Duchess of Sin (12 page)

“Lady Anna,” he said with a bow. “How lovely you
look tonight. I’m very glad to see you have recovered from your accident.”

“Yes, I am quite recovered, thank you, Your Grace,” she said. She gave him a curtsy, noting how silent her flock of suitors
suddenly became. They glared suspiciously at Adair, but they did not dare say anything to a duke. Especially a duke with a
reputation for brawling and secret nefarious deeds.

The silence was most refreshing.

“Do you not dance tonight?” Adair asked.

“Alas, no. The doctor forbade it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve been told you’re one of the finest dancers in Dublin.”

She laughed. “I enjoy the exercise, certainly. But I have more enthusiasm than skill.”

His brow arched. “More enthusiasm than skill, eh, Lady Anna? Well, that is easily remedied—with practice.” Somehow, she had
the feeling he did not entirely speak of dancing.

“We are keeping Lady Anna company this evening,” Melton suddenly said, rather pugnaciously.

Adair merely gave him an amused look. “How fortunate for her. But it can’t be healthy for you to stay in one place, Lady Anna.
Would you take a turn about the room with me?”

He held out his arm, and Anna slid her fingers through the crook of his elbow. Through the silk of her glove, she felt the
lean power of his muscles and the heat of his skin. She felt quite compelled to go with him, as if she could no more stay
behind than she could cease breathing.

She remembered Hades and Persephone again and wondered if this was how poor Persephone felt when she
looked up into those hellish black eyes. He was dangerous, to be sure. But he was also terribly
interesting.
When she was with him, all that numbness went away, and she felt alive. He cast a spell over her, she knew that.

She walked off with an apologetic smile to her suitors. Adair led her along the periphery of the ballroom where the crowds
were thinner and the air cooler. She could almost hear herself think there, despite the curious glances and sudden whispers
they were attracting.

“Are you really all right?” he said quietly.

“Oh, yes. Just a few bruises. But what of you, Your Grace?”

“Me?”

“I’m quite sure I was not the target there on St. Stephen’s Green. I
am
rather envied for my gowns, but I doubt anyone takes a shot at a lady for such things. Except Lady Forest. I do have my suspicions
about her.”

His jaw tightened. “You needn’t worry about me. That will not happen again.”

Anna froze. “You found the culprit then?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze swept over the packed ballroom, the sparkling display of Ascendancy Society. He did not belong
there any more than a jungle panther belonged among chattering monkeys.

Anna wasn’t sure that she belonged there, either. There wasn’t anyplace that she really belonged.

“Do you feel in need of some air, Lady Anna?” he said.

“I do believe I am, Your Grace,” she answered. Never mind that it was threatening to snow outside. She would rather be anyplace
than that ballroom with everyone watching. “But where is there to go?”

He gave her an unreadable smile. “I know a place.”

“Of course you do.”

He led her out of the ballroom and back to the grand staircase. But rather than go down to the foyer, they went up. It was
quiet there, almost silent.

“Where are we going?” Anna asked. “To hide in the attics?”

His hand slid down her arm, his fingers intertwining with hers as he led her onward. It got darker the higher they went. Only
a few lamps burned from wall sconces, and it was blinding after the dazzle of the chandeliers. Anna held tight to his hand.

“Or maybe there is a conservatory?” she whispered.

He glanced back at her. He seemed made of shadows here, all mystery and puzzles. “Would you like that?”

She wasn’t yet sure she could say she
liked
what happened between them in the Olympian Club conservatory. It had been so out of control. But it had awakened something
inside of her, something she craved. If she felt it again, she almost feared she couldn’t live without it. Couldn’t live without
him.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

“Neither do I.” He tightened his clasp on her hand, and they continued their ascent. “But there is not a conservatory here.”

“What is it then?”

At the top of the stairs, he turned down a narrow corridor lined with closed doors. He opened one of them at the very end
and led her out into the night. Anna found herself on a narrow walkway, high above the street. A waist-high iron fence held
them back.

