Duke of Manhattan

by Louise Bay

  I paused before I said anything, trying to process what he was saying.

  “Have I pissed you off?” he asked.

  “Your shot,” Frederick called from the other side of the lawn.

  “Christ, the guy’s a prick. Can’t he see that we’re having a conversation?”

  The crinkle in his forehead and his annoyance at Frederick interrupting us was irresistibly cute.

  “Kiss me,” I said.

  “Kiss you?”

  I grabbed his collar and pulled him toward me. “I have to ask twice?” It was the only answer I had to his confession. I didn’t want him to realize how good it felt for him to tell me he liked my company. Because the way he’d said it sounded genuine. Unguarded. And after dating a million men since my divorce, it was a relief. Because I felt the same. I liked his company, too.

  He grinned and bent to kiss me. But I didn’t let him pull away after a quick press of his lips. I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck and slid my lips against his. He groaned and pulled me closer as his tongue met mine, urgent and needy.

  Just before my knees started to buckle, wolf whistles and cheering came from behind us and I released my hands. I’d forgotten we were on stage.

  But then, I wasn’t performing when I kissed him. And something told me he wasn’t that good an actor either.

  “Go and get this old duke something to wet my palate,” Ryder’s grandfather said to Ryder as the three of us sat opposite the croquet lawn, watching Darcy and Violet play against Max and Harper.

  Ryder stood and patted his grandfather on the shoulder. “Of course. Scarlett—”

  “You can be without her for just a few minutes, Ryder. I’ll take care of her,” the duke said.

  The sun was starting to go down and the air had a cold edge to it that hadn’t been there earlier but the light was beautiful, the sort I imagined painters always tried to recreate.

  “This has been a lovely afternoon,” I said as I watched Ryder walk toward the drinks table.

  “Made all the better for your presence. I’ve never seen Ryder quite so at ease with himself.”

  “I guess our arrangement takes the pressure off.”

  “How so?”

  “You know, because it doesn’t matter if his friends or family like me. Or if I do or say the wrong thing. It matters to me, of course. But Ryder doesn’t have to worry.”

  “I’m not sure that would ever be a concern for Ryder. That young man has got a mighty will. No one can make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. Or force him to have an opinion that isn’t his own.”

  I smiled. That was true. “I guess.” I shrugged.

  We clapped as Harper’s ball went straight through the hoop. She hadn’t been playing very well up until then, and I could tell from her determined face that she wasn’t about to let the game, or the other team, beat her.

  “Did I ever tell you how I met my wife?” the duke asked as the clapping died down.

  “I don’t think you did,” I replied.

  “I was twenty-five. And the last thing I wanted to do was settle down. It was the sixties and I took full advantage of the free love, though in the end, I still had my responsibilities to the estate and my father.”

  Looking out over the lawn, he continued. “My mother picked my wife for me. She was very suitable. Came from a good family. Bred to understand her duties and responsibilities to the estate very well.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. “Duties?” I asked.

  “The Woolton Estate, being Duchess of Fairfax—it’s all a big responsibility. It takes a lot of work. And my mother understood that. Of course, I tried to resist the union for as long as possible. I refused to meet my wife for months. But eventually, my parents invited her to our annual summer garden party.” His face broke out into a huge smile and he began to shake his head. “I didn’t think she was suited to me in the slightest and I hated my parents for forcing this stranger onto me. I thought she was meek, and far too serious.”

  “I had no idea. I’m sorry that you were forced to marry someone you didn’t love.” I might be marrying Ryder, but I was doing it out of choice and it was going to last a maximum of three years. The duke had married for life.

  He patted me on the hand. “Don’t be. Marrying the duchess was the best thing I ever did.” He was giving me whiplash. “Sometimes, the most unusual circumstances can throw two people together—that doesn’t mean they’re not perfect for each other.” He sighed. “It took me a while to realize what I had, to understand her strength and vulnerability, her character and her beauty. And when I realized who she was and recognized I’d fallen in love, I kicked myself for not valuing her more highly, more quickly. From that moment on, she was a treasure to me.”

