Never Kiss a Duke

by Megan Frampton

  “Sebastian.” There was that tone again. Lady Ana Maria had intriguing hidden strength of character, it seemed.

  Ivy’s chest grew tight at what he was likely thinking, if not about to say: I don’t think the owner of a gambling house is an appropriate guest at a young lady’s coming-out ball. Even if we have touched one another with mouths and hands and such.

  “Thank you for the invitation, my lady, but—”

  “No.” Lady Ana Maria used her older sister tone again. “Please don’t decline, I don’t know many people, and I like even fewer of them.”

  “We have just met,” Ivy pointed out dryly. “You could end up disliking me.”

  She heard Sebastian smother a snort of laughter. At least he wasn’t trying to find a way to prevent her from attending.

  “But you seem nice, and parties are fun—aren’t they?” It sounded as though she might not actually know. “And Sebastian will be there because he promised he would, so you’d know someone. I mean, besides me.”

  Ivy knew it was the worst idea to accept, but sometimes one had to agree to the worst ideas because the person proposing them was so earnest and kind. Not to mention someone who employed the older sister tone as effectively as oneself.

  “Yes, thank you. In that case, my sister and I will be there.”

  Lady Ana Maria’s smile grew even wider, though Ivy would not have thought that possible. “I will send the invitations.” She leaned over to kiss Sebastian on the cheek. “Goodbye.”

  She stepped away in a whirl of vibrant color, leaving Ivy feeling as though she’d been flattened by a strong wind.

  “Your sister is very insistent,” she said.

  “Yes, she certainly is.” He sounded rueful as he took her arm. “Let’s pay for our books and then go find something to drink.”

  “Tea?” she asked in a mischievous tone.

  “If I must,” he groaned in mock agony.

  She chuckled as they walked to the front of the shop.

  As it turned out, there was a small café a few blocks from Hatchards. Sebastian glanced around to make certain he didn’t know anybody there, since he didn’t want to get into a fracas. Again.

  Thankfully, the customers were primarily nursemaids with their charges. Unless he had mortally offended some child in some way, and he was fairly certain he hadn’t, they could have their drinks in peace.

  He glanced at the menu, shrugged, then handed it to Ivy. “At least they offer a variety of the loathsome beverages.”

  She took the menu, looking briefly at it before setting it down on the table. They sat across from one another, very close because the table was quite small, the chairs little spindly things that Sebastian thought were designed with women and children in mind, not with grown men who liked to sit comfortably.

  “What will you have?” the server asked.

  “Tea for two, please,” Ivy answered.

  The server nodded, taking the menu as she walked away.

  “You didn’t purchase any books for yourself. Only for your sister. Why was that?”

  She looked self-conscious. “I suppose it is because I tend to think of Octavia first, and me second.”

  “You know that’s not the way to live, don’t you?”

  She sighed. “I do, especially since my thinking about Octavia generally isn’t in line with what she is thinking about herself. So perhaps I am not as altruistic as I think I am.”

  He leaned forward. They were only about six inches apart from one another. Her tobacco-colored eyes were focused on him, and he felt a sudden but not unexpected desire for her. To see those eyes sultry in passion, to have her gaze at him with sated approval.

  Goddamn it.

  “You are that, it is also that you believe yourself to be correct at all times, as well.” He drew back as the server walked over to lay their tea things out.

  “So I am nobly suffering for no good?” Her laugh was rueful. “That is remarkably idiotic. I should think about what I would like to do.”

  “And what is that, Ivy?” He held his breath waiting for her reply.

  “You asked me before what my most fervent hope was. I couldn’t answer. I wouldn’t answer. But the answer is that you know, Sebastian,” she said in a low voice, looking up at him with a purposeful look on her face.

  “I believe I do,” he replied, trying to keep his tone even and measured. “I didn’t know if things had changed between us, and I didn’t want to presume—”

  “Things have changed between us. But not everything. I still want the same things I did before.”

