The Duke Who Knew Too Much (26 page)

“Oh, I’d love to, ever so much.” Gabby’s blue eyes shone.

Emma fished a calling card from her reticule. “Here is my direction.”

“Dash it, I know I have mine in here somewhere …” Rummaging in her lumpy evening bag, Gabby triumphantly produced one bent-eared card.

As Emma was tucking the card away, a liveried footman came up to her.

“Pardon. Miss Kent?”

“That’s me,” Emma said in surprise.

“I was instructed to give you this, miss.”

She took the note from the footman’s salver and, unfolding it, read the succinct message.

Meet me in the gallery on the third floor.

There was no signature, but the slashing imperiousness of the handwriting gave away the identity of its sender and made her pulse race. Then she remembered what she had overheard earlier and, with a huff, wondered if she should go running to obey his grace’s command.

Apparently, he was all too used to having females at his beck and call.

“Is everything alright?” Gabby said.

“Yes. But I have to attend to something,” Emma said, sighing. “I shall see you soon, I hope?”

Gabby gave a merry nod. “You can count on it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emma found the door to the gallery unlocked, her skirts whispering against the Aubusson runner as she entered the long rectangular room. Paintings framed in gilt lined the navy silk walls, and benches and curtained alcoves with window seats were conveniently placed for contemplation or conversation. The lush drapery and carpeting provided a hushed quality to the space, which was a welcome relief from the brouhaha of the ballroom downstairs.

Awareness prickled over Emma’s skin. As ever, her senses reacted instinctively to his presence even before she saw his leanly powerful figure in one of the alcoves. He was staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. His head turned immediately in her direction, and the intensity of his gaze sizzled through her.

In several strides, he crossed over to her. A faint smile edged his lips as he touched the choker, his finger running over the pearls, causing the strands to clack softly against one another.

“How beautiful you look,” he murmured.

“What are you doing here?” she said. “I thought we couldn’t be seen together.”

“I came in through a private entrance. No one saw me.” He caressed her jaw. “Hasn’t anyone told you never to accept a
rendezvous
with a stranger?”

Given the many trysts he’d apparently had, he was one to talk.

Lifting her chin, she said, “I thought that was why unattached ladies attended these functions in the first place. To find a beau.”

His eyes darkened. “You are not unattached.”

The gossip she’d heard continued to sting. She gave a slight shrug. “That is a matter of opinion. Now, your grace, what are you—”

The rest was lost in a gasp as she was yanked into his embrace. His lips claimed hers in a hot, demanding kiss. Desire rose in her, drowning out the protests of her wounded pride. She clung to his hard shoulders as he ravished her mouth, his tongue plundering, luring hers into a primal dance.

When he ended the kiss, they were both breathless.

Eyes gleaming, he said, “That settles that. It seems I can’t leave you alone for a day without you forgetting who you belong to.”

“I don’t belong to you,” she retorted. “At least, no more than all the other women you’ve dallied with.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you going on about?”

He wanted her to report on the
ton
’s gossip? Fine. She told him.

When she finished, his face was utterly devoid of expression. She frowned. Did he not care? Where was his reaction? She’d expected embarrassment, perhaps, or even anger. Instead, he was eerily ... still.

When she could stand the silence no longer, she said, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he said evenly.

“Is it true?”

“I’m no saint and never claimed to be. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is I thought that what passed between us was different.” She had to force the words past her cinched throat. “Yet you’ve done the same things with other women.”

“What happens between you and me has nothing to do with other women.”

“How can you say that?” she said, her voice trembling. “When you made love to some Lady M. on the
same desk
where we made love?”

That fact, she realized, bothered her the most: he’d taken her in the same place he’d taken other women. As if she didn’t have a special place in his life. In the heart he professed not to have.

The world tilted with disorienting speed. Before she could catch her breath, he’d deposited her none too gently on the padded bench of the alcove. She scooted away, her back wedging up against the window as he leaned over her, his velvet-encased shoulders blocking out everything. All she could see was the savage flame in his eyes.

