Ruin Me Please

by Nichole Matthews

  “Well then,” Finley blinked, “even if you were not a duke, Your Grace,” he genuflected facetiously. “No doubt.”

  “I think it is high time that I marry.” He scrunched up his face in the mirror. If he had to go down, it was going to be on his own terms. Squaring his shoulders he continued, “I do have obligations as the duke. In fact, I have just decided to take a bride,” Declan voiced aloud. “My time of mourning is over. It is high time I started filling my nursery with squalling infants.” Humor lit his eyes as he finished

  Pleased at the news, Finley gushed, “Are congratulations in order, my lord?”

  “Not yet,” he murmured. A faint smile curved Declan’s mouth as he adjusted his cravat.

  ***

  Declan stopped as he descended towards the dining room when he heard loud voices at the bottom of the stairs. Quietly glancing over the handrail, he noted a heated argument between Durham and Lady Sheffield. Not meaning to intrude and not wanting to interrupt, he paused on his way to dinner.

  ***

  “Why do you delight in vexing me?” Freya demanded, staring at him as if he had lost his senses.

  Durham winced. “I cannot fathom why you are so cross with me?” He countered.

  “No inkling?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  He could tell by the flush on her cheeks that he had struck a sensitive nerve.

  “I daresay it meant so little to you that you would be able to easily erase the insignificant moment from your mind.” Freya sniffed.

  Durham blanched, slowly dragging his hand through his hair, but forced himself not to respond rudely. “I think you had best elaborate.” He adopted a lazy smile.

  “You kissed me, remember?” Her eyes snapped. “And yet you have the nerve to pretend that you do not understand my cool greeting. You kissed someone else later that same night. You are the one who behaved outrageously. Of course, you would think that so unimportant. Your inability to see your actions in my anger astounds me.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “Your naiveté is charming,” Durham drawled. “It was one simple kiss. I had no idea that I had to report my every movement to you anyway.” He studied his fingernails as if admiring a recent manicure.

  Freya stiffened, aghast at his response. “How are you able to say that to me?” With a suspicious hitch in her voice, she said weakly, “But of course you would say something so abhorrent.” She shook her head in exasperation. “You have no heart.”

  “How many times do you expect me to apologize?” Durham retorted in an angry whisper. “It did not signify, Collette kissed me, I did not kiss her back. You left before you saw the whole display. End of story.”

  With her chin jutting militantly, Freya shrugged. “How easy that is for you to say now when I did not witness the end of the exchange.”

  “Freya, I am asking you to forgive me,” Durham pleaded.

  “I have not given you leave to be so familiar with me!” Freya practically screeched at his use of her name. “I have advised that I will forgive your rude manners Lord Durham, but that is all,” Freya answered frostily. “I do not trust you. I will never trust you again.”

  “You do not have to act so haughty, Lady Freya,” Durham scathingly responded.

  “This is by far the worst apology I have ever received.” Her eyes flashed. She glanced around as if searching for some assistance from anyone. “Begging and pleading in one breath then insulting me once again.” With a toss of her head, Freya continued, “You are just upset because I did not fall at your feet at the Elmbridge Ball. That I had the audacity to embarrass you in front of your party.” She frowned at him. “Your conceit astounds me.”

  “Conceit-conceit? Damnation woman!” Durham sputtered and cursed with his nostrils flaring.

  Freya stepped back. “You are a crude, vulgar beast,” she shouted.

  For a second, he stood there frozen. “I did not mean to insult you, I s-s-swear,” Durham groveled stammering a little.

  “I am such a fool.” Freya moaned a deeply bitter sound. “I should have known that the whole thing was just a ruse to you. A joke. I was just a moment’s entertainment. You probably went back into the ballroom and bragged about our encounter to your friends over a glass of brandy.” A choked sob escaped. “Your devil-may-care approach to life made me feel adventurous for a moment, but you obviously have not grown up. Believe me; I will not be fooled again.” Freya’s footsteps echoed as she stomped down the hall.

