The Devil Duke: A Nobility Love Triangle Romance (The Demon Duchess Series Book 1)

by Tessa Bowen

  Izzy rushed across the lawn and into the house, excitement pumping hot in her veins. She sidestepped people in the crowd and passed through the ballroom just in time to see him round the corner at the end of the hall. She moved as fast as she could in the constricting gown. She had no idea what she would say to him when she caught up with him. She only knew that this was her chance and she was going to take it. By some miracle he had wanted her for a moment. Which meant it was possible he could want her again. He had told her she was lovely and had groaned with male hunger only moments ago. She didn’t know much, but she knew what that sound meant. Obviously, he had gone totally nuts to desire a spastic dork like her, but did it really matter? Even if he had lost his marbles, what did she care? She planned on taking full advantage of his temporary insanity.

  She made out a light from his study. She tried to pick up the pace, but the snug dress held her back, forcing her to take tiny, mincing steps. Izzy thought about ripping off the damned thing and yelling down the hallway, “Devirginize me, Your Grace! My underpants are on fire!”

  She smothered a hysterical giggle as she stumbled into the room. The Baroness stood next to the Duke. The firelight showed through her elegant pale gown, highlighting each curve and swell. She watched in horror as the Duke bent to her swan-like neck and sunk his teeth into her white flesh. His hand snaked down her back to caress her backside.

  In an attempt to flee, Izzy took a giant step backwards. The sound of fabric tearing filled the room.

  The Duke dropped his hands from the Baroness. “What the…?

  Izzy lay in a pathetic heap, her legs folded awkwardly beneath her. She tried to drag herself out of the room but the dress had her immobilized in its fine, satin clutches. She struggled furiously in an attempt to get her leg free. Her face flamed red as she choked back tears. To make matters worse, the Baroness had come to stand next to him and now they were both looking at her like she was a bug in a jar.

  “Oh, Trevor—you beast,” the Baroness chastised. “Look what you’ve gone and done.”

  Izzy shrank as the Duke bent over her. He picked her up under her arms and lifted her to her feet. She made a mad dash for the staircase but the dress was impossible to move in.

  “Isabel!” He called out sharply. “Where are you going? Come back here!”

  She yanked the skirt of the dress all the way up over her knees and took the steps two at a time. The Duke was hot on her heels. She tried to push the door closed on him, but she was no match for his strength. With a curse, he crashed into the room. They scowled and wheezed at each other like two wary animals.

  “What the bloody hell are you on about? Are you crying?”

  Izzy sniffed back a sob. “No! I’m not friggin’ crying!”

  “Why did you run away like that?”

  “Why do you think!”

  You never should have touched her, old man. Look what you have gone and done. You’ve made the flower fairy cry.

  “I think it’s time you got some new moves— I mean you’re friggin’ unbelievable! Everything they say about you is true. You had your hands on my ass not five minutes ago!”

  The flower fairy isn’t crying anymore, she is spitting mad now.

  “I mean you’re such a weirdo pervert!” she raged on. “Why don’t you make up your mind whose ass you are going to fondle! Seriously, you should be more careful, you know. You can’t just go around looking the way you do and touching girls whenever you want. Don’t you know what will happen?”

  “No, but I have a feeling I’m about to be enlightened on the matter.”

  “They will fall in love with you, just like I have!”

  He drew back as if she had slapped him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s already happened, you asshole!”

  “What has happened?”

  “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  “Why would you go and do a thing like that, you silly girl?”

  Izzy gave a harsh laugh. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? I never had a chance. God, why did you have to kiss me up against the roses? Now I’m a total goner.”

  “You kissed me first—that night at the ball.”

  “I was drunk!”

  “Well, perhaps I’m a bit drunk now—loopy, isn’t that what you would say?”

  “I thought you said there was no such thing as a champagne allergy.”

  “There isn’t,” he said between his teeth.

  “Something has eaten your brain. I mean why did you flirt with me just now? You have way hotter women to fool around with and they’re lined up around the friggin’ block—or waiting downstairs for you in your sex den like the Baroness.”

  “It’s not a bloody sex den, it’s a library.”

  “Why did you have to say all that sweet stuff to me?”

  “I suppose…I rather like you, don’t I?”

  She gave him a long, hard look. “You can’t just go grabbing every girl you like! You touched my ass—your hands were all over it! You squeezed it and rubbed it! And then you came slinking in here and touched her ass too!”

  He jammed a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t well done of me—I have a problem grabbing ladies bottoms when I’m not supposed to, or haven’t you heard? And I didn’t really slink it was more of a stalking action.”

  “I’m not a friggin’ lady and my ass isn’t up for grabs.”

  “No…you’re no lady. You are something else entirely….”

  Izzy’s eyes narrowed. “Something else entirely...like…what do you mean?”

  “I don’t know what I mean.”

  “You weren’t going to call me a flower fairy again, were you?”

  “No,” he lied. “I wasn’t”

  “Do you really like me?”

  “Yes, apparently I need my head examined.”

  “Great,” Izzy said morosely. “I’ve fallen in love with the Devil Duke, his Royal Weirdo Pervyness and he likes me. You probably really are a sex addict. You’ve got some weirdo fairy fetish, is that it?”