  “Here you are, Grandfather,” Ryder said, interrupting our conversation and handing the duke a glass. “What are you two talking about?” he asked, taking a seat and turning toward the game. I’d lost interest in who was winning. I was more intrigued about what the duke had been saying. His message was clearly meant for me to take as a lesson, but I wasn’t sure what it was he saw in Ryder and me that made him think that his experience could be applied in our circumstances.

  “I’m just telling Scarlett here about your grandmother, and how much I adored her.”

  “You treated her like a queen,” Ryder said.

  “Because that’s what she deserved. And she treated me like a king in return.” The duke chuckled.

  “You were made for each other. Two sides of the same coin,” Ryder said.

  “You’re right,” the duke replied. “We grew to be.”

  “You used to tell Darcy and me about how you met at the summer ball and how you swept her off her feet.”

  He nodded. “She liked me to tell that story. Said she loved the romance of it, even if most of it was exaggerated.”

  Ryder chuckled. “She was a very special woman.”

  The duke turned to me and winked. “We Westbury men have a habit of finding the right woman—even if we don’t realize it at the time.”

  Nineteen

  Ryder

  “You look …” Darcy pursed her lips as she straightened my lapel and stared into the full-length, free-standing mirror I was facing.

  “Handsome?” I suggested.

  She shook her head. “Like the groom.”

  “Thanks, Darce.” I rolled my eyes. My sister never threw around compliments and apparently she wasn’t about to make an exception just because it was my wedding day. “It’s a good bloody job since I am the groom. Is Scarlett ready?” I checked my watch. Music from downstairs filtered into the room.

  “Last time I saw her she, Violet and Harper were trying to figure out how drunk was too drunk for a bride.”

  “Jesus.” She needed to be drunk to go through this? Way to make a guy feel good. “You think she’s having second thoughts?” I asked.

  Darcy frowned as if she was thinking about her answer. “I think she’s messing about with her girlfriends.”

  It sounded like she was trying to get loaded, as if she needed the liquid courage just to marry me. “Do you think I should be forcing her to go through with this wedding?”

  “Forcing her?” Darcy said, picking up the red rose and lily of the valley that was to be fixed to my lapel. “You’re not forcing her to do anything. You’re paying her, remember?”

  Of course, I hadn’t forgotten I was paying her. It had started off as the perfect solution but the more time went on and I got to know her, the more time we spent together in and out of the bedroom, the more it was clear that getting married was bigger than I’d let myself imagine.

  “You’re both getting what you need out of this,” Darcy said.

  I wasn’t sure it was an equal trade. “I feel like I’m taking more than I’m giving. I’m a selfish fuck.” I stared at the flowers in her hand as Darcy began to fiddle with the pin at the back.

  “You’re so dramatic. She’s getting what she wants. You’re get
ting what you want. What’s the big deal?”

  An awkwardness lodged in my stomach. I wasn’t sure Scarlett was getting what she wanted. She’d been married before. She knew what a normal wedding day would feel like—a day when the bride and groom were in love. Wouldn’t this be more difficult for her? Knowing how it should be? “Isn’t your wedding day a big day for a woman? Isn’t it meant to be about love and the start of a life together?”

  “Have you developed a Disney addiction I’m not aware of?” Darcy asked, straightening her skirt. “Scarlett’s not some naïve eighteen-year-old girl you’ve tricked into marrying you. She knows what she’s doing. And anyway, she likes you.”

  The corners of my mouth twitched at the thought that Scarlett liked me. “Maybe.” The feeling was mutual. She was cool and sexy. Funny and charming. She’d handled Frederick and Victoria like a pro, and Grandfather had clearly taken to her. If I could have designed a fake wife from a blank sheet of paper, I couldn’t have imagined better than Scarlett.

  Fuck, I’d seen the woman naked. No question. I’d won the fake-wife lottery.