  “Bloody hell!” Durham slammed his fist into the nearest wall and he grunted at the pain. “Damn it!”

  ***

  Declan glanced over his shoulder at the familiar swish of silk behind him. His heart gave a wild kick as he shamelessly took in Poppy’s tantalizing figure. Her high-wasted gown of shimmering violet displayed her charms to perfection. A wide silver sash tied directly under her bosom flattered her shapely figure. The squared off bodice draped in white gauze was cut low over her firm, high breasts cupping them tenderly. The glossy material floated provocatively about her limbs clinging to her body like a lover’s hands. He could hardly take his eyes off her.

  “I had no idea that you liked to eavesdrop, Your Grace.” Her teasing smile sent a charge of heat along his nerve endings.

  Declan deliberately arched an eyebrow.

  “What is all the noise?” Her soft melodious voice inquired, cocking one of her eyebrows.

  “I’m trying not to spy on our friends.”

  “Gracious,” she said, peeking over the railing. “Who could help but be intrigued by all of their shouting?” She leaned over the railing to catch a better glimpse. “Freya is normally so good-natured. I can’t imagine what has gotten into her?” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Don’t be too distressed,” Declan replied, giving Poppy a speaking look.

  “No?” Her nose wrinkled adorably in stunned disbelief. “Do you think?”

  His brow arched suggestively, his smoky chuckle enveloping her.

  Poppy shivered as she glanced into his hooded eyes, flushing under his charged look.

  “Durham is normally the most charming and practiced flirt,” She mused, thinking back at all the times he had been at Rosebriar. “He must be completely out of practice, or maybe he is in love.” An involuntary gurgle of mirth drew his eyes. “I daresay, I gather from their meeting, Durham has a tendre for Freya?”

  Declan nodded his head. “And if I am correct, vice versa.

  Poppy crowed, “Unbelievable!”

  Poppy turned around, leaning her back against the balustrade and lifted her eyebrow inquiringly. “I have heard that you are also notorious for your wickedness, Hawksley.” Her eyes twinkling as she inquired inquisitively, “Are all the rumors true?”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he responded, “I have also heard such rumors.” He tapped her on the tip of her nose. His voice deepened, “Where would a little innocent like you hear of such wicked things?” He leaned back to plant his elbows on the balustrade beside her their arms barely touched, but it caused a swift inhalation at the contact.

  She lifted her chin, mesmerized by the muscles that flexed beneath his perfectly fitted coat; she could not stop her eyes from roaming hungrily over his wide shoulders. He was splendid.

  She was such a petite woman. The top of her head did not even touch his shoulder, so when he looked down at her, the creamy swell of her bosom drew his gaze as they rose and fell invitingly with every breath that she took. He licked his lips, his fingers itching to reach out and caress her exposed flesh. He rubbed his hand on his fitted breeches to prevent them from touching her. He desperately wanted to touch her, to see if her ivory skin was as soft as she looked. His heart beat erratically in his chest. He scanned her features, until they locked on her eyes, holding her prisoner with his emerald stare.

  Poppy’s eyes fluttered as she boldly met his heated gaze she could not even imagine looking away. With the realization that they were completely alone, caught up in the moment Poppy swayed he
lplessly towards him, drawn by his magnetic allure. She wanted him to kiss her. She wondered if he was the right man for her. Could he really be the one?

  Suddenly she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  Declan was completely captivated. He wanted to trace the same path that her tongue had just traveled. Did she know that her lips beckoned, so soft, so plump, so tempting.

  He was not like most of the men of the ton who were thin and pale. He was big, strong, tanned and powerful. He was exactly the type of man in which she dreamed, but now that she was standing in front of him, she didn’t know what to do with him. He wasn’t standing in their parlor with a bouquet of flowers or trying to read her bad poetry. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her.

  He could practically hear the warning bells going off in his head. He certainly hadn’t come to Rosebriar to seduce a virgin. He knew she did not understand what she was doing; she was far too innocent even with the façade. No matter, he knew exactly what he was doing. He leaned closer still.

