by Tessa Bowen
He smiled weakly. “Don’t you ever feel sorry for yourself?”
“Sorry about what?”
His finger ran over the scar at her hairline. “That there was no one there to take care of you, all those years…”
“You’re taking care of me now, aren’t you? You’re such a worrywart. You have to stop, it’s gonna give you wrinkles.”
“Is that what happens when you care about someone, you get wrinkles?”
Holy Crap. He cares about me.
“Um, yeah. I think so.”
He seemed fixated on the scar, running the pad of his finger over the raised bit of flesh again and again. “The best thing I ever did was put that woman behind bars,” he muttered absently.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes lowered guiltily to the surface of the bath water.
“What…what did you do?”
“It’s getting a bit hot in here, shall we get out? I’m turning rather pinkish.”
“Tell me what you did!”
“Let’s not talk about this anymore, all right?”
“Did you have something done to Mrs. O’Leary?”
“I took care of it. She won’t be hurting any more children.”
Isabel’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You mean…like you ‘took care of it’ mafia style?”
“Of course not—everything I did was legal. I made a few phone calls, the lawyers and investigators took care of the rest.”
“Is she in jail?”
“Yes, and she will stay there for a very long time.”
Isabel collapsed against the back of the tub. “Holy Crap.”
“I couldn’t rest after hearing the stories you told me. I hope you aren’t angry with me for interfering.”
“I’m not angry.”
“I don’t want you to ever have to think about that woman again.” He trailed off, looking very uncomfortable.
Izzy pushed through the water and laid a hand across his chest. “Okay, I won’t then. Not ever.”
He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “Oh, dear—I might get those wrinkles, mightn’t I?”
“You’d still be hot with wrinkles.”
He pointed out the deep ridge there under his chin. “I have a scar too, you know?”
“What happened?”
“I stole my father’s prize stallion when I was twelve (after he told me I would never be a good enough rider to handle such an animal). I rode it like the wind and the temperamental beast threw me over a bloody fence. My father told me he’d wished I’d broken my neck—that was the only way I would ever learn to obey him. Then he forbade me to go near the stables.”
“How did you become such a good rider? If he barred you from the stables, I mean. I saw you playing polo, you were amazing. Archie said you even went to the Olympics.”
“As I told you before, I defied him every chance I got. I stole that stallion twenty more times before I learned to ride him properly. It took me years to become one with that animal, but I finally did and what a beautiful and exciting creature he turned out to be. Riding him was an unparalleled thrill. I rode that bloody stallion all day, every day, (which put my father in a fitful rage.) The beast wouldn’t even let the old man near him. He even bit him once—hard on the hand—broke the skin. I swear he did it because my father was shouting at me. My mother said I had charmed the stubborn animal with my good looks.”
“She was probably right.”
“I highly doubt it, horses don’t think like that. I think he recognized in me a kindred spirit. We were both bred to be the best, but our rebellious natures got in the way.”
“What happened to the stallion?”
“He came to a sad end, I’m afraid.” The Duke’s gaze shifted to a faraway place. “I rode him too hard. It was like a sickness in me, this thrill seeking this…getting carried away, as you put it. I rode him until his leg snapped. An animal like that—bred for speed is rendered useless once he suffers an injury of that magnitude.”
“Couldn’t he heal over time?”
“Perhaps, but he would never run like he had before. It was a very bad break. Anyway, my father put a bullet in his brain and that was the end of that.”
“That’s awful. What a terrible thing to do.”
“My recklessness was responsible for ending that gorgeous creature’s life. Just as well, really. He was meant to thunder across the earth, not slouch in some stable all bloodied and broken.”
Izzy caressed the hard line of his jaw, fluttering her fingertip over the raised bit of flesh.
“You have this to remember him by.”
“Yes…do you know what my father said to me when I won my first Olympic medal?”
“No, what?”
Trevor shook his head and issued forth a dry, hollow laugh. “‘Not bad for a horse thief.’ I was never able to win his admiration. Everyone else’s…but not his.”
Isabel’s heart sank but she didn’t have the words to comfort him, so she pressed a kiss against the scar.
“Are you through with your bath and your dessert, little duchess? We will be swimming in ice cream soon.”
He took the gelato container and spoon away from her and rose out of the tub. Izzy stepped into his embrace and allowed him to dry her body. Then he carried her to the bed and tucked her in. The towel fell away and he blotted her hair with it, tossing it on the floor.
“You’re making quite a mess tonight, Your Grace. Water and towels on the floor—sticky ice cream containers scattered everywhere...”
“You’ve rubbed off on me.”
His towel went the way of hers. Izzy sighed in satisfaction as his naked body filled the bed next to her. She nestled closer to him. “You smell so good.”
A tiny voice gnawed away at her. Would it always be like this between them, or was it just for now? Would she too be shattered by this beautiful man, a broken piece in his pile of rubble? This couldn’t last forever, could it? She forgot her fears when his lips brushed over hers in a soft kiss.
“Can we have another lesson…?” she murmured sleepily.
“Haven’t you ahead enough lessons for one day, sweet girl?”
“I want one more before I go to sleep. Please…Trevor…?”