  He took a sip of his tea. He still hated the taste, but it gave him a chance to think. He’d never had to think of what to say or how to say it to any woman he’d been involved with before—if things weren’t mutual, then it ended. Simple as that.

  But she was anything but simple. And he was anything but cavalier in his dealings with her. That had changed.

  “I am glad,” he said at last.

  “You promised we would play,” she said in a whisper. “And now that I know you aren’t on the brink of ruining my livelihood with your arrogance and temper—”

  He snorted in response.

  “I want us to continue the game. It can only be for a short while, anyway.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why, but there was no guarantee that she would answer as he wished. Not that he knew what he wished in the first place.

  Things were certainly a lot simpler when he was a duke. For the obvious power and money reasons, yes, but also because he hadn’t had to care about anyone beyond his family. Or he hadn’t bothered to care.

  Now he cared. He thought he might care very much.

  That unnerved him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ivy’s body prickled with anticipation as they made their way back to the club.

  Not that she thought they would walk in and he would immediately ravish her, but because she knew what she wanted. And now so did he.

  Although if immediate ravishing was in the offing, she would acquiesce enthusiastically.

  He had insisted on carrying her purchase, so both books were tucked under one arm, while he held her elbow with the other. The sun still shone, but the shadows were growing longer, and she knew there wasn’t much time before she had to return to work.

  But it had been a lovely respite. And things with him felt . . . better. If not settled. Because she was definitely unsettled when she was around him.

  “I’m thinking about your fervent hope,” he said in a low voice, the tone of which sent a shiver down her spine. It promised all sorts of things, things that could only be spoken of in quiet tones between the two of them. “And, knowing your inability to stop working for more than a few hours, I wonder if we can combine the two.”

  “It will take more than a few hours?” she blurted in surprise.

  He laughed, a knowing chuckle that made everything warm all over.

  “If I have my way, yes.” A pause. “And I will have my way.”

  “Ah.” Trying to keep herself from gasping or moaning or just wrapping herself around his entire body.

  “The day after we first met, we spoke about a special wager night. Where the customers could stake whatever they desired. Or that their opponents desired.”

  She licked her lips, since her mouth suddenly felt dry.

  “And what is your idea?” She sounded breathy. Something it appeared he heard, as well, since his grip tightened on her arm and he seemed to emit some sort of growl.

  “I propose that we practice. Play the game ourselves to see how it goes. If you want to.”

  If she wanted to? He knew the way to her heart—no, not that, not her heart—the way to her interest was to combine her personal and professional passion.

  “I do want to.” So very much.

  “I’ll need time to prepare. I want to have everything as we think it might be when we do the real thing. So—three days? That would make it the day before Ana Maria’s ball
.”

  “That sounds excellent.” As though she were truly an employer approving an employee’s plans, and not an eagerly lustful female anticipating a partner’s sexual play. “Will you require anything?” she asked.

  “That is an intriguing question,” he replied. His voice was full of wicked promise. “I require only your complete and utter participation. That if it doesn’t feel right, that you will let me know. I may not win our specific wager, but I will walk away with your pleasure at the end of the night.”

  Her body reacted immediately to his words, her breasts feeling as though they ached within her gown. The image of him sucking her nipples made her breath catch, and she faltered so that he had to steady her.

  “I plan to have you off your feet for the entire evening, Ivy, so this is a good start,” he said, lowering his head to whisper in her ear. “Even as I am on my knees.”

  If she didn’t have his arm for support, she would have definitely fallen over then. Because the image of him kneeling before her, his hands roaming on her skin, his mouth—well, his mouth just there, even though she wasn’t certain that happened. But if women did that to men, then it stood to reason—and passion—that men did that to women, as well.

  She wanted him to do that to her.

  She wanted to do that to him.

  She wanted it all. It was, as he’d said, her most fervent hope.

  And it was only three days away.