  “I should be fighting you,” she said, knowing he made her weak by her desire to start a family of her own and his proximity. The heat from his body turned her blood to a slow molten flow through her veins.

  “I couldn’t fight you even if I tried.” His eyes still on hers, he lowered his head and wrapped her firmly in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. He crushed her soft curves to his hardness in a feverish passion as he captured her lips with a searing intensity. She tasted of innocence and he savored the exotic flavor.

  Awed by the forcefulness of the kiss she arched towards him meeting his demands without hesitation. Her lack of experience was no match to her enthusiastic reaction. Her breast pressed against his chest. Her nipples sensitized by her desire becoming more so with each swipe of his tongue.

  His whole body reacted. His arms tightened around her like bands of steel as he molded her to him. His breath came in shallow gulps as arousal rushed through him.

  She sighed into his kiss with contentment, every bone in her body seeming to melt. She speared her fingers into the hair at his nape feeling the silky texture between her fingers and pulled him closer.

  His tongue traced the entrance to her mouth.

  She felt his smile, and the rumble of his words, “Open for me,” he groaned. His lips claimed her possessively. His tongue reaching deep into her heat, bold, hot, and devouring.

  She shivered as his tongue plunged between her lips. Assaulting her senses, he aroused exquisite sensations that were brand new. She was lost in the taste of him.

  He ravished her mouth with superb thoroughness. This was madness. To steal a taste was not going to be enough he craved more. He desperately needed more, but common sense won out. He tore his lips from hers, resting his forehead against the top of her head. His breath rasped sharp and uneven.

  “Have mercy on me,” his voice a soft whisper. He inhaled her evocative fragrance. She stirred him as no other woman had. He was weak with his desire for her. Raising his hand, he tenderly traced her jaw as his thumb stroked her kiss-swollen lips. His searching gaze found similar desire mirrored in her eyes so he lowered her down his body, leaning down to kiss her plump lips, sipping from them, savoring them a final time, setting her back from his body.

  He watched as she slowly blinked her eyes and stared right at him, her gaze still unfocused. He was surprised that she looked more curious than shocked. More intrigued than nervous.

  “Oh my.” Her hand pressed to her breast as she struggled to catch her breath.

  He couldn’t stop the rakish grin that spread across his face.

  Poppy’s head reeled. She looked up transfixed by what she saw in his eyes as a soft heat once again curled in her stomach.

  Declan cleared his throat. “The number one rule of friendship is that men are not supposed to dally with each other’s sisters.”

  Poppy interrupted before he could say anything else. Her eyes still hazy with passion, she shook her head closing her eyes briefly as she gathered her nerve. “You can blame me. I’ve imagined kissing you since the moment you walked into my garden.” She smiled softly as a rosy blush crept up her neck into her cheeks. “Shocking.”

  “Shocking, indeed.” Declan gave a start and stepped away from her at the sound of a door opening and clicking closed. Holding out his arm, a faint smile curved Declan’s mouth as he gave her an elegant bow. “Shall we?” He took her hand, but before tucking it in the crook of his arm, he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss on each of her trapped fingers. Seemingly, without thought he caressed her hand.

  Poppy glanced up from under her and inquired innocently, “Are you hungry, my lord?”

  He nearly groaned aloud at her question, staring into her eyes hungrily. “Ravenous.”

  ***

  Chloe stood at the top of the stairs, a worried frown turned down her mouth at the spectacle she had witnessed between Poppy and the duke. It was unlike Poppy to be so careless. She wanted her friend to be happy. She just prayed that disaster was not swirling around them. She needed to find some way to divert Poppy from this infatuation.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;

  Being purged, a fire sparkling in lover’s eyes;

  Being vex’d, a sea nourish’d with lover’s tears:

  What is it else? A madness most discreet,

  A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

  Romeo and Juliet

  *William Shakespeare

  Poppy immediately scanned the Drawing room upon entering. As soon as she crossed the threshold, a palpable animosity was almost visible between Freya and Durham. She searched out Parker and when she caught his eye, she raised a questioning brow, her lips quirked in a half smile. He responded with a half grimace and a shrug. She had a feeling this evening was not going to turn out well.

