Devil Take the Duke (Lords of the Night Book 1)

by Sandra Sookoo

  “Are you certain you don’t need to say anything else?” A trace of fear slid down her spine, for with every passing second, his mood changed into something ugly, primal, untamed.

  “The curse clearly states beneath the light of that one full moon when the kiss of unselfish, pure love crosses your lips…” He shoved a hand through his hair. “We have done that. Met the requirements perfectly.” A growl moved through his voice.

  Her eyes widened. “It needs to be you.”

  “Beg pardon?” It came out around a snarl.

  “You are the one who needs to be in love during the kiss.” Foreboding crawled over her skin. He most certainly wasn’t in love with her. He’d spent the whole of their time together making sure she’d fallen, yet the curse didn’t have anything to do with her.

  “No! I’ve had years to study the curse, to understand it. That’s not true.” He grabbed her shoulders, thrust his face close to hers. His eyes roiled with horror and anger. “You’ve been having me on this whole time, haven’t you?”

  “I haven’t. I swear it.” She clutched at his arms, but he wrenched from her hold. “I’m not lying when I tell you I love you. Despite everything, Donovan, you’ve won me. I’ve never felt like this before, and I…” She cleared her throat. “I cannot love you with anything more than what I am.” A sob escaped. “I’ve given you my heart.”

  “It’s not enough.” When he growled, Alice retreated another few steps. Her back connected with the lip of the fountain. “Do you accept my wolf, too?”

  “I…” She didn’t like him in this volatile persona. “I am learning to, but it’s a process. Seeing you in that form the other night helped draw me closer.”

  “Damn you, Alice.” He paced before her, his heels grinding against the pebbles on the path. “Because you don’t accept all of me, the curse won’t break. You have wasted my time.”

  “There is one more opportunity this year.” Elizabeth had confirmed what he’d already told her regarding the four chances this year. Her words tumbled on top of each other as all of her dreams crashed like glass around her. “Now that you know what’s required of you, spend time with me, truly be my husband, and if you come to love me, you can try again.”

  His harsh bark of laughter rang with bitterness. “Did you think I wanted you for more than breaking the curse?” Pregnant silence brewed between them as tears sprang into her eyes. “I married you to prevent scandal so that I could bed you properly. I had no intentions of ever fostering a relationship with you; that was never the life I wished for.”

  Every sentence that fell from his lips plowed into her midsection like a punch. Alice cried out, not able to stifle her sob of helpless horror this time. “I had hoped we’d made progress. All this time when we got on together—”

  “Lies, carefully crafted to make certain you were firmly in love with me.” He growled again. “I chose the wrong woman, obviously, and now we’re both trapped.”

  Alice gulped in a shuddering breath. Tears fell to her cheeks. What had started as a romantic, hopeful night had turned into a nightmare. She took a few steps toward him, a hand outstretched. “Give us a chance. Try for the future. I love—”

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.” The words were graveled, full of loathing. “You cannot stand what I truly am and that has somehow tainted the love you claim to hold for me.” He shook his head. “I don’t need you, Alice, never wanted you past what you could do this night, but bravo for playing your part to the hilt. You had me on and all the while, you knew you’d reject me for my affliction, the same as all of them. I’ll give you the protection of my name, but we are done.”

  Hot anger rushed through her to temporarily disrupt the sorrow flooding her. She curled her hands into fists. “Devil take you, Donovan. I gave you my body. I gave you my heart.” Her chin quivered as the urge to cry rolled over her. “How can you be so cruel?”

  With a string of vulgarity, Donovan apparently called forth the shift. Not being able to see the transformation happen, the sounds of agony he made chilled her to the bone. Then a commanding snarl and growl split the night air. Before she could attempt to soothe him, his paws ground upon the gravel path and he darted from the area, leaving her standing alone in the darkness, her heart breaking into thousands of jagged shards.

  She covered her face with her hands and cried so hard her chest heaved. What do I do now?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  October 4, 1815

  Donovan maintained a rotten temper for two days following the ball. He spent most of that time as the wolf, giving the beast control, terrorizing the countryside, not caring what happened to him.

