Foley, Gaelen Knight 1 The Duke

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dark. I have to have you. Now.
Immediately a frisson of panic slid through her veins.Not that. She wasn t ready. She planted her hand
on his chest, holding him back. She winced to deny him but prayed he wouldn t be angry. Darling, n-not
in the coach. Not for our first time together, please?
He dropped his head back and let out a groan of agonized frustration.
Oh, my sweet man, she whispered, enfolding him between her legs as she ran her hand down his body
and cupped the swollen, steely hardness that strained against his snug silk breeches. May I, Your
Grace? she asked with a coy glance at his face. At his low, lusty growl of desire, she shoved him back
into his seat and took charge.
By the time the town coach rolled to a halt in front of Knight House, Robert and she climbed out, trying
to reclaim a shred of dignity.
The smell of sex poured out of the coach when the footman opened the door. They had pleasured each
other wildly and Robert s climax had been explosive.
Heating with a scarlet blush and holding back nervous laughter, Bel could not bear to look at the grooms
and servants as they walked to the house. She had no doubt that every groom and even the horses knew
what they had been doing during the drive home.
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Carrying her shoes in one hand, her reticule in the other, somehow she walked inside with her chin high,
her stare fixed straight ahead, knowing full well she was in a state of complete dishevelment, a rip in the
middle of her already-low neckline and a high blush in her cheeks. Her whole body felt wonderful,
however, and she couldn t wait to go straight to sleep.
Robert was somewhat worse off. Cravat undone, shirt hanging open halfway down his chest, he looked
tousled and sated, a little savage and quite raw. He was silent as he walked beside her up the curving
staircase. The marble steps felt cool under her stockinged feet.
At the top of the stairs, they stopped and looked at each other uncertainly.
Bel smiled at him and he returned it with a rueful chuckle, running his hand through his mussed hair. He
dropped his gaze and for a moment there was a silence fraught with hunger and hesitation.
Never been to a Cyprians Ball before, he said.
Neither have I.
Another awkward pause.
He slid her a questioning look. I had a good time.
Her smile widened. That was the idea. She took a step toward him and went up onto her tiptoes,
placing a delicate kiss on his cheek. Good night, Robert.
As she drew back he searched her eyes with a smoldering gaze. When, Belinda? he whispered.
Her caress smoothed the black satin lapel of his tailcoat. Soon. Suddenly unnerved, she forced a
casual smile and turned away, slinging her scarf over her shoulder, striding toward her suite as though she
hadn t a care in the world.
Good night, Miss Hamilton, he echoed and stood there, hands in pockets, with the lamplight sculpting
his faint wry smile as he watched her walk away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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The earl of Coldfell sat in Hawkscliffe s drawing room with the other Tory leaders, drinking port. The
night of Miss Hamilton s long-awaited dinner party had come at last. Coldfell wore a taut smile on his
lined face, but inwardly, he was a most disgruntled puppet master. His marionettes were not at all
dancing to his tune, but soon, they would. Oh, they would.
Tonight he had come merely to observe the situation between Robert and his doxy. He could not believe
he had so miscalculated Hawkscliffe s nature. The fiery young duke should have killed Dolph by now,
but here was Hawkscliffe, cozily ensconced with his blond beauty, brazenly indifferent to the shock he
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had given Society and the scandal surrounding his name out there in the world.
As for his promise to punish Dolph, he seemed to have forgotten the matter entirely. Coldfell could only
conclude that the fault lay with this blond enchantress, thisbelle dame sans merci, who had lured the
knight off his vowed quest to avenge Lucy. Hawkscliffe was obviously in her thrall.
As a man who had always had a weakness for beauty himself, Coldfell could not begrudge the fair Bel
Hamilton her living. What he did not approve of was the way she had clearly taken charge of Knight
House, the servants, and even the duke himself to a degree. She carried herself like his duchess, not his
whore, and Coldfell liked it not at all, determined as he was to see his daughter installed as the ninth
duchess of Hawkscliffe.
Robert and Juliet would suit very well.
Coldfell knew he had his faults, but if he had one virtue, it was that he was a most protective and doting [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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