Cassie watched Simon climb onto the windowsill, lick a paw and settle to stare out. She did not think the cat minded missing the ball one bit.
Aunt Sarah strode over and peered up at Luke, her gaze narrowing in on the welts on his neck. “Who won?”
“Me. I think.”
“A hefty dose of whisky will put him right,” she declared then swept out of the room.
Luke dropped onto the sofa, his hand still pressed to the back of his head. “She’s not wrong.”
“We shall stick with ice and tea I think. I cannot see how you getting drunk will help the matter.”
“It will help the pain.”
“You said you do not need laudanum.”
“I do not. The last thing I want is to be out of my senses, especially when—”
“When?”
He sighed. “Nothing.”
“I am sorry this happened.”
She seated herself next to him and gently loosened his neck cloth. Red blotches marred the skin of his neck. She had seen the size of the man and could only imagine how hard the man had squeezed his neck. When she touched a finger to his skin, he released a hiss of pain.
Mrs. Lamb entered the room with a tray of ice, cloths and a pot of tea. She set it down on the table in front of them. “If it’s a head wound, he might need stitches, my lady. Should I send for the doctor?”
Luke shook his head. “It’s a mere scratch.”
Cassie shared a look with Mrs. Lamb. The housekeeper gave a little nod of understanding as she left the room swiftly and with any luck would return with a doctor before long.
“You do not need to act brave. That man was twice the size of you.”
“Maybe three times.”
“Why are men always prone to exaggeration on the size of things?”
“Believe me, I have never exaggerated the size of anything in my life.”
***
THE PUCKERING OF her brow indicated Luke’s poor attempt at humor had gone entirely amiss. He groaned when she pressed a damp cloth to the back of his head and it had little to do with the pain her ministrations caused and everything to do with her proximity.
She kneeled beside him to get nearer and coaxed him to tilt his head for better access. Her breasts were a mere head twist away. Her knees pressed into his thigh. He bunched his hands and pressed his knuckles into the forgiving fabric of the sofa and eyed the delicate damask pattern.
All he needed to do was sit here, not think of Cassie’s breasts or lips or even her damned knees—who the hell knew knees could cause such discomfort in a man?—and remind himself precisely who she was.
And who he was.
A man entirely not worthy of her.
Her fingers sifted through his hair, the touch not entirely unpleasant considering the sharp pain in his skull.
“It is not as bad as it looks,” she murmured.
He twisted his head to eye her on instinct and regretted it. She stilled when she met his gaze and he saw her pupils darken. Why could she not loathe the very ground he walked on? Why had he not been able to push her away with his roguish manners? Cassie was no fool and she knew better than he that she deserved someone of equal rank with a far better history than he.
So why did she have to torture him with parted lips and wide eyes?
Her throat bobbed and she turned, dropped the bloodied cloth on the tray and retrieved a clean, dry one, then raised up a little on her knees and pressed it against the wound. “I do not think you need stitches.”
He inhaled a breath through his teeth.
“Forgive me.”
He was the one who needed forgiveness. Especially when he failed to draw his gaze from her, allowing it to linger over her gentle curves. Grinding his teeth together, he fought for control when she shifted slightly closer. It wouldn’t take much, and he’d be buried in her body, kissing her neck, her décolletage.
Luke reached up and snatched her wrist. “Enough,” he bit out.
Her gaze flew wide.
“That is...it is fine now. You need not tend to me any longer.”
She glanced down, bunched the fabric in one hand and paused for a moment before giving his head one last inspection. “It does appear to have stopped bleeding.”
“Good,” he said gruffly, turning away and forcing his attention to the portrait over the fireplace.
It was of an ancient member of the family but the similarity to Anton was enough to remind him why he should not be entertaining any thoughts other than dashing out of here as quick as his boots could carry him.
“I am sorry you were hurt aiding me.” She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “But I am grateful for your assistance.”
He twisted again. The innocent kiss shouldn’t have been the undoing of him, but the feel of her soft lips lingered, spreading a slow burning fire that worked through to his fingertips that ignored his command to remain bunched.
Lifting his hand slowly, he silently willed her to rise from the sofa, to send him on his way. She refused to move, not even when his hand came up to cup her cheek. He regretted he wore his gloves, but he wasn’t brave enough to take the time to remove them lest he lose this opportunity.
The heat coursing through his body pounded hard, making the pulse in his ears roar. It propelled him forward, like the surge of a wave. He met her gaze, searched it and looked for the tiniest indication that he should turn back. She gave him nothing.
Nothing except invitation. He heard her sharp intake of breath when he moved closer and pressed his hand to the back of her neck to angle her just so. He moved in slowly, cautiously. Her scent wrapped about him and he felt warmth emanate from her.
Luke dropped a kiss to her lips—gentle and undemanding—almost nothing more than a brief brush of skin. He let air linger between their mouths while their gazes met. He waited a mere heartbeat or two before coming in for more. This time there was nothing gentle nor undemanding from either of them. Cassie released a tiny cry as they clashed, and her hands clawed his shoulders.
