My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(45)

His eyebrows went up. “I see. You think I’m too proper. Too ducal.” She laughed, but he moved his hips against hers and she stopped. The feel of him inside her made the breath catch in her chest. He rested his cheek against hers and murmured, “If wicked is what you want, wicked is what you shall get.”

“How wicked?” she asked, intrigued.

He settled on top of her and whispered in her ear. “I want you naked in my bed, spread like a feast for me. I want you on your hands and knees on the rug before the hearth, where I can watch every flicker of firelight on your skin. I want you in my bathing tub, astride my lap and slippery wet. I want you in my blue banyan and nothing else, with your legs around my waist and your back against the wall.”

“Oh my.” Her voice faltered as she imagined every one of those couplings, and her blood heated in anticipation. Even she, who frequented gaming hells, blushed scarlet.

“Shall I take you to bed now?” He nipped her earlobe, and Sophie managed a nod. Yes, yes, yes.

It took a few minutes to tug their clothing back into some sort of order. The duke—-Jack—-put his jacket around her shoulders to hide her disheveled dress and undergarments. He tossed his shirt over his head, buttoned his trousers, and put his waistcoat and cravat over one shoulder. He looked rakish and devil--may--care, more beautiful than any man had a right to look, but it was the way he took her hand that made Sophie’s heart give an off--kilter thump. His fingers, so much larger than hers, laced perfectly with her own. Stopping only to pick up the half--full champagne bottle, he led her out of the library.

She braced herself for any servants they might meet, but blessedly the corridors were deserted. Jack stopped at a door very near her own and threw it open to reveal a luxurious chamber.

“Why, they put me right near you!” she whispered in astonishment.

His blue--gray gaze slid over her as he closed the door behind them. “Yes. You have the duchess’s chamber.”

Sophie put her hands on her burning cheeks. “They must have assumed, when we turned up late at night, that we were lovers . . .”

“Given that I wished it were so even then, I had no complaint.” His eyes gleamed. “Take off the jacket.” She let it fall to the floor. “And now the dress.” Deliberately slow, she slid loose the one button holding her dress closed at her back. The fabric slithered down her body, and she stepped out of it. “Everything else,” he said, his voice gone rough and low again.

She took a step backward, winding the string of her corset around one finger. “Isn’t that your role?”

He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. “Yes. By God, it is.”





Chapter 13




Jack woke with sunlight in his face and a blissful warmth in his muscles. Both were unusual. Normally he woke at dawn, his mind unable to sleep longer under the weight of his daily responsibilities. Normally his valet would be in the room by now, brushing his clothing and heating water for his shave, because a duke could not lie abed all morning. Normally he didn’t awake with such a feeling of utter relaxation, but today . . .

A slight movement beside him brought everything back. Barely breathing, he turned his head. Sophie lay beside him, curled on one side with her mahogany hair covering her bare shoulder. Her eyelashes were dark against her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted. She was so beautiful he wanted to stop time and just watch her.

Making love to her had been electric, the sort of lovemaking that would make a man embrace whatever madness was necessary to maintain it. She met him boldly, unafraid to tell him what she liked, and her gasps and moans had acted like kindling on the burning hunger inside him. It had ruined any thought he had of being able to walk away from her. If she’d only been desirable, he could have; if she’d only been after his title or his wealth, he would have. But she didn’t seem to care about any of that. She made him feel like a man, not a duke, and she made him climax so hard he saw stars in the aftermath.

He caught a stray lock of her hair in his fingertips. Thank God for Philip and his intemperate gambling. Thank God his mother had wept and scolded until he agreed to go to the Vega Club. He could almost thank God that his brother had badgered Sophie into gambling with him once more, because otherwise Jack never would have met her. And now he never wanted to let her go.

But the incontrovertible truth was that their idyll was almost over. The sun streaming through the gap in the drapes meant the rain had definitely stopped. The carriage was repaired, and the roads would be firm enough for travel. It was time to go back to London.

For a moment Jack let his mind wander freely down that path. What then? He wanted to see Sophie again. He wanted to dine with her, laugh with her and make love to her again. Surely they could manage that in London, with some discretion . . .

Although. In London there were a thousand prying eyes spying on everything everyone did. In London Percy would be waiting, with all the work of the dukedom. In London he would have to deal with Philip, and with his mother. The duchess would vehemently disapprove of his liaison with a woman like Sophie, but Philip would be apoplectic.

Jack let her curl slip through his fingers and fall back to the pillow. He’d spent the night in bed with the woman his brother wanted. Even though Sophie had assured him all along that she didn’t return Philip’s interest, that would matter little to his brother. She was right: they had once been close, back when Philip could revel in being their mother’s favorite and gleefully escape the requirements of being the heir. The dukedom had become a wedge between them, not because Philip wanted it but because he resented what it conferred on Jack. He would view this affair as another exercise of influence and power.