  And he’d not gone home, he couldn’t.

  Alice’s last words to him rang in his ears. Devil take you, Donovan. He cringed as he skulked about the streets of Mayfair toward the direction of his club. How can you be so cruel? The disappointment in her voice, every word she’d hurled, pierced his chest like the sharpest of arrows. But what haunted him the most was the fading joy in her eyes, the love he’d always glimpsed there dimming.

  I deserve her ire and her wrath. He’d shamelessly used her in the basest of ways, manipulated her feelings so she’d fall for him, pretended he’d cared when he’d had no intentions of keeping her in his life beyond that damn full moon.

  You deserve a slap in the face, human. However, I am glad the curse wasn’t broken, for I still retain life.

  Donovan refused to answer his animal. At least that failed moment had prevented a murder of sorts. Quickly, he padded through the near-empty streets, and when he gained his club, he transformed into a human in an alley at the rear then slipped inside from a servant’s door.

  A half hour later, he’d taken a bath and then dressed in the rooms set aside for his use. Then he gained the common room and threw himself into a chair at his favorite table. Even at this hour, attendance surged, and ordinarily it would have uplifted his mood, for that helped fill coffers, but in his current frame of mind, he wished every one of those people gone. All the better to sulk in silence. When a serving woman brought his customary brandy bottle and a crystal tumbler, he snarled his thanks and poured a healthy dose of the amber liquid into the glass.

  Mountgarret spied him. He approached the table with wariness in his eyes, but sat when bid. “I must say that I’m shocked to see you here.” The viscount declined a drink and the server sauntered away, hips swishing. “After the way you danced and flirted with your wife at the ball, I assumed you’d have business in someone’s perfumed arms now that the curse is lifted.”

  Donovan grunted. Damn his friend for knowing his life so well. “Where’s Rogue?”

  The viscount shrugged. “Upstairs taking nourishment.” His eyes gleamed nearly turquoise. “You’re troubled, more than usual. What has occurred?”

  “Much.” Donovan emptied the contents of his tumbler in one, large gulp. His eyes watered as the sting of alcohol hit the back of his throat. Restless, he drummed the fingers of his free hand on his thigh. When his wolf tried to punch into his thoughts, Donovan shut him out. He needed to talk to Alice, hear her voice of reason, know that she still loved him despite his behavior, feel the touch of her hand, perhaps listen to her play the harp and soothe his ragged feelings, but after how he’d acted, after the words he’d hurled at her in anger and confusion, how could he even present himself to her?

  Hot shame surged through him and he poured another measure of brandy into his glass. “Dear God, Mountgarret, I have mucked up everything.”

  That was the single most honest thing he’d uttered in the last fortnight.

  Mountgarret eyed him with speculation. He sat back in his chair and rested an ankle on a knee. “Perhaps you should narrow that term. It could refer to a host of subjects.”

  “With Alice.” Again, he downed the drink, only this time he didn’t pour out more. He set the tumbler on the tabletop with a thump.

  “Ah.” The viscount nodded. “I happened to talk with your lovely wife while you were busy
doing the pretty at the ball. She’s knowledgeable on a myriad of subjects, and a shocking one in particular.” His gaze bore into Donovan’s. “She confessed that she’d seen you shift.”

  He shrugged, not even summoning caring to utter a verbal response.

  “How did she react?”

  Why wouldn’t the damned viscount leave him alone to nurse his disappointments and sorrows? When the man raised his eyebrows in expectation, Donovan sighed. “She stood her ground, petted me like I was a deuced hound, and she…” Bloody, bloody hell. “She accepted that the beast was a part of me.” And he’d made love to her afterward, slow gentle intercourse that had him giving up another piece of his heart to her.

  “I see.” Mountgarret frowned. “This should be cause for celebration.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Let’s change subjects. What happened after you took Alice into the garden beneath the full moon?” Interest hung on the question. “Did the curse break? Are you fully human?”

