The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart: Thieves of Desire Book 1

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “Just the cravat?” he asked teasingly, although his eyes flashed.

  “Your boots most certainly have to go.”

  “Certainly.”

  He crouched down and swiftly unlaced them, kicking them off before holding out a hand to her. “Your slippers.”

  “Very well,” she said, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth as he slid them off slowly and sensuously.

  She continued to instruct him until he was clad in only his breeches, and she swallowed as she stared at him, tracing a line down the indent between his muscles.

  “I feel rather underdressed,” Jonathan said, stepping toward her.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Perhaps by dressing a slight bit more informally yourself,” he said, sliding his hands along her side before slipping them behind her, finding her buttons and pushing them through the small hooks.

  She arched into him, allowing him to do so, until the dress pooled at her feet in a white silk waterfall.

  “No stays,” she said, lifting her hands. “Rather informal, wouldn’t you think?”

  Jonathan didn’t answer her, his ability to speak apparently having fled as he took her in his arms and kissed her, lavishing her with his tongue, his lips, promising her forever and more.

  Calli nearly dissolved at his touch, losing all her thought as he tugged her backward toward the bed behind her, before laying her down upon it.

  They broke from one another to divest themselves of the rest of their clothing before she scooted backward on the bed and they continued their loving exploration.

  Whereas the last time had been a discovery of one another and shock at the fiery explosion that had erupted between them, now it was a demand for more, along with the knowledge that this was not the last time — it was only the beginning.

  Jonathan readied her with his mouth, his fingers, until Calli was writhing beneath him, desperate for more, for all that he could offer her.

  And finally when he entered her, she wrapped her arms around him, knowing she was complete, that she had found herself and her purpose.

  As they came together in joyous celebration, she knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again — and she couldn’t be happier about it.

  Epilogue

  Calli sat on the edge of the picnic blanket, watching as Matthew and Mary ran around in circles, arms outstretched as they lifted their faces to the sun.

  She and Jonathan shared a smile.

  “You’re happy here?” he asked, his arm coming around her, and she leaned back into him.

  “Of course,” she said, tilting her head back lazily to look up at him, “I’m happy wherever you are.”

  “But here, in Kent, away from London,” he insisted, “you’re not bored?”

  “On the contrary,” she said. “The children seem much freer here, more themselves. I find inspiration everywhere. And I have much more time with my husband.”

  Jonathan smiled ruefully, and Calli placed a hand on his knee, knowing that look.

  “Don’t apologize, Jonathan. I know that you have many responsibilities.”

  “I do,” he acknowledged. “But you, Mary, and Matthew, will always come first. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she said. “But you need to find room for more.”

  “What do you mean?” he said, frowning. “Nothing else could come before you.”

  “Not come before us,” she amended, “but with us.”

  She moved his hand and placed it on her stomach. “We shall have another addition to our family very soon.”

  He stilled in shock, and Calli nearly laughed at the expression on his face.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely sure,” she said. “How do you feel about it?”

  “I—I feel…” He didn’t seem to have anything else to say, and Calli did laugh this time.

  “You feel, Jonathan, and that is the most important thing.”

  He nodded slowly and Calli leaned back into him once more.

  “Have you told anyone else?” He asked. “Your family? Diana?”

  “No,” she shook her head, “You first, of course. I will tell Xander when he comes to visit.”

  That was right. Her brother was coming to stay with them for a week. That should be interesting. At least it wasn’t Arie.

  “We’ll tell Mary and Matthew first,” she said.

  Jonathan nodded as the children began to chase one another over the field. “I agree.”

  “I heard a rather interesting rumor from the magistrate’s wife down the road.”

  “Oh, did you now?”

  Calli nodded. “Apparently there has been quite the rise in thefts of Greek statues throughout London. From both private residences and public galleries.”

  “Goodness,” Jonathan murmured, “I wonder who that could be.”

  Calli studied him.

  “Did you know anything about it?”

  “When your brother and I discussed the marriage,” he said, and Calli could tell he was choosing his words carefully, “we decided that it was best he kept his… business to himself.”

  Calli frowned, for a moment not entirely pleased at being left out of such a decision. But she realized what it must mean, for Jonathan to be tied to such a family, and the position it would place both of them in for her to have knowledge that she couldn’t exactly share with him — or anyone else.

  “I think that was the right decision.”

  “You do?” Hope lit Jonathan’s eyes, and Calli realized that he had been struggling in keeping this from her.

  “I do,” she said firmly. “I will always remain close to my family, but I never wanted to be part of that side of their lives anyway. Now I can have the best of them without the rest of it.”

  Jonathan placed a kiss behind her ear, causing a tingle to run through her.

