by Tessa Bowen
“Let’s wash your feet off in the pond, shall we? Reese, bring me a cloth, please.”
The butler came with a large white napkin folded over his arm. The Duke knelt and threw the cloth over his shoulder.
“Lunch is served, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Reese. That will be all.”
The butler retreated with a bow and the Duke took her around the ankle, dipping her foot in the water.
“That’s friggin’cold!”
“Don’t fuss. It will be over soon. Your feet are filthy. It wouldn’t be civilized for you to eat lunch this way.”
“It’s going to take a lot more than a foot bath to make me civilized.”
His sapphire blue eyes penetrated her very soul. “Truer words were never spoken.”
“I think I may be a lost cause.”
“I have enough civility around me, I’ve decided. I rather like your wild ways.” Softly, he began rubbing the dirt from the tops of her foot with his fingers. His thumbs moved in slow circles across her instep.
She let out a nervous giggle. “That tickles.”
“Hold still, you little urchin. I’m trying to make you presentable.”
Izzy let out the breath she was holding as flames of sensual pleasure licked up her legs. “I don’t believe you’ve really sworn off women,” she said softly.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because…you’re flirting with me.”
He cocked a brow at her. “The Devil Duke may emerge for an encore performance now and again. Does my flirting bother you?”
She shook her head.
His thumb met with a knot in her flesh, just between her big toe and the next. “What’s this?” he inquired, lifting her leg so he could inspect the bottom of her foot.
“Oh, I stepped on a nail when I was a kid.”
“How ever did you do that?”
“Mrs. O’Leary was chasing me down the hall. She was so mad that day—she was going to wallop me good, but I got away. I was faster than she was. Anyway, she chased me out onto the porch and there was a rusty nail sticking out of the steps. It went straight through. One of the other foster kids peed his pants when he saw the nail sticking out of my foot.”
“Mrs. O’Leary again? She sounds like a horrid woman. That must have really bloody smarted. Now, where did this happen?”
“In Lansing, Michigan.”
“Mrs. O’Leary of Lansing Michigan, is it? Yes, well I’d like to chase her down the bloody hall and see how she likes it.”
“You would?”
“Yes, quite.”
“I think if you chased Mrs. O’Leary down the hall, she wouldn’t run away from you. She’d probably run toward you.”
“You don’t think I’m capable of being threatening?”
“I just mean because you’re so handsome.”
“I know what you meant.” He pulled the cloth off his shoulder and flung it across his knee. “Put your foot here,” he said, patting his leg.
He dried her foot with gentle care. She bit her lip as he did the same thing to her other foot. Her limbs were turning to jelly. In fact, her entire body was jellified at this point.
Holy Crap. The Devil Duke just washed my feet.
“Come on!” Charlotte hollered from the table. “I’m not waiting! I’ll eat every last morsel and there’ll be nothing left for you lot!”
They exchanged an amused glance.
“I’m going away for a few days. I have business in London. We will not see each other before the wedding. You have everything you need?”
“Uh, huh. I’ll try to be good…I swear.”
He gave her a slow grin.
Total friggin’ swoon out.
He was probably just trifling with her—as the Devil Duke was wont to do. Still, Izzy felt on top of the world.
Three days without him would be excruciating.
Chapter Ten
Holy Crap, I’m getting married.
Was this really happening? Was she really in England marrying Trevor Barrington, the Devil Duke of Devoy? It all seemed like a crazy dream. He waited at the end of the aisle for her, looking as handsome as ever in a black morning suit and tails. The ceremony was a blur. The only thing that seemed real was the warmth of his hand on hers when he led her out of the church. They stood on the stone steps of the church, a soft sprinkle of fragrant daisy petals perfumed the air around them. Photos were snapped of the resplendent Duke as he led his young bride to their wedding reception.
If the day was a whirl, then dinner sent Izzy reeling. There was no time to breathe let alone eat and or drink. She followed the Duke around the room as he greeted their guests. She plastered a smile on her face while he did all the work. Besides the vows spoken in the church, the two had not exchanged words since he had left three days ago. She hoped she was playing her part well enough. She tried to stand up straight (just like Archie had taught her) and she kept her hands clasped behind her back so she wouldn’t fidget.
Later, she danced with Charlotte. The girl laughed as Isabel twirled her in circles.
“May I cut in?”
At last the newlyweds faced each other on the dance floor. Everything froze around them.
“Dance with your wife, Daddy. I’m going for a glass of champagne.”
“All right, darling,” he answered absently. “Wait a minute. Did she say she was going for champagne?”
Isabel chuckled softly. “I think so.”
“Today was a lot to handle. You did well.”
“I didn’t chew gum or get drunk, right? I guess that’s an improvement.”
He cast an admiring eye over her. She resembled a pristine figurine in the couture wedding gown.
Improvement indeed.
“You acted with perfect decorum. What do you think of the party? It’s your wedding, you know?”
“My make-believe wedding, you mean.”
“Shall we dance?”
She placed her hand on his shoulder. The six carat Asher cut diamond glittered boldly in the light. “This ring…is friggin’ outrageous.”