  Auntie Adele was the only one missing. She had decided to take her dinner en suite, stating that the young people should be able to have fun without an old harridan hanging around all the time.

  “How are you this evening, Lady Freya?” Declan bowed his head.

  “Perfectly well, Your Grace,” Freya said unconvincingly, inclining her head. Poppy noticed a shimmer in her eyes that could only be the beginning of tears.

  “Oh dear,” Poppy said, turning towards Declan before releasing his arm. Then she gently looped their arms together. “Freya, let us take a turn about the room, dear.”

  Freya could only nod.

  “Why, everyone’s been cooped up all day and traveling in carriages, it’s enough to make anyone fatigued…” her voice faded as they walked away.

  Poppy smiled at Miss Harris who was sitting sleepily by the fire with her embroidery as they strolled by.

  Declan’s eyes followed them for a moment, concerned for Poppy’s friend and the mess Durham had made. He turned and made his way to Durham curious to uncover more of history. Passion that hot was going to burn someone and he wanted to make sure it consumed the right people.

  Declan stopped beside his friend. “Durham,” he said in greeting, then proceeded to berate. “What the devil is going on?”

  Durham looked away uncomfortably, staring into his glass of brandy with a deepening frown. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Hawk.” Still he refused to meet Declan’s eyes.

  “Well, I thought you should know that if I heard your theatrics in the hall when I was coming to dinner, others could have as well.” Declan’s brow furrowed. “Just what kind of game are you playing with Lady Sheffield? It is not like you to play so dangerously with innocent ladies.”

  Durham’s face turned fierce. “I’m not playing games.” He waved his hand. “A huge misunderstandin’.” He glowered, swallowing more of his brandy. “I wasn’ playing with her as you so deli---delicately put it. What bus’nes ish yours anyway?” He snorted in outrage his scowl deepening.

  Taken aback by Durham’s vehement reply, but not surprised, Declan continued, “I
’m just trying to help an old friend that is all.” Declan eyes narrowed and he forced a smile as he watched Durham take another large swallow. “Maybe you should put that drink down?”

  Durham, groaned, stomping his foot, nearly sloshing the contents of his half-filled glass on the carpet. “A terr’ble mesh o’ ev’rything. Now ishn’t the time and place.” He looked into his glass, “’sides, I need more brandy.” With each passing second, he slurred his words a little more. Declan watched as he spun, holding out his arms to right himself and stalked away none too steady as he went.

  Needing reinforcements, Declan made his way to Parker and whispered, “You might want to hide the brandy tonight, Ash.” He gestured towards Durham while giving Parker a rundown of the situation.

  Parker rolled his eyes heavenward muttering, “God give me strength. You are kidding me. We’ve not even made it past the first day.” He sighed, heading towards Durham and his best bottle of brandy.

  Poppy glanced over her shoulder, catching the end of Declan and Durham’s conversation taking note that it apparently did not end well. She watched as Durham filled his glass to the brim, surprised that he didn’t spill a drop. “Whatever is the matter with Lord Durham?” Poppy inquired of Freya. “He is usually such an amiable man. I don’t believe I have ever seen him drink this much.”

  “What makes you think I would have more than a passing care for Lord Durham?” Freya replied not quite meeting Poppy’s eyes. Poppy could see that the falsehood weighted heavily on her heart as her shoulders slumped.

  “Perhaps because of the daggers that are shooting back and forth between the two of you or perhaps your outburst in the Billiards room this afternoon.” Poppy looked deep into her friends eyes. “Or…” she paused, “perhaps because I overheard the two of you arguing in the hall?” Poppy’s brow furrowed in concern as the color drained out of Freya’s face. “You know you can trust me. I hate seeing you like this.”