  “There’s something else.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you remember the art dealer I sent some of your paintings to?”

  “Yes.” Calli’s heart quickened.

  “He’d like to see more. He said he has buyers.”

  “He does?” Calli twisted around, trying not to allow too much hope to invade, but unable to keep it away. “Does he know that I — a woman — painted them?”

  “He does. You are a duchess so that helps things as well.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “I told him you were my wife. He said, however, his buyer has no idea of your identity — that he saw the paintings in his office and told him to ‘name the price.’ It is your work, Calli. It has nothing to do with your title or your name.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan,” she said, placing her hand in his and squeezing his fingers tight. “For everything.”

  “It is you I have to thank,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of her head, “for showing me what life is about. What love really means. What’s important.”

  She turned her head and gave him her lips.

  For he already had her heart. Her trust. Her love.

  No matter what.

  THE END

  * * *

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  A Jewel for the Taking

  Preview Xander & Juliet’s story, book 2 in the Thieves of Desire series…

  Chapter 1

  Sussex ~ 1813

  Xander danced around the outskirts of the ballroom, only his feet weren’t in time with the music.

  He caught Damien’s eye from across the room. They nodded at one another, acknowledging both the role they were playing as well as their true purpose for being here.

  A woman nudged against Xander’s side, and he murmured an apolog
y, aware that it was not his place to be knocking over guests. Only when she looked up at him from beneath fluttering lashes, Xander realized that it had not been an accident whatsoever. He flashed her an appreciate smile, but he had no time for flirting.

  Not tonight, at least.

  He lifted his tray as one of the guests placed his drink upon it, and then continued on through the room, remembering all his eldest brother, Arie, had taught him about the nobility and the role he would play as a footman in one of their houses.

  The house was owned by a man who was by no means ultimately one of the highest-ranking men of England, but one of the richest. He had, apparently, done an excellent job over the years of gathering the debts of more than one poor bloke who’d lost far too much at the gambling table. Now the baron owned half of London, most of whom were here tonight despite their lack of goodwill towards him.

  “How is the evening?” Damien asked as they passed one another, and Xander merely shrugged. He could think of other ways his night could be better spent, but there were far worse things one could be doing to make a living.

  Such as actually working as a footman, spending his life doing another man’s bidding for minimal compensation.

  No, thank you.

  If all worked out here — and he was sure it would for every one of Arie’s plans was carefully cultivated, particularly after that one disastrous night five years ago — he and his family would be even richer than they already were.

  Xander couldn’t stop his eyes from straying to the necklines of women who passed. He wasn’t focused on the ample decolletage spilling from the tops of their nearly translucent gowns, however.

  No, he was far more focused on all that sparkled above them — earrings, necklaces, and brooches, with the odd ring that flashed as a hand raised a drink to lips.

  It was a shame, really, that the style of the day was for minimal jewels, for far too many were tucked away, not available for others to appreciate.

  And yet, that was also one of the reasons he had the opportunity to find all of the baron’s collection — together, at once — and add to his riches.

  Fingers trailed along the back of his neck, and Xander involuntarily shivered as he turned to find an older woman eyeing him with obvious interest. Perhaps the role of a footman wouldn’t be so bad after all, he pondered, for there seemed to be plenty of opportunity to avail himself to what these women had to offer — although he wasn’t speaking of their affections but rather what they wore. Xander had always had an eye for the finery.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight he had to maintain his head, to keep his attention on all before him, for there was a much bigger prize available to him. It would require a great deal more time and would not be nearly as fun in achieving, but it would be worth it in the end.

  He was told that Harold Raymond, Baron of Wilington, was going to be married soon, that he was courting a woman years younger than himself, one with little prospects but a beauty like no other. Whether she would truly become his wife or instead his mistress, the baron apparently didn’t entirely care. Wilington had no shame, nor any reason to worry about making a misstep. He was too old to care, and besides, he already had the rest of them in his palm.

  Xander would have admired him had he not treated his staff like dirt and considered himself a gift to all of humanity.

  “John, over here!”

  Xander turned, remembering he was John. Truth be told, all the footmen in the house were John, as the baron had no care to actually remember any of their names. Which was just fine with him, for it meant that when he was gone with what he came for, no one would remember him or Damien or just what they had been doing in the house.

  “Champagne!” Wilington called as Xander neared him. The baron stood close to the side of the dance floor, although Xander doubted the man ever wandered onto it himself anymore. Beside him was a man near Xander’s age, black hair slicked back over his head as his stare wandered appreciatively over the woman who stood across from the baron, her back to Xander. The length of her neck was long and pale, the slim curve of her shoulders covered just at the top where they delicately arched beneath the cream fabric of her dress. Despite Xander’s lack of attraction to his other propositions tonight, he had to fight the urge to reach out and trail his fingers along the woman’s soft skin. Xander spotted what he was sure would be two long jewels hanging from her ears, framing her honey brown hair that was loosely tied in a chignon above her neck. That color of hair… it was one he would always be drawn to, that he could never forget. Not after her.