This time when he made love to her it was with a slow, gentle touch. He worshipped and adored her with his body, hands and mouth. Izzy looked away from his intense gaze as he took his time, gliding into her. She reeled from the potency of his touch; her soul felt scorched by the wild blue flames in his eyes. She thought of him as a young, copper-haired youth, riding across his father’s lands. Her fingers brushed over the sprinkling of freckles on his strong shoulders. She screwed her eyes shut as her heart burst with love for him.
“Why can’t you look at me?” he asked hotly.
“You’re too beautiful—I can’t take it.”
“Look at me, Isabel. I want to be lost in your eyes.”
Tremulously, she obeyed him. He reached between their bodies and touched the silken base of her arousal. Biting her lip, she shuddered against his fingertips. Her wondrous body dripped honey nectar into his palm as she climaxed with a sweet, broken cry.
“I love watching you reach your peak,” he told her throatily.
She hid her face in the crook of her arm. “Oh…Crap—I’m embarrassed now.”
“Don’t be. You’re lovely, my darling.”
Izzy panted as the convulsions of ecstasy subsided.
My darling. He called me his friggin’ darling!
“I love how…” she gulped a big shaky breath and continued. “…even when you talk dirty, you are like super polite.”
“I don’t have to be polite. I could say something discourteous if you want me too.”
“You could?”
“You’ll be shocked,” he warned. “I’m a filthy lout.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The words he whispered in her ear sent a thrill shooting through her entire body. Eyes bulgi
ng, she slapped her hand over her mouth.
“I told you, you’d be shocked.”
His hips worked hard against her as he sunk his teeth into the side of her neck. She wrapped her legs tight around him, meeting his thrusts. She could tell he was close. He gripped the side of her face and grimaced, stifling a moan.
“Make lots of noise,” she demanded lustily. “I like when you groan.”
“I’m English, remember?” he hissed gratingly. “We don’t groan—we grit our teeth and tighten our jaw.”
He was doing just that and Izzy felt the devil run through her. It took all of her might, but she pushed him off and knelt at his side.
He fell back on the bed in surprise. “What the bloody hell?”
Before he could react, she bent over him and took the hard length of him into her mouth. He wheezed and bucked like she was hurting him but intuitively she knew she wasn’t. His fingers dug into her shoulders as she sucked him, swirling her tongue around the velvety head of his long staff.
“Good, Lord,” he choked. “I didn’t mean for you to do it now!”
The Duke thrashed as she had her way with him. Lurching upward, he issued forth an ungentlemanly curse mixed with the loudest of groans. His pent up passion erupted in a salty tidal wave, his body shook with convulsions.
Izzy sat on top of him grinning as he tried to recover. She jabbed him in the ribs. “You made lots of noise after all.”
“You had me howling like a wounded animal.” His chest rose and fell as he fought for breath. He blew a long sigh and rolled her beneath him. Their bodies stuck together all damp and warm. He traced her swollen lips with his fingertip. “Where did you learn how to do that? You must have skipped ahead in Professor Barrington’s lesson book.”
“I’m self-taught.”
“Well, you’re a real natural. Now that I know you can do that, I fear we will never leave this room again.”
Chapter Seventeen
Devoy
It did not take long for the staff to surmise that something was very different between the Duke and Duchess of Devoy. They seemed fascinated with one another, barely acknowledging the servants who grinned and exchanged winks behind their backs. The two laughed at an inside joke as they hurried up the steps. Even Sir Archibald (who was always discreet) found it hard not to stare at the couple as they bantered with one another.
“Welcome back, Your Grace and er…Your Grace. I trust your time in Venice was well spent.”
The Duke smiled at his new wife whose cheeks were tinged a telltale pink. “It was well spent indeed, Archie. Where is my freckled bundle?”
Charlotte, looking a little somber dragged her teddy bear down the hall. “Here I am, Daddy.”
“Why the long face?”
“It was bloody horrid of you two to leave me here all alone—I was terribly bored. I had no one to play with.”
“We were only gone a few days, dearest.”
Izzy knelt in front of the girl and tweaked the bear’s arm. “Didn’t Bernie keep you company while we were away?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know the first thing about playing dancing fairies. He has no bloody rhythm. Can Isabel and I go dance in the garden, Daddy?
“It’s getting dark, my darling, and it’s almost time for dinner.”
Selfishly, he wanted to be alone with his bride before they went down to dinner, but it seemed his daughter wanted the same thing. Trevor could not resist the two sets of big eyes staring up at him and gave in with a nod and a smile.
“Go ahead.” Izzy whispered to her ringleted cohort. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
Charlotte was off in a flash, scampering noisily down the hall.
“See to it she puts a jumper on—and a jacket. The nights are getting chilly.”
Sir Archibald sprang into action, doing his best to catch up with the girl. When the two were alone again, the Duke backed Isabel up against the heavy velvet curtains.
“Don’t leave me, sweet girl. Not yet.”
“I have to go teach Bernie how to dance.”
“He is a licentious rake, that Bernie.”
Isabel’s head lolled against the window pane as he caressed the side of her neck. “He learned it from you.”