Suddenly, she realized that he wasn’t indifferent at all. He was
furious
.

“First of all, Lady M. and I did not make love. We fornicated—which is different from what you and I do. Second, I did not fuck her on the same desk. I do not invite casual bed sport to my home. You’ll recall I retain a cottage for that purpose.”

Relief unfurled in Emma at his clipped words. At the same time, feminine wariness arose at the tension vibrating from his muscular frame.

She wetted her lips. “I thought—”

“You made it quite clear what you thought. Now let me make it clear that I will not tolerate baseless accusations,” he bit out. “I will not be controlled or manipulated by jealousy—I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

“The accusations weren’t baseless. I heard people talking about you,” she protested.

“You could have asked me about it rather than flinging it in my face.”

Her indignation abruptly fizzled. He did have a point.

“That was unfair of me, wasn’t it?” Releasing a breath, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” He spoke without inflection.

“Well, yes. I shouldn’t have assumed the gossip was true. It’s just that it ... hurt,” she said miserably, “to hear people talk about you. To think that what we shared wasn’t special.”

He stared at her. “How could you think that?”

The truth struck her fully for the first time.

“I suppose I’ve never been special to anyone before. As a sister and friend, yes—but not as a woman. A lover.” She gave him a rueful look. “And here you are: a duke who apparently every lady covets. Why should you want me when you could have anybody?”

He curled a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Because there’s no else like you, Emma.”

“What you said earlier ... about having been manipulated in the past.” She hesitated. “Were you referring to your wife?”

He straightened, took a step back from her. His expression iced over.

“After we wed, Laura constantly accused me of infidelity, was jealous of every female who crossed my path from the maid to the neighbor’s daughter,” he said tonelessly. “There was nothing I could do to convince her that I was faithful.”

Heart thumping, Emma waited.

“Finally, I got tired of defending myself. She would rant at me, throw fits of hysterics, yet I stopped caring what she believed. Or what she did. She accused me of not giving her attention, not loving her as she deserved—and I suppose she was right. Any affection I felt for her died the moment she took her first lover.”

“She betrayed you?” Emma whispered.

Tight-lipped, he gave a nod. “She needed attention more than she needed her next breath, and if I didn’t provide her with it, she found it from others. In her deluded mind, she thought that if I saw how desirable she was to other men, I would want her more.”

“That’s
madness.”

“That’s not all of it. She slandered me to all and sundry, played the role of the injured party—which, in her sick mind, I suppose she was.”

“Why—why didn’t you divorce her?”

“I’d made her a vow.” His broad shoulders rose and fell. “And there was my son to think of. I didn’t want Charlie to think poorly of his own mama.”

It was the first he’d spoken of his son.

Quietly, Emma said, “What happened ... to Charlie?”

Alaric’s eyes were empty and cold as he looked out into the darkness beyond the pane. Into the endless stretch of night.

“Laura and I had fought, and she’d threatened to leave me. I didn’t take her seriously,” he said. “She’d given ultimatums countless times and never once acted on her words. Then one day I came home and found her gone. I could have lived with that—if she hadn’t taken Charlie.”

“Where?” Emma whispered.

“She’d secured them passage on a ship bound for France. I believe she wanted me to chase after her, to show my undying devotion. Instead, the ship went down in a storm that night.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “There were no survivors.”

She had no words for such a loss. Emma rose and wrapped her arms around his lean waist, giving him what comfort she could. Slowly, his arms came around her. Although he said nothing, his embrace was suffocating. His heart thundered beneath her ear, a shudder passing through his large frame. She held on even tighter.

“Don’t ever question my desire for you,” he said in guttural tones. “Or compare it to what I’ve known in the past. I have never wanted anyone the way I want you, Emma.”

Her heart skipped a beat. It was the closest he’d come to saying that he cared for her.

“I didn’t mean to stir up old memories,” she said softly, “and I’m sorry I jumped to unfair conclusions. I’m not trying to control or manipulate you. I just want to be ... special. I want to be different from all the other women you’ve known.”