  “Bloody hell,” he shot off irritably. “These days a fellow can’t even have red blood pumping through his veins without being called a sex addict. And I’m not a pervert or a fetishist. In fact, I’m a bloody duke.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Your Grace.”

  “This is just a schoolgirl crush, nothing more. In fact, you remind me very much of a girlfriend I had at Eton when I was about fifteen. She badgered me until she was blue in the face (she thought she was in love with me as well, you see). Trust me, you’ll get over it, she certainly did—married a French industrialist I think…”

  “I wish you’d stop rambling. Anyway, you’re wrong. I’ve never felt like this before.”

  “You are very young. You can’t know what you are saying.”

  She leapt toward him and pushed him with all of her might. “I know how I feel and I know what I’m saying! I’m in love with you and you’re a friggin’ asshole!”

  The Duke stumbled backward, shaking a finger at her. “You are supposed to be doing a job—not falling in love.”

  “I have done my job just fine! You’re the one feeling up your employees and flirting with them when you aren’t supposed to.”

  He knew she was right, but found himself sinking to her level. “You started it. Always prancing around half-dressed and you bloody pounced on me the other night. You can’t become infatuated with me, we have work to do.”

  “You better get super fat quick or like a big, prosthetic nose or really thick glasses or something, ’cause you are way too hot—I can’t take it!”

  He broke up with laughter but quickly straightened himself when her black brows came together in a ferocious glare.

  “Don’t make fun of me, this sucks—to be in love with someone you can’t have. Why do you have to be such a good kisser? Now it’s all I can think about.”

  It seemed it was all he could think of as well. He found her flavor irresistible. The taste of her seemed t
o linger on his tongue even now. The truth was that the feel of her teensy bum had made his trousers so tight that he had hunted down another woman and attacked her like some sort of an animal.

  She licked her lips and spoke again. “I want…I want…”

  “Yes, Isabel… what do you want?”

  “I want…to do stuff with you.”

  “Stuff, you say?”

  “Yeah, stuff.”

  “Are you suggesting that we actually go to bed together?”

  “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Go to bed with women—I mean you are supposed to be like an authority on sex, right? I mean we are in the bedroom, after all. There is a bed right friggin’ here.”

  Nostrils flaring, the Duke stared hard at the over-sized, red velvet bed. It seemed to pulsate, as if it were alive and coursing with blood—much like his swollen male part. He tore his eyes from it and stared hard at the floral pattern in the carpet.

  “I cannot take you to bed, Isabel.”

  “Okay, so you don’t want to do it in a bed. Let’s go back to the garden then. I’ll lift my dress up—”

  “Bloody hell,” he interrupted with a wince of pain. “Don’t say another word. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”

  He was going to need bigger trousers made if she kept talking like this.

  “I mean if you have sex thirty times a day it seems like you could fit me into your schedule and make it thirty one.”

  “I don’t have a ‘schedule’ for sex. And you must realize it would be humanly impossible to complete that act thirty times a day.”

  “I thought you were ‘insatiable’ and that you had a ‘voracious appetite.’ That’s what they say about you, anyway.”

  “You make me sound like some monster gobbling up women like tiny morsels.”

  “I’m a flower fairy remember. I thought you found me raaaaather delightful.”

  “I did—I do.”

  She crossed her arms impatiently. “So are we gonna do it, or what?”

  He stiffened his spine, looking quite affronted. “I’m not a hired bloody stud you know. Besides, you shouldn’t want me anymore—I’m a cad.”

  “Yeah, but you are a really good kisser. And you give me jelly legs when you say sexy stuff. I’d still do it with you even though I think you’re an asshole.” She tossed her head. “It’s just sex.”

  “You’re not very romantic are you?”

  “God, do you want me to buy you a dozen long stem red roses or what? So, that’s it? No sex?”

  “No—no sex! My word, you are a brazen girl!”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right,” she snorted. “You’ve sworn off sex.”

  “I didn’t bloody say that. I’ve sworn off any sort of attachment. And you’re snorting again.”

  “Dude, you are just going to have to live with the snorting, okay? And I’m not trying to be attached to you for a lifetime or anything. I just thought we could get attached for like an hour or so.”

  He set his jaw; steam seemed to rise off the top of his head. “It would take much longer than an hour, I assure you.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be any trouble or anything. You could just get it over with real fast.”

  “That’s not how I do things, Isabel.”

  His voice was a low rumble and his nostrils opened and closed sort of like a fire-breathing dragon.

  “Um…it’s not?”

  “Come now, do you really think the Devil Duke earned his notoriety by ‘getting it over real fast’?” He allowed his gaze to travel over her body in a slow, suggestive manner. “It would take all night and into the morning…”

  She backed away from him. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Looking at me like I’m lunch. And you’re doing that stalking thing too. You can’t do that unless you’re gonna put out.”

  “Put out?”

  “You know—throw down.”

  “Come again?”

  “Do it with me!”