  Sebastian strode down the hall after escorting Ivy to her office. Not that she needed escorting, but he needed to be with her as long as possible.

  He was sorely tempted to kiss her, but he wanted to ensure that she was as desperately hungry as he was, that she was anticipating their evening together with as much eagerness as a desert traveler coming across a cool spring.

  Plus Samuel was waiting for her, so it wasn’t practical.

  He walked into his room, nodding at Mrs. Buttercup as he shut and locked the door behind him. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said with a grin. Byron and Keats weren’t there, likely out walking with Octavia.

  Good. He needed the time to be alone, so he could plot out just what he was going to do in three days. They would fuck, he knew that, but he also knew it wouldn’t be a fast coupling. He wanted to savor it. He wanted to make it as pleasurable as possible for her, which meant taking his time.

  Running his hands over her luscious curves, cupping her breasts in his hands as he lowered his mouth to lick and suck her nipples. Sliding down to kiss her belly, to grab hold of her thighs as his mouth plunged into her warmth.

  And now he was hard, with only his hand as a recourse.

  He stroked his erection with his right hand while he undid the placket of his trousers with the other, his cock springing free after he’d opened them. It took just a moment to put his hand inside his smallclothes to grasp himself.

  It wasn’t her soft, small hand, but it would do. Especially if he imagined it was hers, her bright, curious eyes watching him as she ran her hand up and down his shaft.

  Perhaps she’d be sitting on the tabletop, her legs spread so he could see her soft folds as she stroked him. Watching his face to see what he liked, adjusting her grip and tempo in response. Putting her other hand to use on herself so he could see what she liked.

  He gripped himself harder, stroking faster as he envisioned the scene. Thinking about her fingers rubbing herself, her eyes growing hazy as she brought herself closer to climax.

  You first, he might whisper.

  She’d shake her head, unable to resist a dare. A gamble. No, you. And she’d increase her rhythm on him, perhaps drawing her other hand away from herself to play and tug at her nipple as she kept her eyes on his cock.

  He felt the orgasm growing, his movements more rapid, until he spasmed, feeling the climax through his entire body. Gasping at how intense it was, far more than what was usual when he was on his own.

  Three days was a lifetime away.

  “It’s just us here, Ivy.” Octavia waved at the closed door as she spoke. “Come on, tell me.”

  Ivy didn’t bother to feign innocence. “He and I, we’re—”

  “Oh, Ivy!” Octavia launched herself toward her sister, wrapping her in an enormous hug. “I told him you should get married.”

  Ivy froze in Octavia’s embrace. “Uh—we’re not getting married.”

  Octavia drew back, a puzzled frown on her face. “You’re not? But then what are you—ohh!” she said, her eyes wide. “You’re—Ivy!” she said in a shocked tone of voice. “What happened? How on earth do you discuss such a thing? I am impressed by you, sister.”

  “Reach in that cabinet behind those bottles and hand me the whiskey. I’ll need it before I tell you. But I will tell you—no more secrets, remember?”

  A knock on the door made both of them turn. “Yes?” Ivy called.

  “The post, miss,” Carter replied. “And a footman brought something also.”

  The invitation to Lady Ana Maria’s party. Something to distract Octavia with. “Come in.”

  Carter opened the door, handing the small stack of letters to Ivy. The invitation was on top, and Ivy picked it up and waved it toward her sister. “I forgot to mention this”—because I was too preoccupied thinking about getting my hands on Sebastian—“but Sebastian and I ran into his sister, and she said she would be sending an invitation to a party. I presume this is it.”

  Carter was still in the room, clear interest in her expression.

  Ivy sighed. “We might as well all look at it.” She undid the seal, then withdrew the letter and read it quickly, handing it to Carter. “It’s in four days, we were invited to the Duke of Hasford’s town house for a party to introduce Lady Ana Maria to Society. It’s not precisely her coming-out ball, since she is a bit older than the usual debutante, but it seems as though she hasn’t been properly introduced.”