He dragged her into his lap, wrapping an arm about her waist, while he held her face firmly, giving him open access to her. His tongue met hers, tasting her deeply. Every inch of him was aflame with need for her and no matter how roughly he kissed her, no matter how many sounds of appreciation she made, he did not think he would get enough.
She cried his name when he dragged his mouth across her jaw and down her neck then back up to capture her lips again. She writhed against him and every part of him ached with need. With the exception of his head, which was entirely forgotten now. Stitches and doctors be damned, all a man needed to get better was a delicious, tempting woman who drove him to the edge of insanity almost every day of her existence.
He broke away at the sound of a creak of floorboards. Who knew how close they were but it was enough to drag him to his senses. He eyed her soft, red mouth and her heavy lids. Nothing would hurt him more than releasing her, not even being nearly strangled by that brute of a man.
She opened her mouth then shut it.
“I cannot keep doing this,” he said.
“You cannot keep doing this? I cannot keep doing this.” She shoved back from him, sliding into the corner of the sofa and wrapping her arms around her legs. “I risk ruination every time.”
He nodded grimly. “I know.”
“Well, there we are agreed. We must stop kissing.”
“We must.”
“I have no desire to—” She paused and put a hand to her mouth.
Desire. What a terrible choice of words to use around him. Desire beat its war drum through him, urging him to grab for her. She threw up her hands as he fisted his own.
He released a disgusted noise. “I am no good for you, Cass. I risk your reputation and your engagement with my selfishness.”
“My engagement?”
“I was informed of it recently.” He shook his head. “Which makes my behavior all the worse.”
She gave a light laugh.
“I’m not engaged.”
He scowled. “Your aunt said Anton is in discussion with the Duke of Marsbeck—she inferred it was all practically arranged.”
Cassie shoved up from the sofa and furiously straightened her skirts. “I am not engaged, and I never shall be. I am not ready for marriage!”
Well, that told him he supposed. Any foolish idea of marriage fled his mind. A fine thing really. He’d never considered it before and certainly should not be thinking of it now—at least not to Cassie.
Chapter Sixteen
Cassie could no longer blame kissing Luke for the heat coursing through her. Anger made her fingers pulse and her breaths hot. She shoved past Luke and out into the corridor, pausing for a moment to choose a direction.
“I did not know you were in ignorance as to the arrangement, Cass,” he said, hands coming to her shoulders.
She tore herself from his grip. “Yet you thought me entirely capable of—” she dropped her voice, “—kissing you whilst attached to another man.”
“I do not for one second believe either of us were thinking straight.”
She tensed her jaw and eyed him for a moment before heaving out a breath. “My quarrel is not with you, Luke.”
“Cassie—”
“Please go home. I need to speak to my father.”
He hesitated, his brow furrowing. He moved slightly as though shifting to grab her again and pull her into his hold. As independent as she tried to be, a small part of her desired nothing more than to be wrapped in his firm, strong embrace—entirely shielded from a world that apparently had her future arranged for her—without her knowledge or consent.
She shook her head to herself. When her brother returned...
“Please go,” she said softly.
He gave a brief nod, retrieved his hat and headed out of the house. She gave herself a little shake and turned away from the temptation to will him back to her.
Mrs. Lamb entered the hallway and paused. “Did I hear the door? I sent for Dr. Jennings, my lady.”
“The viscount is quite well and has decided to recuperate at home.”
“Recuperate at home?” Mrs. Lamb echoed.
“Where is my father?” Cassie demanded.
“In the library still, I’d imagine.”
“Of course,” Cassie muttered and stalked through the adjoining rooms toward the library, ignoring Mrs. Lamb asking if all was well. She shoved open the library doors and her father’s gaze snapped up. He shoved his spectacles up his nose and peered at her from his position behind the large desk that sat in the shady corner of the library.
“Cassie? You are lucky I was only reading and not doing any notation.”
“Did you know, Papa?”
“Know what, dear?” He gave a warm smile as she approached.
She could not fathom that her father might agree to such a match without her consent yet he was so absent-minded these days that he could very well have done and scarcely remembered it. For the most part, she did not mind his lack of involvement in her life. It gave her much more freedom than many of her friends. But to give her away so easily, to a man a good twenty years her senior merely because he happened to be a duke...
“About the Duke of Marsbeck?”
His brows furrowed. “Marsbeck?” He tapped a finger to his lips. “Is he not the chap who insisted beards would come into fashion soon?” Her father gave a shudder. “Most unsightly.”
Cassie could think of worse things than a beard upon the man’s chin. Namely, that he was quite the stranger to her, given the difference in age. “Did you know?”
Her father tugged off his glasses and set them aside. “You really should learn to be clear in your demands, Cassie. you are a duke’s daughter after all. Pause and think through your words.”
“That Anton was negotiating my engagement to the duke?”
He blinked a few times, glanced down at the book in front of him then shook his head. “I would have remembered such a thing.”
“It seems Aunt Sarah is aware of it.”
“Hmmm.” He sighed. “Your brother may have mentioned it but I cannot recall.” He waved at the book in front of him. “You know how my studies occupy my time.” He rose and took her hand. “But, Cassie, Anton loves you. Perhaps you could take a moment to calm your senses and remember he only wants the best for you.”