“Mmmmmh, it is quite impressive. Too large for your little hand, I suppose.”
She gave him a lopsided grin as he led her in a weightless waltz. “It might tip me over.”
“I’ve got a hold on you. I won’t let you topple. ”
“I love dancing with you. It’s the first thing I’ve been able to with my body that didn’t turn out to be a complete disaster.”
Trevor was ashamed that her words produced a carnal stirring. He wondered what else he could teach her to do with her body that wouldn’t be a complete disaster. They were married, after all.
Don’t even think about it, old chap.
To even entertain such a notion was utterly outrageous. Apparently, he was having some sort of midlife crisis. While in London, he had wondered what she was doing in his great, big house without him. His mind had been distracted by frivolous thoughts, such as what kind of underwear she might be wearing that day and how she managed to taste like sugar biscuits.
He didn’t know what he enjoyed most about her, her guileless expressions or her silly, unsophisticated way of speaking. He was bored with good breeding and fine manners. The beautiful women in his lofty social circle held little interest for him. This unconventional girl was the only one who could keep him awake these days.
The crowd separated them and she was swept up in the throng. The Duke reached out to take a hold of her, but it was too late—his elfin bride was lost in an ocean of guests.
Bloody vultures—they’ve stolen her from me.
He saw the top of her dark head and stepped out onto the terrace. Trevor cut his way through the twirling couples, making his way to the veranda. His gaze raked the landscape.
“Where the bloody hell has she gone?”
Sir Archibald was immediately at his side. “I saw her headed toward the garden, Your Grace. Lady Charlotte was trailing after her.”
In the dist
ance, a snippet of ivory train disappeared behind the hedge row. He snatched a bottle of champagne and two glasses and went after her. The Duke strode across the lawn, feeling an overwhelming desire to be alone with the girl he had just married under false pretenses. He found her sitting on a stone bench, tucked in amongst the lush shrubbery and fragrant blooms. His daughter was curled up next to her fast asleep.
“May I enter your fairy bower?”
She nodded shyly and he stepped in.
“I see Charlotte has overdone it on the drink.”
With a gentle smile, he lifted the limp girl against him and carried her toward the lawn. Archibald was there to gather the girl up and take her to bed. Trevor turned his attention back to his stand in duchess. He knew he should turn on his heel and leave her there, but he couldn’t bear the idea of walking away. The pull toward her was too great to deny. He took a seat next to her and expertly popped the cork. He poured two flutes full and handed her one.
Izzy peered into the bottom of the glass with some apprehension. “Remember what happened last time I had too much champagne?”
“Ah, yes—your rare allergy. I’ve already had too much,” he confessed. “You may as well catch up. Besides, it’s our wedding night. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if you were to try to take advantage of me.”
“Very funny, so what happens now?”
“We go on our honeymoon—have a few pictures snapped. After that we will be done for a while and you will be released from indentured servitude. I know you haven’t exactly enjoyed your time here.”
“That’s not completely true. I’ll miss…I’ll miss Charlotte when I’m gone.”
“She’ll miss you as well. She likes you very much. She doesn’t take to people very easily.”
“I think it’s cool the way you just let her run wild.”
“I figure I’ve put her through enough. If she wants to curse and run like a boy, I’ll let her. You as well, I’ve completely surrendered to your rowdy ways. I’ve decided to lie down and let you lot walk all over me—partners in bloody crime, the two of you.”
“She’s a neat kid.”
“When her mother left, she made me suffer for a while, but she seems happier since you’ve arrived.”
“She just wants someone to play with.”
“She will make me suffer again when you go. Anyway, it’s not time for you to leave just yet.”
Izzy heaved a forlorn sigh. “No, I guess not.”
The thought of being parted from him caused her heart to sink. She hadn’t even thought about the money and how different her life would be now. He had dominated her universe for the last few weeks and she wouldn’t want it any other way.
Not ever.
She rose and walked over to the rose trellis. An abundant spray of pink blossoms grew across it. She played with a tiny bud, not knowing what to say. She could hear the romantic music from inside and the tinkling of glasses in the distance. Shouldn’t he be inside with his guests, instead of here with her?
He moved toward her. “That dress becomes you.”
“I know you have very specific ideas about ladies’ fashion.”
“Don’t be cheeky. I mean it—you’re a living doll tonight.”
The heat of his body radiated toward her. The wall of flowers pressed into her back. He was a wall too—a very handsome wall. The garden’s natural perfume mixed with his cologne, scenting the night air with an intoxicating aroma. Why was he standing so close to her? Her knees were getting all mushy. Hadn’t he learned that she fainted when he got this close to her? His languorous gaze dropped to the antique lace work of her bodice. She bit her lip when he began to trace the delicate design with the tip of his finger.
“Tomorrow photographs of our wedding will be plastered across the front page of every newspaper. The entire world will see you in this dress and know how exquisite you are.”
She had never been called exquisite before, and certainly not by anyone who looked like him.
