One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

“Oh, I have every right.” He closed the distance between them, taking the candlestick from her hand and placing it atop the mantel. “I’m your lord and your husband, and I have all manner of rights I’ve chosen not to exercise. Yet.”


That last word gave her chills.

His hungry, dangerous gaze trapped hers. “There’s a lot going on behind those pretty blue eyes, but somewhere between those delectable ears and that remarkable brain is a seriously faulty connection, if when I call you ‘Amelia’ you hear it prefaced with ‘just.’ Believe me, I could have married ‘just anyone’ years ago.”

Did she still have knees? If so, she couldn’t feel them.

Believe him, he said? Believe that she had pretty eyes and delectable ears and a remarkable brain. Delectable. Her. Believe that a wealthy, attractive duke had held off marriage for years, but something about her—an impoverished, impertinent spinster—had changed his mind overnight.

Now his words were more than unsettling her. They were threatening everything she believed about herself, and everything she knew about him.

Which was hardly anything, come to think of it.

“What predictable arrogance,” she said, jabbing her finger in his chest. It was a juvenile gesture, but for some reason she needed to touch him. “What utter hypocrisy. You would stand here and … and analyze my character, pretend to understand all the innermost workings of my mind? This, from the man who lavishes affection on horses, but doesn’t know how to hold a wife.”

Only a fleeting spark in his eyes betrayed his surprise.

“You have no right to judge me.” She made a fist and thumped the flat side against his chest. Was that his heart, pounding against it? “Don’t you belittle me for valuing family and friendship and hospitality, simply because you can’t be bothered to care. And how dare you chastise me for seeking ways to be useful, when you’ve brought me here just to give you an heir. You married me for the most mundane function of all.”

“Oh, believe me. When we share a bed, it will be anything but mundane.” His hand shot out and captured her chin. “Do you know how I spent my day, Amelia?”

She shook her head. Just a little, because he held her jaw fast.

“With whores.”

“With …?” Her voice died in her throat. Oh, Lord.

“Yes, whores. I rose before dawn and rode hard, all the way to London, exhausting three horses on the way. I then spent the entire afternoon turning Whitechapel’s most undistinguished establishments inside out, searching for the prostitute who found Leo’s body. I spoke to whores of every shape and size. Dark ones, fair ones, plump ones, thin ones, ugly ones, pretty ones … a rare few who were genuine beauties. And for a shilling, any one of them would have cheerfully dropped to her knees or hiked her skirts for me. But I didn’t want any of them. The whole damned day, I thought only of you.”

His eyes bored into hers. “I thought of you as I rode home, without changing horses in Cambridge as I should have done. I pushed that horse harder than I had any right to do, and yes, she deserved a bit of soothing and apology for it. I never abuse my cattle, but I came damn near to it today. And I didn’t do it because I just wanted a ‘mundane’ tup, Amelia. I sure as hell didn’t do it because I wanted to come home to roast beef and a nice buttered roll. I did it all just to find that blasted token. So I could show you I’m not a murderer. Earn your trust, convince you there’s nothing to fear.”

With a bitter chuckle, he released her chin. “And the damnedest thing of it is—at this moment, you should be afraid. Terrified.”

He advanced on her, backing her up until she collided with the wall. The beaded edge of the paneling pressed against her spine. His desirous gaze roamed over her body, turning her firm in places and soft in others.

“You should be trembling in your slippers, because I am tired and frustrated and about two heartbeats away from throwing you to the bed, ripping that dress from your body, and making you mine, whether you wish it or not.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

He braced his arms against the wall, caging her between them. His heat and scent surrounded her. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. I’d take you right here, never mind the bed.”

His eyes were dark and wild and hungry, and the intensity in them was enough to make her feel invaded already. Gone was the man who’d kissed her in Laurent’s study with such patient skill. There was nothing of seduction in his manner now—only possession, naked and raw.

Though she was shivering to the roots of her hair, she forced herself to hold his gaze and remain absolutely still. Until the heat smoldering between their bodies could melt steel.

At last, her patience was rewarded. He sighed, and the strength tensed in his arms relaxed. It was plain he was exhausted, in both body and mind.

“For God’s sake, Amelia …”