“
That
you definitely are.”

Relieved to hear the note of wry humor in his voice, she tipped her head back and said tremulously, “I’m glad you came here tonight to see me.”

His expression turned grave. “That wasn’t the only reason. We found Webb.”

He sat them both down on the alcove seat and filled her in on the details. At his conclusion, she said admiringly, “How clever of you all. The murderer thought to pull the wool over your eyes, and instead you’re even closer to catching him. The noose is tightening around his neck.”

“Bloodthirsty thing, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“Better his neck than yours.”

“Miss Kent, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

She was about to reply when voices drifted in from the corridor. Before she could react, Alaric was on his feet, yanking the curtain across the alcove. The dark velvet panels obscured them from the rest of the gallery and just in time. The voices—male and female—grew louder, followed by footsteps into the chamber. A soft click signaled the closing of the door.

Heart racing, Emma looked helplessly at Alaric. Standing by the curtain, his figure tensed, he put a finger to his lips. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps if they just remained silent, the guests would take a quick tour of the gallery and leave without discovering them.

“What luck to find this door unlocked,” came a man’s voice. “Privacy at last.”

His companion giggled. “Privacy for what, my lord?”

The rustling of skirts was followed by a sensual moan. Blood pulsed in Emma’s cheeks.

“That’s what, minx. That’ll teach you to tease a blooded bull, eh?”

“But I thought you liked it when I teased,” was the coy reply.

“Egad, you’re a hot piece,” the man said in strained tones. “Greedy for my cock, are you? Give us a nice stroke then—mmm, tighten your fist. Ah, that’s it ...”

Her breaths shallow, Emma glanced at Alaric. Moonlight from the window highlighted the flush on his high cheekbones, the hard, sensual jut of his jaw. His chest rose in surges beneath his waistcoat and lower ... Her pulse sped up as she saw the growing bulge between his strong thighs. It made her keenly aware of her own arousal, of the wicked need gathering inside her.

The masculine groans beyond the curtain stirred up the images she’d seen at Andromeda’s. Of women ... servicing men. A naughty notion took root: what would it be like to instigate their lovemaking for once? To drive Alaric mad with passion? To give him that same uncontrollable ecstasy that he gave her every time they were together?

Desire heated her blood, the fantasy as irresistible as a siren’s call.

As stealthily as she could, she lowered herself to her knees in front of Alaric. She looked up into his startled gaze and placed her palm over the ridge in his trousers, squeezing gently. His nostrils flared, his pale irises blazing in the moonlight. His hand clamped on hers, and she waited with bated breath. Would he allow her to take the lead? Did he trust her enough?

Slowly, his hand lifted. Went to his waistband. His gaze never leaving hers, he undid the fall.

Her core tightened at the sight of his bold virility. Glazed by silvery light, his cock was big and thick, veins twisting along its tumescent length. Like a heavy branch, it bobbed under its own weight. The fact that this part of him was exposed while the rest of him was so urbanely attired struck her as utterly erotic. Looking into his eyes, she wrapped her fingers around him.

His shaft jerked in her palms as she ran a fist from root to tip, his skin gliding with velvet softness over the poker-stiff core. She drew the skin back and exposed the eye at the bulging crown.

“Take me in your mouth.”

The guttural demand came from the other side of the curtain, yet it sent a sizzling current through the sheltered alcove. Alaric’s jaw visibly clenched, his hands fisting at his sides. His cock thickened even more, its throbbing girth testing the limits of her grip. A pearl of liquid welled up at the slit.

Excitement swirling in her veins, Emma leaned forward and licked it off.

The force of his shudder travelled through her, emboldening her. She mouthed the blunt tip, and not sure what to do next, gave it a cautious suck. His masculine musk spread over her tongue and aroused her even more. She placed kisses along the throbbing length, lost in her desire to know every inch of her duke ... and determined to show him pleasure he’d never known before.