“Two toffee-nosed old bores are coming to dinner tonight, the insufferable Lord Timsdale and Lord Marlborough—friends of my father’s, I apologize in advance.”
“Do I have to be there? I won’t know how to talk to them.”
“I won’t survive the night without you. Please come.” His hands slid down to cup her breasts. “Damn that Bernie. He means to steal you away from me, I know it.”
“I can’t believe you’re jealous of a teddy bear.”
“I’m put out that I can’t take you to my room and have my way with you before dinner. My trousers are impossibly tight.” He pressed his lustful body against hers, grinding her against the window pane. “I’m carrying the son of Godzilla around in my trunks.”
She smacked at him playfully. “You’re such a dirty old duke!”
“I’ll rip that bloody bear’s head clean off if he touches you.”
Isabel snorted with laughter and quickly covered her hand with her mouth. “Oops, I oinked. I know how you hate that.”
“Oink away, my darling. Come to the bedroom with me…come now.”
She held him off. “I have to go! I’ll come to your bedroom later to oink.”
“And boink, I hope?”
“Charlotte’s waiting,” she giggled “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“I’m going to watch your backside while you walk away so that I may be inspired.”
She ran down the hall, covering her fanny with her hands. “Weirdo pervert!”
IZZY DRESSED IN AN ELEGANT AUBERGINE colored sheath and patent leather heels for dinner. She smoothed her hand over the fabric and smiled at her reflection.
I’m almost a friggin’ swan.
She had learned a lot since she had been here, how to dress like a lady for one. The young woman staring back at her in the mirror smirked. She certainly hadn’t learned to act like a lady however. Still, she had learned many other things—many sinful and delicious things. She felt the familiar tugging between her legs. Her hands flew to her flaming cheeks.
Holy Crap, Professor Barrington has turned me into a sex maniac!
Insecurity gnawed away at her on the plane ride over. They were leaving the magic of Venice, and reentering the real world. She worried things wouldn’t stay the same between them, but she was delighted to find his desire for her was as ardent as ever.
Her heart skipped a crazy beat. Tonight she would crawl into bed with him and be enslaved by his masterly caresses once again.
I can’t wait.
She jumped when she heard a knock at the door. To her surprise and horror, it was not Archie or Lily the maid, but the Baroness. The dream that was Venice shattered into a million little shards of glass, pricking at her insides. If Izzy had felt sophisticated in the slim-fitting dark purple dress a minute ago, now she felt drab and foolish standing before the statuesque, perfectly coiffed woman. Her champagne colored evening gown set off her magnificent figure and her shimmering hair was brushed back into an elegant bun.
The Baroness craned her pale swan neck. “Hello, Isabel.”
Izzy’s brows came together. “Hi.”
What the frig’ is she doing here!
The question raged in her churning mind as the Baroness moved toward her with ease and grace. She placed her cool fingertips on Izzy’s shoulders and turned her to face the mirror. Her image was reflected in the glass—her pale, glowing beauty mocked her.
“You look so pretty. Love will do that to a woman—make her prettier. And you’ve certainly made our boy very happy. He’s positively radiating.”
“You…aren’t upset?”
The Baroness laughed lightly. “Heavens, no. Trevor has never been a one woman man. (I should know). I’ve been trying to win his heart since we were teenagers.
I’ve watched him turn away a veritable parade of women over the years, each one more beautiful than the next.”
Isabel shifted in her high heels. “I think things are different now.”
“Oh, my dear girl, there will always be others—many, many others. He will never change. Women with much more talent have attempted to sway him and failed.”
“Talent?”
“We will work together to keep him happy. No doubt he likes your youthful exuberance, but I know all his quirks and kinks, of which there are many. I know it may be hard to hear, but I’m only telling you this for your own good. You are so terribly young. I don’t want him to ruin you—crush your spirit as it were. Accept what he is, or you will be damaged beyond repair.”
Isabel stepped away, swallowing the rising bile in her throat. She felt suddenly very sick. Adrenaline raced through her, a cold sweat broke out on her forehead and her mind raced. He wouldn’t do that to her, would he? Draw her in with his sweet words and tender kisses, only to leave her lying broken in the trail of female cast-offs.
Why wouldn’t he? He was the Devil Duke, after all.
“His wife was like you—tender-hearted. She couldn’t bear the constant philandering.”
“That’s not what he said,” Izzy flared defensively. “He said it was only his money she was after.”
“You can’t believe anything Trevor tells you. He acquires women like horseflesh, always adding to his stables. Fear not, he takes care of all his animals, from his finest Lipizzaners to the plainest of stock horses.”
Isabel backed away, shaking her head in denial. “You’re lying. You are just trying to mess things up between us.”
“A tiger doesn’t change his stripes. There is a reason he has no internet connection in the house. The newspapers still come in, however. I suppose he thinks someone like you would never open a paper. No matter, you will learn to live with it. The rest of us have. I’ll see you at dinner, Isabel.”
The Baroness sailed from the room, leaving Izzy alone and shaken. Was it true? Was she just one of many, another acquisition in a long line of purchases? He had bought her after all, hadn’t he? He was paying her a million dollars so he could take her through his entire ‘sex manual’ step by step.