  With a curse, he tore his eyes away from her. What a mess had he’d gotten himself into with this girl—and how would he ever get out of it? Perhaps he was better off roaming the world, stacking up sexual partners like cord wood. Being a country gentleman was proving harder than he had anticipated.

  Much, much harder.

  Anxiously, he tugged on his collar. “Bloody hell, I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Whatever, I guess I’m not your type. Don’t touch me again unless you intend to finish what you started—got it?”

  “Message bloody received.”

  She wasn’t his type, damn it. Yet, any second his worsted wool slacks would split to make room for his tyrannosaurus rex sized erection. She turned her back on him, presenting him with her rounded backside. If he was a little more of an idiot he would knock her down to the carpet and punish that bottom of hers with the back of his hand, then he would shag the impudent remarks right out of her, all night and into the morning… and into the next night and the next morning…and on and on until there was nothing left of her but a wet spot and a whimper.

  “Anyway, you’re old enough to be my father.”

  That loosened his trouser right up. “Not bloody quite.”

  She threw a nasty glare over her shoulder. “Close enough. Do the math, genius.”

  “You didn’t think I was bloody over the hill a minute ago when you propositioned me for sex.”

  She started fidgeting with the concealed zipper on the back of her gown. “Okay, maybe you aren’t totally over the hill but you’re close to forty, I can tell. You’re kinda crinkly around the eyes.

  “I’ve had quite enough of your insults for one night,” the Duke fumed.

  “Will you help me with this friggin’ zipper before you go? The chick practically sewed me into it.”

  The zip was half way down, splitting the back of the dress to reveal the tawny skin of her back. If he were to give the metal tongue a tug, the fabric would spread wide and expose her to her delectable crack. If he caught a glimpse of those plump little cheeks he’d surely fall to his knees.

  Her entire body shimmied as she struggled with the zipper. “If you aren’t gonna have sex with me then get out!”

  She was the rudest girl he had ever met, yet every word out of her mouth excited him. Somehow he found the strength to turn the knob on the door. He prayed he would make it out to the hallway before his trousers gave out. The tall, perfectly built woman waiting for him in the library could do little to quell his lust.

  He wondered what might—perhaps a good clock over the head with a polo mallet.

  Chapter Twelve

  It took all of the Duke’s willpower not to pop his cork. He had enlisted the aid of three whiskies, poured neat. It was shockingly early in the evening to be this tight. His “wife” was on her hands and knees in the blasted flower bed scrounging around with the gardener. Charlotte had gotten in on it too. Covered in dirt from head to toe, the two frolicked together while the attractive young groundskeeper looked on.

  “We’re playing Mud Fairies, Daddy!”

  The Duke’s voice thundered across the lawn. “Go inside and wash up for bed.”

  The girl jumped to attention, knowing better than to tangle with her father when he was in this sort of mood. The other mud fairy didn’t have as much sense and threw a smirk over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the gardener.

  They appeared to be planting bulbs, but it was obviously some new form of flirting with the younger generation. She waved a little trowel around, laughing uproariously at something the dark-haired youth said. Her laughter was like shards of glass, pricking at his ear drums. Trevor seethed, wondering what cheeky thing he had said to her. He was terribly young—this gardener. Much younger than he was, that was for sure.

  She had called him out on his behavior last night, berated him for not taking her to bed, and now she had the audacity to work her fey charms on the bloody help, and right in front of him. He kne
w enough to know she was doing it on purpose. He should be smarter and not play this childish game. If only he had been born a smarter less handsome man then he wouldn’t find himself in such a pickle. On the other hand, if he was so bloody handsome then why was he sitting there like a clod while she made love with his servant in the flower bed?

  “Your young bride is quite a rowdy little thing,” the Baroness remarked over her glass of wine.

  Trevor tapped his fingers on the table top as servants cleared their al fresco dinner. “Yes, positively raucous.”

  “What on earth is she wearing?”

  “I assure you, it’s nothing I bought her.”

  “It’s quite horrid, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  The tartan plaid skirt was pleated in the front like a schoolgirl’s and was far too short. The schoolgirl association proved to both disturb and excite him. He found the outstretched tongue on the front of her Rolling Stones t-shirt even more offensive than the big red apple with the bite taken out of it. She wore knee-high rubber boots that left the tops of her thighs exposed. The look (though ridiculous) was strangely provocative and put him in the mood for some good old-fashioned role playing, naughty-girl-gets-spanked-by-professor etc.

  Trevor shifted under the patio table attempting to make room in the crotch of his tightening trousers. He wasn’t really old enough to be her father, was he? He supposed he was, if he took his age and subtracted her age and then put it up against the age he was when he had started his illustrious career in the bedroom.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I’m a relic. I need another drink.”

  “I think you’ve had quite enough, don’t you?”

  Trevor shot the Baroness a glare, sinking down low in his seat like a petulant child.

  “I can see you have your hands full here, Trevor dear. Shall I go upstairs and get ready for bed as well?”

  He gave her a sulky nod.

  The Baroness rose from the table and sunk her long fingers into the auburn hair at the back of his neck. Bending low, she pressed her lips to his ear. “Perhaps you should come help me off with my clothes?”

  Trevor recoiled in annoyance. “You can manage it, can’t you?”