“I saw this from the street, and I asked one of the footmen how to access it,” he said. “It has been a while since
I attended an affair such as this, so I thought I might need an escape route.”

“How clever of you, Your Grace,” she said. “I often feel a need to escape them myself. I wouldn’t have thought of running
across the roofs.”

She drifted over to the railing, enchanted by the unexpected vista. Dublin lay before her in the cold gray blackness of the
night. The pale marble houses glowed through the mist, their windows bright amber squares. Carriages glided along the street
below like toys. And the Liffey was a ribbon of the deepest blue, stars glinting on its surface.

She tilted back her head to take in the stars overhead. The moon was a fat quarter, suspended high above her. “I can breathe
here.”

She heard a rustle of movement and felt him slide his coat over her shoulders. The fine, thin wool held the heat of his body,
and his scent surrounded her. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

“I fear it is cold up here,” he said roughly. His hands lingered on her shoulders, and she leaned back against him. She hoped
he would not draw away, and he didn’t. His arms came around her waist, holding her safe there above the city.

“I don’t feel cold at all,” she said. “Thank you for bringing me here, Your Grace.”

He laughed, and the deep, hoarse sound echoed through her body. It was as if a tie, delicate yet unbreakable, snaked out from
him and around her, binding them together. “You have to stop calling me Your Grace. I’m not your usual sort of duke.”

Indeed he was not. He wasn’t the usual sort of anything. “What should I call you then?”

He hesitated for a moment. “My given name is Conlan.”

“Conlan.” Anna tested it on her tongue. It felt rich and strange, a name that suited him. “It means ‘hero,’ does it not?”

“I thought you said you did not know Gaelic.”

“I don’t, not very much. But my sister Caroline does, and she’s taught me a bit. As much as my featherbrain can hold, anyway.”

“It must be useful for you, this façade of not knowing much.”

Anna reached out and grasped the cold iron railing. She had feared that he could see through her. Now it seemed he really
did. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you are a very intelligent lady. Why else would you not want everyone to see that, unless it serves you in some way?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, intelligence is not highly prized in females. Not in my world.”

“Are you so concerned with impressing brainless British fops and gossiping matrons then? I don’t believe that, Anna. I don’t
believe you care about impressing anyone at all.”

She felt suddenly angry. Angry that he saw so much, more than she wanted anyone to see—even herself. It didn’t pay to look
too deeply into her soul. She wasn’t sure that she would like what she saw there.

She spun around, breaking his hold on her. She leaned back against the railing. “What do you know about it? You don’t have
to live in this world. You haven’t been to a Society ball in—well, ever, as far as I know.”

He braced his hands on the railing at either side of
her. “I have too many duties on my estate to waste time waltzing in overdecorated ballrooms,” he said. His accent was strong
again. “And why would I want to? It’s dull as hell.”

“Of course it is. So why are you here now?”

“Because it has come to my notice that sometimes a duke has other duties. Duties that might include dancing pumps and gloves.”

“But why now?” Anna cried. He was so, so close to her, his large, hot body mere inches from hers. And she longed to arch up
into him, pressing herself tight against him. “Why come to Dublin ballrooms now, when you’ve been lucky enough to avoid them
so long?”

He smiled, but there was no mirth in it. It was bitter and self-mocking. “Maybe I came to this ballroom to see you, Anna.”

She shook her head. “No, Conlan, I don’t believe that. You have some kind of angle playing, and I want to know what it is.”

He laughed harshly. “And why would a featherbrain even care?”

“I don’t…”

“Hush, Anna.” His arms slid around her, drawing her tight against him just as she had wanted. She clutched at his shoulders.
“For once in your life, just hush.”

He pulled her even closer, and his mouth came down on hers. He was not harsh, but he
was
insistent, his lips opening over hers, and his tongue seeking entrance. She opened for him, letting him in, meeting him eagerly.

Oh, yes,
this
was what she longed for ever since that night at the Olympian Club. That sensation of every rational thought flying out of
her, of falling down into pure,
hot need. He tasted of wine and mint, of that dark, rich essence she remembered so well.

