All About the Duke (The Dukes' Club Book 4) (9 page)

She kicked the waves and looked back over her shoulder at Nicholas. He was still sitting, staring at her, a strange look on his face.

He was dangerous.

She knew that.

He was the sort of man that women risked it all for a taste of. She’d already made her decision. She’d tossed her good reputation by running away. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that. She wanted him. Granted, she’d thrown herself at him and been turned down, but. . .

He wanted her.

She was almost certain of it.

There was something in his gaze that suggested he was going to try to possess her body and soul.

Usually even the very idea of someone trying to own her would have sent her hackles rising, but not him. She wanted to be taken by him. To be with a man of such force, of such power once in one’s life was a dream. Only a fool would pass up a dream.

And then she wanted to take him in her turn. How powerful would she feel with him at her mercy? A slow smile pulled at her lips. It was such a shocking thing to think.

What would Juliana say?

She thought of her sister who had once been wild but not wise enough to know not to trust a man like Viscount Tyburry. But then again, if not for Juliana’s experience, would Allegra be wise herself? After all, it was her sister’s misfortune that had made it clear that she could not sit idly by in her parents’ house assuming all would turn out for the best.

She was tempted to glance back at the rogue of a man on the beach. She didn't trust him. She never would. He was exactly the sort of man Juliana had meant. Titled, wealthy, and ridiculously handsome, the Duke of Roth could distract almost any young woman into forgetting herself. Any woman but Allegra. Nothing, not a handsome, face, a grand title, or charm a mile wide would ever trick Allegra into betraying herself.

And. . . Well, unlike Juliana’s husband, Allegra couldn’t imagine Nicholas trying to break her spirit. Not the way he’d spoken to her in the last day.

Now, wasn’t she fortunate she could enjoy the duke’s company without ever having to worry about the prison of matrimony? It was more than fortunate. It was bloody marvelous! In fact, it might be argued that an affair with such a man would only go to increasing her independence and knowledge.

As long as she didn’t have a child.

That was a rather serious thought. She was not going to be like Juliana. Not in any way. She wouldn’t drain her life out on a bed for a man who didn’t care.

She glanced back over her shoulder to peek at him again and her eyes popped open. My goodness!

Nicholas had stood, pulled his shoes and socks off and was grinning. “Right!” he shouted. “Let’s see if you’re as fast as a lad.”

A strange sort of exhilaration raced through her. He wasn’t possibly serious was he? He couldn't be. No. Dukes didn’t run like mad men along a beach.

As he took a step forward, he grabbed the hem of his linen shirt and whipped it over his head.

She gaped. How could she not? He was absolutely perfect. She let out a little sigh. It was so pleasant to be able to look openly. To not feel shame or have to hide her admiration.

“You’re not running, Alfred.”

She gave him a cheeky grin.

“No need,” she sallied. “You’ll never catch me!”

With that, she took off across the foam and ran across the wet sand. The cold, salt wind whipped against her cheeks and the soft ground gave beneath her bare feet. 

Her heart pounded and she threw her legs out, racing as fast as she could. A laugh rippled from her and as she ran, the sun peered out from the clouds, splashing her with its rays.

Nothing in her whole life had ever felt so free.

Her lungs burned, but she smiled. Smiled so hard her cheeks ached.

Hands reached out and grabbed her from behind. “I’ve got you!”

She stumbled and let out another peal of laughter.

He whipped her around and pulled her against his chest. “Why, Alfred, you’re quite fast actually.”

She winked. “You’ve no idea.”

His smile turned liquid hot. “I think I do, actually.”

Nicholas lowered his mouth to hers and touched her lips with the barest kiss.

She gasped, longing for more but somehow she held herself back. Last night, she’d been tipsy on wine. This was something she wanted to feel with every ounce of her being.

Bracing her back with his broad hands, he kissed her slowly, teasing, torturing until she opened her lips and groaned.

A pleased sound rumbled from his chest and he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Then slowly, he pressed kisses along her jaw and along the curve of her neck. Each kiss was a promise as he moved lower.