“The best for me is most certainly not marriage to the Duke of Marsbeck!” She snatched her hand back.
Her father patted her shoulder. “I imagine Anton has forgotten all about it whilst on his honeymoon. I should not worry. I would wager your aunt has exaggerated it all and it was no more than a whisper of interest from the man.”
Cassie let her shoulders drop. She hoped it to be true, but Anton always thought her unruly, and whilst he might love her, had he not been the one to set Luke the task of keeping an eye on her as though she were some mischievous child? He was open in his frustration that only Chastity had married and lamented having all unmarried sisters but would he really do such a thing?
“Do not fret, Cassie. It is bad for your health.”
She glanced at her father and offered a weak smile. “I know, Papa. I shall try not to.”
“You’re a good girl.”
He slumped into the chair and put on his spectacles. Cassie dropped a quick kiss to his head and headed back through the house toward the music room. She didn’t make it as far as the music room before Chastity and Demeter met her in the adjoining room.
Chastity folded her arms and Cassie frowned. She knew that look—it was the one where Chastity wanted to kill anyone who might harm her sisters. Had she heard of the engagement already? Did she wish to throttle Anton as much as she?
“I already spoke to Papa—”
“Where is Luke?” Chastity demanded.
Cassie flicked a look between her sisters. Demeter wore a petunia sealed in a glass orb around her neck. Something to do with anger, Cassie reckoned. Which mirrored her mood perfectly though she was not certain what Demeter had to be angry about.
“Mrs. Lamb said she’d seen him,” Demeter said quietly. “And that he was hurt.”
“He’s gone home.” Cassie gestured vaguely. “But—”
“He should have been protecting you,” Chastity snapped. “What if you had been injured? Or killed?” She shook her head and blew out a breath. “I do not know what is going on with this investigation, but I am not happy. This is not what Mama would have wanted. First you are vanishing at all hours and then it turns out you are spending more and more time with that rake.”
“He had been aiding me,” she mumbled.
“Aiding you in getting into trouble it seems.”
“Chastity,” Demeter warned.
“We investigate minor feminine problems. Occasionally we might come upon thieves and the like but nothing dangerous,” her oldest sister said. “Now it seems you are visiting all the dangerous parts of town and nearly ending up killed.”
“I wasn’t even in harm’s way!” She felt tears well in her eyes. All she wanted was for her sisters to be proud of her but apparently she could not even do that.
Chastity’s expression softened. “I could not bear it if something happened to you, Cassie. What would we do?”
“I am not going to let anything happen to me, I swear it.”
“You could have at least told us what was occurring.”
Demeter nodded. “We do not keep secrets.”
Cassie gave a little huff. “Some of us do it seems.”
“What do you mean?” Eleanor asked. “None of us have—”
“Anton is in talks with the Duke of Marsbeck to negotiate our engagement.” Cassie could not keep the bitterness from her tone.
All three of her sisters gasped.
“Aunt Sarah knew it seems but kept it from me.” Cassie waved a hand. “Goodness knows why.”
“Knowing her, she has her reasons but surely Anton would not go into negotiations without speaking with you fi
rst.” Demeter frowned.
Chastity grimaced. “I would not be so certain. Now he is married, he is keen indeed to finally have us wed. I overheard him saying as much to Eliza.”
Arms folded, Cassie shook her head. “Well, he will have to force me if he wants such a match.”
“H-he could if he so wished,” Demeter murmured.
“He would have to go through us first.” Chastity put a hand to Cassie’s shoulder. “Do not panic or do anything rash, Little Sister. All will be well.”
Cassie tried to take comfort in her sister’s words, really she did. The addition of little did not help matters much, though. She felt the need to do something drastic and bold down to her very soul, making her fingers twitch. She could not sit around and wait for her future to be decided. She had to take charge.
***
WHEN THE DOOR to Luke’s study creaked open, he did not expect to see Cassie stride in. The quill dropped from his fingers, causing a splotch upon the letter he’d nearly finished writing, and rose abruptly, sending the chair back with such a screech it made him wince. He cursed under his breath and forced a polite smile.
A man of his age acting like a bumbling whelp merely because the last time he’d seen Cassie he’d kissed her so desperately he still felt the imprints of her fingers and tasted her on his tongue. It was hardly the first time he’d kissed a woman passionately.
But Cassie was different. He’d known that for too long.
“How is your head?” she asked.
“Whatever are you doing here?” he demanded at the same time.
She pressed her lips together, opened her mouth then closed it when he went to do the same. She gestured to him. “No, you go.”
“What are you doing here, Cassie?”
Hands laced behind her back, she pressed shut the door with a bump of her rear and affected a demure expression.
Luke went to swallow and failed, leaving him feeling more like a whelp than ever before. After yesterday’s revelation he did not anticipate seeing her so soon.
“Let me guess, you have another daring exploit and wish me to come along.” He motioned to his throat. “I am not taking you anywhere dangerous ever again, Cassie, and I mean it.” The words did not come out as firmly as he’d hoped.
Secrets of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society Book 1) Page 11