The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(82)
“And that’s all you’re to do.” Thank God his sisters would be there to keep an eye on things. Since he’d asked Ambrose to inform them of his mission and the dangers Tessa faced, they would be sure to protect her.
“Lecture received, Professor.”
Tessa’s cheeky manner never failed to stir his amusement. She was the picture of the demure debutante in her fawn silk carriage dress and blonde straw bonnet, but at heart she was a saucy wench…Praise Jesus.
“One day, young miss,” he said, his tone deliberately pedantic, “you’re going to learn that there are consequences for misbehavior.”
“What kind of consequences?”
He snorted. “You’re not supposed to sound excited about getting punished, minx.”
“Well, punishments can be pleasurable, can’t they?” she said knowingly.
He stared at her. “What the devil do you know about that?”
“There was a popular themed room at my father’s club called ‘The Headmaster’s Office.’ I wondered why anyone would find that exciting. Naturally, I had to take a peek.”
“Naturally,” he said dryly.
“It was all very strange. Rods and paddles and whatnot.” She wrinkled her nose. “I asked Pretty Francie about it, and all she would say was something along the lines of, To each his own.”
Once again, Tessa’s fount of knowledge astonished him. It was a hodgepodge, not unlike her friend Doolittle’s pawnshop. She was a veritable storehouse of mismatched facts, half-truths, with a few gems strewn here and there. Being with her was like being on a perpetual treasure hunt: you never knew what jewel you might stumble upon next.
Tessa narrowed her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t want to punish me…would you?”
Case in point. What other woman could he have this insanely improper conversation with? The answer was only the one across from him. A female who had the freshness of an ingénue and the mind of a guttersnipe.
The fact made him want to smile.
“Not with rods and paddles and whatnot,” he said gravely. “But I might enjoy torturing you in other ways.”
“How would you torture me?”
Her breathy voice and rosy cheeks suggested that she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. His loins throbbed with heat. Egad, their chat was rapidly turning into foreplay. Which wouldn’t do: they needed to concentrate on the upcoming visit, not to mention that Lizzie and the groom were just out of earshot on the driver’s perch.
Not for the first time, Harry wished that he could have Tessa to himself. That he could take her somewhere secluded, away from the danger and deception and the rest of the world. Where it would just be him and her and nothing between them…
Indulging in the fantasy, just for a moment, he said in a low voice, “I might, for instance, prolong your pleasure by making you wait for it.”
“I don’t like waiting,” she protested.
“Exactly. And if you disobeyed me, I would make you wait longer. I’d kiss you everywhere, but I wouldn’t let you come.” His voice turned husky at the thought. “Not until you asked me nicely.”
Her lips formed a silent “o.” The same shape they’d taken when they’d circled his cock. When she’d given him the most intense climax of his life, turning him inside out with pleasure. He’d never known a more generous lover and not just in bed. Tessa accepted him, never asked for more than he could give, and, by God, it made him want to give her everything.
Unfortunately, the carriage was slowing, and as much as he wanted to continue the conversation—or, indeed, turn talk into action—this was neither the time nor the place.
Soon, he told himself. The day will come soon when she is safe, and then I’ll tell her everything. I’ll beg her forgiveness and make her mine. For good.
“Tessa,” he said.
“Hmm?”
His lips quirked at her sultry response, the glazed-over look in her verdant eyes that told him she was reliving their moments of passion too. She was a lusty sprite, and he liked that about her. Liked everything about her.
“We’re here,” he said. “Stay close to the duchesses, don’t go anywhere alone. Promise me?”
“I promise,” she breathed.
* * *
“I’m ever so glad you could visit,” Gabriella Garrity said.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Tessa replied and meant it.
Gabby had clearly put forth an effort for the day’s visit. Upon arriving at the enormous, newly built residence, the guests had been ushered through an entrance hall of gleaming marble to the present sumptuous drawing room. Everything in the house spoke of wealth and exquisite taste. The silk-covered walls and rosewood furnishings had an understated elegance, the dove grey upholstery a subtle, luxurious luster.
In contrast, there was nothing understated about the refreshments. Earlier, the butler had rolled in a cart with enough iced cakes and finger-sized sandwiches to feed an army. The platter of sliced fruits was a work of art, and Tessa wouldn’t have dared to disturb it. Yet Gabby had cheerfully dug in, using silver tongs to serve the pineapple, oranges, and sugared berries to her guests.
Now they were all sitting by the coffee table, Gabby on a divan and the rest of them in surrounding curricle chairs. They were talking and nibbling, and Tessa noted with appreciation that their hostess wasn’t the sort to have food on her plate just for show. Gabby appeared to be enjoying every morsel of the cakes she piled on her plate.