  Darcy’s gaze flickered between my lapel and the reflection of the flowers in the mirror, then she straightened out my jacket one last time. “I don’t see how the deal you struck with Scarlett is all that different to all those women you shag on a regular basis. In fact, that’s much worse, them you use and just don’t give a shit. So why have you suddenly grown a conscience when it comes to Scarlett?”

  “It’s not the same.” But she was right. I used all the women I slept with but it was mutual. “I don’t pretend anything else is on offer when I sleep with a woman.”

  Darcy frowned. “You said you’d been completely upfront with Scarlett.”

  “I have.” I wasn’t quite clear why this felt so different. But it was. The women who came before her, rightly or wrongly, hadn’t mattered to me. Because I didn’t know them, and I didn’t want to. But I did know Scarlett. Liked her. More than that, I respected her.

  “You might be feeling like you got the better end of the deal, but as long as you are both happy, then surely that’s all that matters?”

  “It’s not too late to call this off.” I let out a long exhale.

  “How does that help anyone, you idiot? Scarlett ends up losing her business. You end up losing yours. You upset Grandfather, me—”

  “I don’t know, okay?” I pushed my hands through my hair. “Maybe I can just loan Scarlett the money and talk to Frederick.”

  Darcy folded her arms and cocked her hip. Damn, I was in trouble. She’d been doing the same pre-fight dance since we were kids. “Don’t be stupid. Frederick doesn’t give two shits about you. He’d relish the opportunity to hurt you, to ruin you. And anyway, it’s far too late to try for a deal. If you were to offer him the title and the estate right now in exchange for signing over your business, he’d laugh in your face. And then what? If you try to marry Scarlett anyway, he’d know it was all for show.”

  Of course, she was right. I knew that. I’d known it since I first heard Frederick could get control over the Westbury Group upon my grandfather’s passing. It was why I’d proposed this deal with Scarlett in the first place. If there’d been another viable solution, I’d have thought of it by now. It was just that now I knew Scarlett, it was more difficult to have her lie for me. It was bad enough that my grandfather and sister were embroiled in this deceit. I was asking a lot of Scarlett. And although she seemed to be taking it in her stride, I couldn’t help but think I’d underestimated her role in my scheme.

  “You could always buy Scarlett a wedding gift as an additional thank you,” Darcy said.

  I nodded slowly. I could but I was sure Scarlett wouldn’t be interested in further financial rewards. “You know, she’s not that girl.” Satisfied with my reflection, I turned away from the mirror and glanced around for the rings. We’d agreed on a simple service. No bridesmaids, no best man. It seemed the right thing to do. If this was a real wedding, I think I’d prefer simple in any event.

  “You don’t think she’s interested in the title, do you?” Darcy asked.

  I laughed. “No. Not at all. I just mean that it’s her business that she’s trying to save. She’s very passionate about it. The money is just what she needs to do that.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  Scarlett and I were similar in lots of ways. I’d long since stopped caring about the money I made. I was one of those people who genuinely enjoyed their job—the deal, the sense of responsibility I felt for my employees, the feeling of building something of my own. It was a satisfaction unlike any other. Scarlett had that, too.

  “Then what are you worried about?” Darcy asked.

  I was saving something important to Scarlett and vice versa. It was a good match from both sides. But that knot in my stomach just wouldn’t go away. “If I wasn’t paying her, you think a woman like that would marry me?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what had made me ask the question but as I did, I realized I’d been thinking the same thing for a couple of days now. Would a woman as sophisticated and beautiful as Scarlett ever want to settle down with a selfish, confirmed bachelor like me? I’d always assumed I could get married if I wanted. But perhaps the right woman wouldn’t be interested.

  Darcy didn’t answer and when I glanced up to stare at her in the mirror, I found her looking at me. “If you didn’t need to marry her, would you?” she asked.

  I chuckled, but it was forced. “You know I’m not the marrying kind. Too many women to limit myself to just one.”

  Normally, Darcy punched me in the arm when I said something like that, but this time she acted as if she hadn’t heard me. “I think she’d be lucky to marry you even if you weren’t paying her. And something tells me she knows that.”