  “I am not.” Bitterness hung on the confirmation. He ignored the whine of his wolf in his mind. “The beast still lives inside me.”

  Surprise lined the viscount’s expression while his eyes rounded. “I must say, I’m shocked, Manchester. You seemed so sure.” He peered at Donovan. “She does love you, does she not?”

  Memories of his time with Alice flitted through his mind like horses on a loop. Her twinkling eyes with the silver flecks when under high emotion. The tinkle of her laughter when he’d managed to amuse her. The way she’d embodied music as she’d played her harp. Her childlike delight when given sorbet. Her gentle teaching of his staff and everyone she met regarding her handicap and the bravery therein. The dreams she carried.

  “Yes, she loves me.” Strain graveled his voice. He shoved a hand through his hair, still damp from his bath. “Or, she did.” I took that love and smashed it beneath my heel as if it was nothing. More of his words came back to haunt him. I never wanted you, Alice… I chose the wrong woman… A sob built, but he swallowed down the urge to vocalize his torment.

  The viscount cleared his throat. “She returned to the ballroom in tears, looking as if she’d just lost her best friend.”

  His chest tightened. He poured out another measure of brandy and this time his hand shook. Crystal clinked against crystal. He’d seen her face with every word he’d uttered; he knew how destroyed she’d been. “What happened to her after that? I shifted and left London.”

  “Running away from problems of your own making.” Amusement lit the other man’s gaze.

  Donovan narrowed his eyes. The question bore repeating. “What happened to her?”

  Mountgarret sobered. “Your sister ushered her from the room. Neither of them reappeared at the ball, and without you in attendance either, guests left directly after dinner. It was a rather maudlin end to a promising evening.” He peered at Donovan. “What did you do?” He planted both feet on the floor. “In your infinite arrogance, what the hell did you do?” The viscount leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “She loved you, man. Does that mean nothing? Do you know how rare that is in this world—our world?”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” he shot back and followed the outburst with a sip of brandy. The drink no longer took the edge off the feelings pressing in on him. In a ragged voice, he related the incident that took place in the garden, told of all the terrible words he’d hurled at her. “There is no excuse for what I said.” He shook his head. “I was disappointed, wounded, angry. I lashed out at her, wished to hurt her as I was.”

  You are a nodcock, human. His wolf huffed into his mind, clearly annoyed.

  “I shouldn’t have said those things. She deserved none of them, for she is everything good, where I am everything horrid.” He swallowed the remainder of his drink, wincing at the burn. “But when the curse didn’t lift and my wolf rejoiced, I… snapped.” His rage having finally been spent during the two-day run, the only thing he felt now was shame and sorrow… and fear.

  “In light of all you’ve told me, I must ask you this.” Mountgarret leaned back, his eyes once more full of speculation. “Do you love her?”

  Obviously I do not if the curse is based on what she said, that it’s on me. “It’s complicated.”

  There were many things he adored about his wife, that he’d discovered after they’d married, but love? They’d shared intimate moments where things had shifted for him and he regarded her in new lights each time, but did that constitute love? If he had, he wouldn’t have hurled such insulting things at her.

  Mountgarret’s laughter brought him out of the moment. “Nothing is truly complicated. We make it that way because we cannot crawl out of our own heads.”

  “Don’t talk to me about love if you haven’t gone through that gauntlet.” The reply was more harsh than he intended.

  “Haven’t I? Haven’t we all and have known disappointment because of the curse?” The viscount glared and then sighed when Donovan failed to rise to the bait. “Still licking your wounds, I see,” the other man said in good humor. When Donovan didn’t reply, he sighed. “Still cursed and hurting, not because of that, but because you have failed to gain something else entirely.”

  How to even answer that when he marinated in a morass of confusion? “Everything I’ve hoped for is for naught.”

  “You have your wife. It’ll be a good life between you if you let it.”

  “How?” Donovan eyed the brandy bottle with its remaining third of the amber drink. Perhaps if he got himself good in his cups, he could forget Alice’s expressive eyes and the hurt therein. “I’m not a full human. Any male children we might have will suffer the curse.” Bloody hell, she could even now be increasing. “And…”

  “And?” The viscount lifted an eyebrow.

