The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(41)

“A Nvengarian game?”

“I believe it is played more places than Nvengaria. I will not hurt you, Meagan.” His voice went quiet. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” Meagan did, with her whole heart and body.

Alexander stepped behind her. Heat streaked through her, but Meagan did not turn around.

His words rumbled behind her. “If I ever do hurt you, if I cause you pain in any way, even the slightest bit, you tell me. Do you promise?” Alexander bent to her, breath warm on her ear. “You say ‘stop, Alexander,’ just like that. Promise me.”

It seemed to be important to him. Meagan reined in her shivering and gave him a nod. “Very well, I promise.”

“Good.” He sounded relieved and pleased, but his voice took on a note of fierceness, as it had the night of the ball when the love spell had first ensnared them. “Now, shall we play?”

Meagan slowly eased her hands behind her back and clasped them together. Alexander wound the lawn fichu around her wrists, gently tying the ends. It was not tight and did not hurt, but Meagan could not move her wrists apart.

She gave a little laugh. “Will you now walk off and leave me to try to get free on my own? Is that the game?”

For answer Alexander moved in front of her again, cradled her face between his palms, and kissed her.





Chapter 12





At the touch of Alexander’s lips, Meagan immediately understood why the love spell had not plunged them into visions. It did not need to, with them alone in the gardens, a spring breeze brushing them, birdsong mixing with the sweet patter of fountains. They could touch each other and kiss each other to their heart’s content, no need for the love spell to drive them insane.

Alexander gathered her against his tall, warm body, and Meagan melted into the kiss. The velvet heat of his tongue moved against hers, swirling fires through her mouth. Before she’d met Alexander, she’d never had more than light pecks on the cheek from inexperienced swains, and now her betrothed invaded her with a man’s kiss, showing her what such things truly meant. Not affection, but deep longing and so much need.

Alexander eased the kiss to an end, then to her surprise, he sank to his knees, his hands sliding down her torso and the curve of her hips as he went. She felt his fingers on her calves, then he began to move the skirt of her walking dress upward.

“I have imagined you bare to the sun,” he said, touching her thighs with his hot fingers. “The sun on your skin, beautiful on your body.”

“Perhaps it should be high summer when we do this,” Meagan tried to jest. The spring air was cool, although under the heat of Alexander’s breath and touch, the coolness did not seem to matter.

“Indeed,” he said, utterly serious.

“Nvengarians are mad,” Meagan said with a half-laugh.

“We are a passionate people,” he corrected. “We only pretend we are civilized.”

Her skirts continued upward, her thighs, then her hips exposed. “If we are discovered here, this could be quite embarrassing.”

Alexander leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the twist of hair between her legs. “No one will pass Dominic.”

Meagan’s words were nearly lost in her gasp of pleasure. “The Duchess of Gower is a determined lady.”

“No one will pass Dominic,” Alexander repeated.

“Very well, I grant that Dominic is a pillar of strength. But …”

She broke off and let out a cry as Alexander slid his mouth over the curls then flicked his tongue boldly inside her.

He kissed her as he had kissed her mouth, strokes of fire, deep and deliberate. The delightful friction made Meagan rise on her toes, wanting to move her hands apart so she could cradle him against her, frustrated that she could not.

“Alexander, you are a very cruel man,” Meagan said breathlessly. “No wonder the love spell works.”

Alexander said nothing. He parted her legs, his hands warm on her thighs, his ruby and silver rings cool bands amid the heat. Meagan struggled not to shout as the wonderful feeling went on and on, knowing that somewhere in the garden, held back by Dominic and the screen of trees and yew hedges, the ladies and gentlemen of the ton waited and speculated.

This feeling of his tongue on her was different from when Alexander had been inside her. Then, she’d been stretched and sweetly aching—this was hot joy flying through every limb.

Alexander murmured something into her flesh, and she felt the burn of his whiskers on her thighs. Meagan wanted him to tell her what he’d said, but she couldn’t speak. She was wicked and bad and not a lady, and she loved it.

No wonder women and men pursued one another with such wild ferocity. No wonder they paid Black Annie enormous sums to make ensnaring love spells. The reward was this—a feeling of utter bliss, worth the heartache of pursuit.

Meagan fought her bonds, wanting to touch him and hold him, that need making what he did still more exciting.

As Meagan struggled, a streak of rapture shot through her, and she nearly screamed out loud. Alexander did not stop, his fingers hard on her flesh, his tongue a point of madness.

Meagan rode on the wave of darkness, her eyes squeezed shut, arching to his mouth. She wanted more and more, and she could not break free …

Her wantonness should have bothered her more, but here with him, Meagan felt no shame. The magic of Alexander took it all away.