His hand slid down her back as their kiss deepened, and his coat fell away from her shoulders. The cold air washed over her,
but she only felt it for an instant before it was replaced with his heat. He cupped her bottom through the thin silk of her
gown, caressing, massaging, until she moaned into his mouth.

He lifted her high against his body and swung her around until she was braced against the stone wall. She wrapped her legs
around his waist, tugging him into the curve of her body. She could feel his erection pressing iron-hard through his breeches,
and it gave her a primal thrill. He wanted
her.
Not the image of her, the earl’s fine, pretty daughter, but
her.

His lips slid down her arched neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat. Her pulse pounded there,
frantic with need. She wanted him, too. Something deep inside of her, something night-black and primitive, called out to that
darkness in him.

He cupped her breast in his palm, stroking it through her lacy bodice. “
Diolain,
Anna, I need…”

“I know,” she gasped. She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged his mouth back to her skin, to the soft curve of
her neck. She shivered as his warm breath washed over her and cried out as his hand closed over her breast.

“I don’t want to need you,” he said fiercely.

“I don’t want to need you, either,” she whispered. Her head fell back against the wall. She closed her eyes tightly, reveling
in the glorious pleasure of his touch. “But I fear I do. Oh, curse it, Conlan, if you don’t touch me, I’ll scream.”

He roughly tugged down her bodice and chemise, baring her breast. He rubbed the rough pad of his thumb over her nipple. It
hardened under his caress, pink and erect, aching.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

She had been told that before. But not until now, under his gaze, did she almost believe it. She watched, mesmerized, as he
bent his head and took her breast into his mouth. He sucked at her hardened nipple, his tongue swirling around it until she
cried out. Her legs tightened around his lean hips, and she arched against him.

He drew her deeper into the hot wetness of his mouth, biting down lightly and soothing it with the edge of his tongue. She
heard the mingling of their harsh, uneven breaths, the whine of the wind, their soft groans and incoherent words. The city
far below was forgotten, the fact that she would be missed, her precarious reputation—she knew only his mouth, his hands.
Him.

His hand slid lower, over her hip, down her bent leg, until he grasped her skirt in his fist. He pulled it up, his palm tracing
her ribbon garter until he touched the bare skin of her upper thigh. With her breast still in his mouth, he caressed the arch
of her hip, tracing her naked, soft skin. He still wore his gloves, and the feel of the leather made her shiver.

Then his hand slid even lower, to her most secret, vulnerable spot. For an instant she froze, stiffened, but he pushed her
thighs wider and traced his thumb along her damp opening. She forgot to be afraid, forgot objections—forgot even her own name.
He dipped his touch inside her, pressing deep, and she cried out.

His open mouth came over hers as he caught her moans.
He gave her no mercy, his fingers driving into her with a hot, delicious friction.

She reached out for him blindly. Her hand flattened against his chest, where she felt the pounding of his heart and the force
of his breath. She slid her touch down, down, over his flat belly, his lean hip. At last, she covered that hardness in his
breeches, and she instinctively closed her fingers over him. It pulsed under her touch, and she felt a surge of some new power
inside herself.

She pumped herself a bit against his fingers, mimicking the movement on him with her hand. Her head fell back as he groaned.

“Ach, woman, are you trying to kill me?”

Anna laughed. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him closer to her. “Do you not like it?”

“I like it too well. That’s the problem.” His hand slid away from her, slowly trailing along her leg as if he couldn’t quite
let her go. But he lowered her to her feet, and her hand fell away from his erection. He braced his palms to the wall on either
side of her. His body was shaking, just as hers was.

She leaned her forehead against his chest and dragged in a shuddering breath. From somewhere in the distance, she heard the
chime of church bells.

“I—should go back,” she whispered. “My mother will be looking for me.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you to the ballroom.”

“No, I think it’s best if I go alone. You should—compose yourself.” She nudged her hip against the bulge in his breeches.