  “I married her to bed her, so she’d break the curse.”

  “But the woman loves you anyway. After everything you’ve done to her over the course of your relationship, she cares for you despite it.”

  “Yes.” The word was yanked from his tight throat. “She never wavered. How is that possible, Valentine?” He lifted his gaze to his friend’s. “I used her and she loved me anyway.” Donovan raked his hands through his hair and then laid his head on the tabletop. “I don’t deserve her.” Alice should belong with a man enamored of her, a fellow who’d care for her as if she was the most valuable treasure on earth.

  “No, you don’t, but she’s yours regardless. You have to face life as it stands now.” The viscount remained silent for a few seconds. “Honestly, you wouldn’t be as wretched as you are now if you didn’t feel something for her.”

  Was that true? “I cannot face her. What would I say?” The table muffled his question.

  “Try honesty. Apologize. It might help.”

  Donovan raised his head. “I rather doubt it. What I said was too egregious.”

  “Well, you cannot keep running from your problems. Neither can you hide from them.”

  “I can if I make a concentrated effort, Mountgarret.” He fairly snarled the response.

  The viscount rolled his eyes. “You made those messes; you clean them up.” The viscount slammed a hand down onto the tabletop and Donovan jumped. “Don’t become your father. Don’t make the same mistakes he did.”

  “Why? It’s inevitable now, don’t you think?” He rubbed his eyes. “The curse revolved around Father’s life until he became it; mine will too, since I cannot avoid it.”

  “Listen to yourself.” Mountgarret grabbed a handful of Donovan’s shirt and brought him close. “An arrogant prick like you, drinking himself into his cups and drowning in pity. Where is the pride in yourself? This is not you. You decide where you go in this life. Make certain it’s somewhere that will bring you happiness. Patch things up with your wife.”

  Donovan reached for the brandy bottle but the viscount moved it out of the way. Then he sighed. “I shall try.” He owed her a wealth of apologies but feared those words would come too late. Hadn’
t she always told him actions over words meant everything? I’ve failed her.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Mountgarret released his shirt. “Alice is good for you. And once you pull your head out of your arse, you’ll be good for her. You have been all along, but you’ve been too blind to see it.”

  It struck him as funny, and a snort escaped him. “She’s the one who is blind.”

  “It doesn’t seem so.” The viscount shoved at his shoulder. “Call for some coffee and sober up. Then go home to your duchess.”

  My duchess. He grunted. The woman who hates me.

  It wasn’t until after sunrise that he worked up enough courage to arrive at his townhouse.

  As soon as he strode through the door, Griggs scrambled to meet him. To give the older man credit, despite the early hour, he was well turned out. “Where is my wife?” he demanded of the butler.

  “I believe she’s still abed, Your Grace. She hasn’t slept well since you left.” He swept his faded gaze over Donovan’s attire: crumpled jacked, loosened cravat, unbuttoned waistcoat, and not at all the clothing he’d worn to the ball. His eyes widened. “Where have you been? The duchess has walked about worried to the point of not eating. I’ve never seen such a haunted visage.”

  Guilt washed through Donovan in a heated tide. “I was on business.” He cleared his throat. “I shall go up to her.” He strode down the hall toward the staircase.

  “Very well, Your Grace.” He was wise enough not to question Donovan further. “However, before you do, there is a Lady Cecily in the Gold Parlor.”

  Damnation. “So early? Calling hours are not upon us.”

  “I told her that, but she refuses to leave without speaking to you. She is quite agitated.”

  “Fine.” He was restless and distracted by what he’d say to Alice. “Now is as good a time as any to formally break it off with the woman.” When she’d left after a major squabble they’d had and he hadn’t heard from her, he’d assumed their association was over. Apparently not. Botheration. Changing directions, he headed toward the parlor. He should have done it weeks ago, but Alice had occupied the whole of his attention, just as she did now.