you ever been kissed?”

“Of course I have.”

Her answer gave him pause. Some country lad had been kissing his lady? He gritted his teeth as his grip tightened on her wrists. “Who?”

“Ah.” Understanding lit her green eyes. “You do not like the idea of someone else kissing me, when I know that you have likely kissed thousands of women.”

Aye, it was hypocritical of him to demand names of her bold suitors from her when he was guilty of the same deed. Not to mention all the other wicked things he had done. Still, fury roiled in his gut that other men had kissed her.

Instead of pressing for names, he tried another tactic. “Did you like it when these gents kissed you?”

“And what if I did?”

By God, the woman liked to prick his temper.

A man’s patience only went so far. If she had not fallen so neatly into his verbal trap, he would have been tempted to toss her over his knee and paddle her backside for her audacity.

Fortunately for her, he had other, more pleasurable ways of expressing his frustration. “Then I intend to make you forget all the gents who stole a kiss from you, while you left them hoping for more than a chaste peck.”

It was in her expression to respond to his assertion that the kisses she had received thus far had all been as exciting as kissing a relative, but at the last minute she thought better of it.

Good.

The lady was learning something about him, and he had yet to begin the lesson.

Instead, she said, “You can try.”

Oh, it was rare for Hunter to refuse a challenge. He lowered his head and closed the inches between them. “And I will succeed, Duchess.”

He captured her mouth before she could turn her face away. Her eyes closed as their lips connected. His tongue flicked lightly at her upper lip as he tasted her. Lady Grace’s mouth was sweet for a lady who possessed a tart tongue. His mouth glided over hers, mentally willing her to give him more.

Innocence.

It was a flavor he had never cared to sample.

“Open your mouth, Grace. Taste me,” he commanded while his hands massaged her wrists.

He longed to touch her, but he dared not release her. If given the chance, Lady Grace would likely slap him for his uncivilized behavior. And he would deserve it. Getting fondled by a man in a dressmaker’s shop was out of most noblewomen’s experience.

She managed to surprise him by parting her lips slightly. Or perhaps she was attempting to curse at him for taking liberties she had not granted him. None of it mattered, Hunter thought, as he pushed her further. His tongue glided against hers and he groaned against her mouth.

Christ! His cock was as hard as an iron spike in his trousers. Hunter pressed the length of it against her, craving nothing more than to raise her petticoat and sheathe himself fully. He was not considering the risks or the small matter of the lady’s virginity.

This was all about need.

He needed to bury himself into this woman and stake his claim.

Hunter was almost mindless with it. He rolled his hips against her, imagining the feel of her tight, muscular walls as they squeezed his thick cock. The mere thought had him struggling not to release his seed.

He no longer had to deny himself.

Another demand his grandmother had imposed on him with her damn marriage contract was the expectation that he was to get his new duchess with child as soon as they were married.

In his current state, Hunter was rather looking forward to the task. In fact, perhaps if they were quiet, no one would realize …

“Good heavens, what are you doing to that young woman?”

Lady Grace froze and her eyes snapped open in mute shock.

The outrage in the seamstress’s voice was nearly as effective as a bucket of lake water in winter. Hunter gave Lady Grace’s slack mouth a final kiss before he lowered his head to gaze over his shoulder. His body shielded his future bride from curious gazes; nor was he in any rush to display his full-blown arousal to a room filled with spectators.

Such a display had
scandal
written all over it.

While he could weather it with a smug grin on his face, he suspected Lady Grace would perish from the humiliation.

Or at least, she would want to.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he growled, hoping his anger would send the woman scurrying.

“You have no business being in here,” the seamstress said.

Hunter silently cursed. Every female he encountered this afternoon was determined to be difficult.

“I said as much when you entered the room,” Lady Grace muttered.

“Hush,” he told her, and then softened the command by kissing her cheek. To the outraged seamstress, he said, “What do you think I’m doing, woman? I’m tending to my wife.”

“I am not your wife,” Lady Grace whispered back.

“Yet,” he murmured for her ears only.

She tugged, and belatedly Hunter realized he had not released her arms. He unshackled her wrists and swiftly bent down to retrieve the discarded dress. He did not offer Lady Grace the garment. Instead, he held the fabric in front of his trousers. Even being caught in a compromising position had not lessened his arousal.

“Well, Your Lordship, that sort of tending best be done in your bedchamber,” the seamstress said sharply. “We run a decent place. We’ll tolerate none of that tomfoolery here.”

Hunter heard soft laughter. Regan. She would never let him live this down, but he hoped she would be kind to Lady Grace. He glanced in her direction; the rosy hue had not faded from her cheeks.

“I think—I—” He cleared his throat. “I will wait outside while you finish with my
wife.
”

He emphasized their marriage status to spare Lady Grace further humiliation, just in case the seamstress thought to rebuke her once they were alone.