“I want you, Your Grace,” she whispered.

“I want you too, Alfred.”

She laughed. The sound of her false name so strange at this moment.

“Do you laugh at me, madam?” he asked, nibbling her skin.

“I do. I do,” she teased, tracing her hands up his strong shoulders and finding the boldness to slip her fingers into his perfect, dark hair.

In retaliation, he bit lightly at a sensitive spot on her neck. She yelped and arched against him.

“Like that, do you?” he growled against her.

Goodness! Just the feel of his hot breath and lips sent a delicious shiver up and down her whole body.

She nodded, still amazed he could evoke such feelings in her.

“So,” he gazed down at her, his face surprisingly gentle and hungry at once. “By the light of day, you still wish to have me?”

Taking courage in hand, she locked gazes with him. “Yes, Nicholas.”

His chest expanded in a huge intake of breath and he gave a nod. “Good.”

It was such an odd response. Had he been nervous that she might say no? She rather liked the possibility that she could make such a powerful man nervous.

Even so. . . She stroked his cheek and then touched his lips with her fingertips. They were so strong and so soft. Just the sort of lips to kiss her witless. “But not here. Not on the beach.”

“Beaches are vastly overrated,” he stated.

“Are they?” she teased. Her lips twitched. “Do many people contemplate them?”

He shook with laughter “Too many do. Sand is quite itchy.”

She arched her brows. “Famous! Your variety of knowledge is most fascinating.”

He arched a dark brow. “I shall choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Oh do,” she encouraged. “Though I do think more people, especially ladies, should be allowed to have such an education.”

“My dear Alfred, what a rebel you are. If women were thusly educated most men would never be able to keep up with them.”

A thrill chased her. Oh, kisses were wonderful but, ultimately, it was the meeting of their minds that was the most erotic thing she’d ever known. “And that, Your Grace, would be the point.”

He waggled his dark brows. “Are you saying women are superior to men?”

“If we were given half a chance,” she said, “I think we would quite surprise you.”

He smiled. Then in that rumbling voice of his, replied, “You already have.”

“Good then.” She grinned and, with a boldness that shocked her, took his hand and began pulling him along the beach. “Now, let’s get on with our walk.”

“You really do make a terrible servant, Alfred.”

“It’s a good thing then that I don’t plan to be one for very long.”

H
ow in the Devil did one properly seduce a lady in disguise as a serving boy? Nicolas stared at the flowers he’d had picked from his hothouse and scowled. It was wrong. All wrong. He was going to just have to have these displayed in the hall. . . Especially after the footman had his mouth open so wide for so long that Nicholas was fairly certain a fly had flown in and out.

He didn’t care if the servants thought he was having an affair with a man. He had enough self-confidence to not be bothered. But he didn’t like the idea of looking like he was seducing a
boy
or someone in his power such as a servant.

This was only one issue in all that was wrong.

Quite frankly, he doubted that Alfred (She still wouldn’t tell him her name) would be impressed by a bunch of tulips, no matter how much they cost.

And perhaps Alfred had already agreed to be in his bed, but he was no fool when it came to women, especially intelligent women. The seduction didn’t begin in the bedroom and it certainly didn’t stop once a man had gotten there. Men who thought so were absolute morons who knew nothing about female pleasure.

He let out a sigh.

Alfred was having a bath. . . In his room.

It had been damned tempting to linger, but he knew ladies could be fussy about such things and, frankly, he wanted her to feel powerful the first time he saw her naked, not nervous.

How else would a young woman feel, smeared with dirt and slightly odorous.

He still wanted to punch himself. He’d suggested her bath after sniffing slightly at the air and realizing that the smell of horseflesh and sweat was coming from her. Who knew when she’d last been able to bathe with ease?

She had not been amused.

It was just one more reminder that he was
not
on a familiar ground with his Alfred. It was a marvelous and slightly jarring experience. He was no longer the one in control. It was, so far, impossible to tell if he appreciated this new sensation.