  “What do you mean?” Had she spoken to Scarlett about me?

  “Just that I like the two of you together. I’ve seen you in uncomfortable situations, making decisions about things that don’t sit well with you, but when you’re with Scarlett, I don’t see any of that. I see you being yourself, the way you really only are with me and Grandfather. Something tells me that if you weren’t such a confirmed bachelor, Scarlett might just be woman enough for you.”

  Twenty

  Ryder

  Scarlett King was my wife and I was her husband. And it didn’t feel as strange as I’d expected it to.

  We’d left most people downstairs, drinking and enjoying the music. When my wife had said she was tired and her feet hurt, I’d brought her upstairs.

  “The sun will rise before they all get to bed,” Scarlett said, smiling over her shoulder at me as she entered our bedroom.

  I didn’t respond. I was too taken with the skin exposed by her backless dress.

  “They seemed to have had a good time.” She kicked off her shoes as we got inside and she reached around her back for the buttons of her dress toward the bottom of her back.

  “Hey, let me,” I said, gently knocking her hands away.

  “Thank you.”

  I hooked my fingers under the fabric, stroking her smooth, soft skin. I wasn’t sure any woman I’d ever known had had skin as perfect as Scarlett’s. I popped the first satin button free of the loop of satin that held it in place, revealing a tiny amount of extra flesh.

  “You think everyone enjoyed themselves?” she asked.

  I couldn’t care less. “Did you?”

  She tilted her head, creating a beautiful porcelain curve. “Yes. It was so much fun. You’re a good dancer.”

  I popped open another button. And another.

  “You said that already.” I’d had fun twirling her around the dance floor, but it was an excuse to hold her close and to keep her away from people who wanted our attention. I was happy just to be with her. We’d held the reception in the ballroom and because there hadn’t been many people for the wedding breakfast, it had left a lot of room to dance.

  “We’ve only been married a few hours and I’m repeating myself
. I’m boring you already.”

  I wasn’t sure Scarlett was capable of boring anyone. “Never.”

  Pop. Pop. Pop. Her dress undone, I watched as she took half a step forward and peeled the satin off her shoulders, stepping out of her gown revealing her pale-cream lace underwear. She turned and I had to reluctantly drag my eyes up her body to meet her satisfied smile.

  “It’s La Perla. You like it?”

  My gaze swept down to take her in again. Her dress had been seemingly simple and demure. But underneath it, she’d been hiding an outfit that would make a priest hard. Her breasts spilled out of the cups of her bra. A corset pulled her waist into a sleek hourglass, the white fabric almost see-through. A tempting tease. The tops of her thighs were circled in lace and, framing her pussy, hung the straps of her garters.

  “Yeah, I like it,” I said, my voice croaky and coated in lust. I cleared my throat but let my eyes continue to wander up and down her body. At every point the lace gave way to flesh—the top of her thigh, either side of her garter, her breasts—there was a promise of something that I wanted to savor. Memorize. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  She lifted her arms, stretching her body, her hips gently swaying as she fiddled with her hair, pulling out a pin.

  “Let me,” I said, desperate to undress, untie, undo her.

  I stepped forward, careful not to brush my body against hers. I wanted to take this slowly. Savor her. If I felt too much of her heat too soon, I’d be lost. Her hair had been fixed up, but I preferred it down. I liked the way the silky strands felt against my skin, between my fingers, over my cock.

  She pulled a pin free and her hair tumbled down her shoulders. She shivered, though I was pretty sure it was more than her hair giving her goosebumps. She wanted me just like I wanted her. We were equal in our lust for each other, and in so many other ways. I knew I could make her laugh and she had me chuckling more often than I could remember. She was as passionate about what she did as I was. She had a real sense of family—I was just as lucky.

  I wanted her and she wanted me.

  And now, we were married.

  I pulled out the final pin and slid my fingers through her hair and over her scalp. “There. I like it better like this.”