  Carter handed the letter to Octavia, who barely glanced at it before addressing Ivy. “What will we possibly wear? It’s far too late to get anything made up, and I don’t know if we have anything suitable.”

  Ivy nodded. “I’ve thought of that. We’ll go pay a visit to Madame Delyth’s, she makes clothing for theater people, I am certain she will have something she can rig out that will work.”

  Octavia grinned in response. “Perfect! The two most unsuitable ladies in London wearing clothing that might have appeared on the stage. I do like your thinking, Ivy.”

  Ivy returned her sister’s grin with a self-deprecating smile. “I know how to operate in a crisis,” she said in an overly modest tone.

  “I can’t wait until the party,” Octavia exclaimed.

  And I cannot wait until the evening before, Ivy thought.

  “Carter, can you go into our wardrobes and check if we have the appropriate accessories to attend an evening function?” Octavia asked.

  Carter curtsied her acquiescence, a pleased smile on her face. Ivy knew the maid’s status would be improved in her circle of friends if it was known her employers had attended a party at the Duke of Hasford’s town house.

  “Shut the door, if you please,” Octavia called as Carter walked out.

  The door shut behind her, and Octavia turned to Ivy, her expression of delight replaced with an interrogative look.

  “You have to tell me everything.”

  Ivy felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Nothing’s happened yet!” she said. “I mean—”

  Octavia’s eyes widened. “So things have happened, but not all the things? My goodness, Ivy, you are far more adventurous than I would have imagined!”

  It likely wasn’t a good thing for Ivy’s reputation that Octavia was so admiring.

  “I don’t know what has come over me, I have to admit,” Ivy said slowly. “He’s—well, he’s good to converse with, and he is very sharp in terms of business. And then—”

  “And then—?” Octavia prompted as Ivy fell silent.

  “I do like him. Very much.” Had she admitted as much to herself yet?
>
  Likely not, since she was terrified of getting hurt. Too late, a voice chided in her head. He’s going to leave, and you’ll suffer.

  “So why aren’t you thinking of marriage?” Octavia asked, sounding both puzzled and judgmental. That was a talent.

  “He hasn’t asked.” Of course it was far more complicated than that. But hopefully it would satisfy her sister.

  “That wasn’t my question.” So much for satisfying Octavia’s constant curiosity. “You came to London thinking we would only be here for a short time, just long enough to make us able to have a modest life on the beach or whatever.” She sounded thoroughly scornful, and Ivy wondered at her own cluelessness not to realize that life would not suit Octavia, no matter how much it might suit Ivy.

  Even though she wasn’t certain it would suit her now. It was a terrifying thought, the idea that she might deviate from her course of action. Usually, always before this, she saw what she had to do and she did it. She didn’t question herself or the steps she’d take to achieve her goals; she’d just do.

  But now, the plan she’d laid out for herself wasn’t as appealing. It wasn’t just due to his appearance in her life. Although the sensual pleasure she’d felt with him definitely added to her wanting to stay here. How could she be a loose, scandalous woman in a small town?

  Well, she could, but she would quickly run out of gentlemen to be loosely scandalous with. Never mind that the only person she wanted to do any of that with was him.

  Drat.

  “But it seems,” Octavia continued, and Ivy had to remind herself what her sister was discussing, “that you might be rethinking all of that. Especially since I will not be accompanying you, no matter how enjoyable it might be to live in a place where every single person knows your business.” She paused. “So my question stands—why haven’t you considered marriage? If not to Sebastian, then to some other gentleman who strikes your fancy?”

  All the answers that rushed through Ivy’s head—that she needed to keep Octavia as her first priority, that no gentleman would want her given her scandalous past, or even that she wasn’t certain she could stand to be with another person who wasn’t a relation for the rest of her life—rang hollow, and she knew Octavia would see right through her.