  He shook his head to clear it as he stepped forward, lowering the tray between the baron and the woman. He knew he should keep his gaze demure, lowered, but he couldn’t help but lift his head to see what this woman might look like from the front. Would she be anything like the woman who insisted on haunting his dreams night after night?

  As her fingers curled around the glass and she lifted it to her lips, he looked up, meeting her eyes — and stilled in shock when their gazes collided, as the glass tumbled from her fingers, shattering all over the floor.

  * * *

  Juliet froze. She felt the smooth glass slipping out of her hand, heard it shatter across the marble at her feet, allowed the drops of liquid to splash across her dress, likely ruining it.

  But she couldn’t look away as she gazed into the eyes of the man she’d never thought she would see again.

  No, make that the man she vowed to never see again. The man who had taken everything from her. The man who had abandoned her. The man who had broken her heart.

  She likely would have remained there, a statue, had Lord Wilington not started bellowing at her.

  “Juliet! Look what you’ve done. And you,” he rounded his red, sputtering gaze onto Xander, who was the first to recover as he tore his eyes away from her, “what were you thinking?”

  “My apologies, my lord,” Xander said, dipping his head in a manner very un-like the Xander that Juliet had known. Or the man she had thought she had known. “I should have caught it.”

  “Yes, you should have. Now, clean this up.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  He turned around and began walking away, as Juliet finally looked down at herself. She needed to clean up, yes, but more importantly, she needed a moment to compose herself, to recover from the shock of seeing him. Here.

  “Excuse me, my lord, but I should retire for a moment.”

  She turned before the baron could say anything, practically running from the ballroom despite the many eyes that turned to look at her. Eyes that she was already used to. She knew how uncommon it was for a woman without title or noble blood besides the distant relatives she claimed to be considered as a potential bride of a man like the baron. But her story was that her father was a wealthy merchant, which Lord Wilington seemed fine with. He cared much more for money than title. His wife had died years ago and he had no care for propriety. He liked to have a woman — a much younger woman — on his arm, to keep up appearances and to show off his vast collection of jewels, if nothing else. He enjoyed being envied, being feared.

  Which was exactly what Juliet was hoping for. She needed more time here. More time to finish her task, to find what she was looking for. The last thing she needed was complications.

  Complications like Xander Murphy.

  She hurried down the hall, around the corner to the stairway, where one of the maids eyed her with contempt. She understood. She was living the life of a woman of loose morals — even if she hadn’t actually taken part in the acts that granted one such a title.

  Not only that, but she was here — for tonight at least — in the house of a baron, being paraded around as his woman. He didn’t care much of what anyone thought, but told her that he preferred to have her close by.

  Even if it was only for her to show off his collection of jewels and take care of him, like a nanny would a young child.

  Just as Juliet rounded the corner and opened up the door
to her room, a strong hand grabbed her arm, and she whirled around, ready to fight or to scream, she wasn’t sure which.

  But instead, she found her heart beating wildly for an altogether different reason as she was trapped within arms that were both familiar and all too welcome when she should have been cursing them.

  “Xander,” she practically whispered, unable to say his name in fill volume. “What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” he hissed, and it was then she saw the storm in his eyes, those eyes that were such a unique shade of blue they were near to purple and far too beautiful for a man. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Not thinking about her actions, she took his hand in hers and tugged him into her bedroom, looking furtively up and down the hall before she closed the door behind him.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning up my glass?” she asked, cloaking her distress and placing her hands on her hips as she turned to look at him. He was dressed in the baron’s livery, although she most certainly would have remembered had she seen him around the house before.

  “Damien’s taking care of it,” he muttered.

  “Damien’s here too?” Juliet asked in surprise before she narrowed her eyes at Xander. “What are you two up to?”

  “What are we up to?” he asked incredulously. “Don’t tell me that you are actually here because you’re sleeping with that awful, decrepit old man.”

  Juliet placed her hands on her hips, shuddering at the thought of it. “If I was — which I’m not — but even if I was, what business is it of yours?”

  “I—” Xander opened his mouth to answer her, but shut it firmly, turning around as he ran a hand through his dark hair — which was far too long and was now beginning to curl around the ends — as he sighed. “I suppose it is none of my business. And yet,” he turned to face her now, his mouth twisted, “I hate to think of you resorting to such a thing, Juliet.”