While he’d had no intention of staying whilst she bathed, it had been, in fact, she who had shooed him out. After she’d lugged her own water up the narrow stairs.

He had, at first, insisted he assist her.

The look she’d given him would have shrunk a lesser man’s balls.

Apparently, she was taking her job as his servant quite seriously and there was no way a duke would assist a boy in lugging water.

She had a point.

It seemed his usually rational brain had gone for a wander. He did hope it would return soon. He had a feeling that with Alfred, he desperately needed it.

Nicholas strode down the hall at the back of his castle, flowers in hand, hoping that an idea would occur to him. Wine and food had worked just fine the previous evening, but now was the time to advance his wooing of Alfred, not fall back. He needed something marvelous. Something exciting. Something that actually showed he understood her. He wanted to see her eyes light with pleasure and not just of the physical kind.

He stopped and turned to the double doors to his left.

A slow smile curved his lips.

The library. Oh, yes. Why the Devil had he not thought it before?

Most women wanted jewels or rare chocolates or. . . flowers. Not his Alfred. Oh, no. She’d want rich vellum, stitched with absolute care and bound with the finest leather embossed with gold. . .And it couldn’t be just any book.

He headed into the library’s huge cavern. It had been built with care by ancestors who knew brawn was not enough to rule. Power was in words and thoughts not just the sword.

He walked to the far end of the slightly darkened room. No bright light was allowed. His grandfather, his father, and now he, ensured that nothing would damage the precious pages in this hallowed space.

He scanned the books that were the closest link he had to his parents besides the portraits in the great hall.

Once, when he had been very small, both of his parents had read to him in this great room. He knew that had been an exception not a rule. Most aristocratic children were rarely brought down from the nursery except for perhaps an hour after tea time. His parents had seemed to view things differently because he could still recall the scent of lavender as he sat on his mother’s lap, her arms around him, her soft hair tickling his cheek as it curled about her face. He couldn’t remember the words but he could recall the soft, comforting hum of her voice as she’d read him stories by the fire.

Later, after they’d gone, he’d rather imperiously demanded that all his lessons be in the library. And being who he was, his tutors had complied. It was in this room that he’d cut his teeth on Chaucer, Dante, Shakespeare, and later, Voltaire. But he wasn’t looking for one of those great men.

He was looking for a great
woman
.

There on the pages of literary work from the golden age of The Restoration was the book he was looking for.

Aphra Behn had been a great in her own right and she’d written publicly as a woman. She was saucy, accomplished and as talented as any of her contemporary males.

Just like Alfred.

Nicholas slipped the small volume off the shelf and savored the feel of the leather beneath his fingertips. Yes. This was the one. It was a reminder that even in a world ruled by men, a woman could make her mark and be taken seriously. She didn’t have to sit at home and mind the manor.

Nicholas’ warm feeling faded as he considered this last thought. It was almost certain that was precisely what Alfred had been brought up to do. . . Tend the manor. But he didn’t know for sure.

Perhaps if he waited, she would tell him the truth. But then he recalled her guarded expression as she’d spoken this afternoon. Alfred was hiding something and she wasn’t going to tell him.

A moral qualm squeezed his gut. What if she was in trouble? He could help her. After all, he was a duke. A man like he had exceptional power and the unique ability to make things happen that usually could not. The fact that he always got what he wanted had nothing to do with this. He simply wanted to help Alfred.

He turned to one of the long, carved desks by the fireplace. It would be so easy to pen a line to one of London’s great ladies and ask if someone’s daughter had suddenly gone missing. He stared at the desk.

If he were a more patient man, he would swear to himself that he would wait until Alfred told him, but he was a man who didn’t sit back and wait. He made things happen and so Nicholas crossed to the desk, put down
The Rover
, whipped out a sheet of parchment and scrawled a few lines.

He contemplated the missive, but before he could think too long, he pressed it, sanded it, and readied it for the post.

Knowing the recipient, if there was any pertinent information floating about London, he’d know Alfred’s identity by tea time in five days from now. Perhaps less.