“Well, um…it’s a good thing I didn’t spill ketchup down the front of it then.” Was it just her imagination, or were his fingers brushing dangerously close to the tops of her breasts. “I do that a lot…spill stuff.”
He lifted his hand from her chest, cupping the side of her face. “You have no idea, do you?”
She blinked at him. “No idea about what?”
“Just how appealing you are.”
She rolled her big eyes. “Yeah, right—I’m ‘cute as a button.’”
Trevor wondered when that particular habit had become so adorable. “I see why they are taken with you—the public, I mean. I’m taken with you as well.”
“As if.”
“You don’t believe me?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
“You’re a beguiling little creature. Seeing you in this dress makes me want to kiss you again—very badly.”
“You mean like a French kiss?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“Well, um…there’s like pecks and smacks.”
“I wanted to kiss you the other day but Charlotte threw me off. I won’t be swayed this time.”
“I think you’ve lost your marbles, Your Grace.”
His fingers sifted through the short pixie locks curling around her ears. “You’re quite pretty in white, aren’t you?”
“Me—pretty? No way, I’m a mess.”
“Have you been this pretty all along,” he breathed. “Or is it just this bloody dress?”
“Maybe it’s the tailoring—it’s haaaaand maaaaade.”
He captured the tip of her chin in his grip, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. “Don’t use that silly voice—not now.”
The smirk melted off her face and she blinked a few times. “You don’t think I look like a boy anymore—or a gutter rat or whatever.”
“No, you look like an angel or a flower fairy.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I think someone must have put something in your drink—seriously. Maybe you have a champagne allergy too.”
“Can’t a chap change his mind? And there is no such thing as a champagne allergy.”
The Duke’s voice had lowered to a sensual purr. He was casting a spell over her with his magnetic eyes and the gentle caressing of his fingertips. He was coming for her—bending in close, velvety lips parted. When he kissed her, Izzy was lost to the world.
She let out a whimper and gripped his lapels. “Oh, Crap, I’m gonna black out again—you can’t do that without warning.”
“There was ample warning.”
She drooped weakly against the trellis as the Duke bent to the delicate column of her neck and sprinkled hot, open-mouthed kisses across the smooth flesh there.
“Why do you wanna kiss me anyway,” she got out. “I’m like a total spazzoid.”
“I’m not sure what that means, but I think you are rather delightful.”
“You’re giving me jelly legs.”
He smiled with male satisfaction, locking his teeth around her clavicle. When she swayed against him, he grasped her to him. The curves of her young form melted into the hard planes of his body. He kissed her again, thinking back to the way her bottom had looked peeking out of those silly knickers. He wanted to touch that tawny, smooth skin of hers, he wanted to squeeze that audacious little rump and hear her squeal. He slid his hands lower, cupping her round backside. Lust coursed through him as her supple flesh filled his palms. When he growled against her neck, she giggled a little. The girlish sound only spurred his desire.
Hungrily, he kneaded her firm bottom. “This particular feature of your anatomy is making it hard for me to reform.”
“You like my ass?”
“Very much,” he breathed. “I find it inspirational.”
She sprinkled the air with more nervous laughter. “I’m telling you, it’s those scones.”
Trevor had half a mind to lay her down on the bench and hike her wedding dress up to her ears. He was morphing into
the Devil Duke again. He was like a bloody werewolf under the full moon. Damn his urges and his tight trousers. Damn this girl with her sweet taste and her even sweeter bottom. It was all he could do not to grind himself against her.
How had this awkward girl from America become the object of his raging desire? It seemed too unlikely, but there it was throbbing in his trousers. There was something about her that he found fresh and intoxicating—too intoxicating apparently. He hungered to taste more of her. How easy it would be to tear her dress to shreds and dive face first into her silly drawers. He better put a stop to this before he lost complete control. He should know better than to toy with this girl.
It was sheer torture stepping away. The Duke cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his auburn hair. “Pardon me—this new addition to your figure has impaired my judgment. Now it is I who is acting the part of a groping sailor. You must be knackered. It’s been a very long day—you probably want to go to bed. I suppose we should stay away from the champagne in the future. I’ll say goodnight then.”
“Goodnight?” she echoed softly.
Was he kidding? Her underpants were on fire.
“I think it’s best if I walk away, don’t you?”
“Not really,” she blurted.
Her eyes and mouth were dewy. She wanted more from him. And he wanted it too, Right there against the lattice. He wanted it so bad, it hurt. He tugged on his bow tie. When she licked her lips it was all Trevor could do not to pounce on her. He better speak to the Queen about outlawing scones in Britain. If she filled out anymore, he’d be lost for sure.
“Good night then.”
“Night,” she whispered.
Izzy collapsed onto the stone bench. She raised her fingertips to her lips in disbelief.
Trevor Barrington had kissed her and fondled her ass! He had called her pretty! She was giddy with excitement—her racing heart soared high.
Holy Crap. I love him.
Maybe this was her chance. Why couldn’t he be the one to take her virginity? Wasn’t he the perfect man for the job? He was the Devil Duke, after all, wasn’t he?
It’s about time. Let’s do this thing, Your Grace.
Chapter Eleven