Dead Dukes Tell No Tales

by Catherine Stein

  “Sabine,” he breathed, his weight shifting to bring him a fraction closer.

  “Yes?”

  I’m falling in love with you. No good can come of it, but I can’t stop it and I don’t even want to anymore.

  “My room is only ten steps away,” he whispered.

  He could feel her warm breath on his skin. The scent of her seemed to flow up and around him. She leaned ever so slowly nearer.

  “Ten steps too far.”

  She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  34

  Hartleigh’s door banged closed behind her. Sabine winced. She did not want to wake Lola. If anything interrupted this, she was bound to come to her senses, and then she would miss out on the most breathtaking passion of her life.

  Cliff kissed her like a man possessed. Like he could never get enough of her and believed this was his only chance to fill his soul with the taste of her. Perhaps it was. This certainly wasn’t something they should repeat. It probably wasn’t something they should do, period, but Sabine had already gone all in.

  She dug her fingers beneath his coat, spreading her palms over shoulders made strong from rowing boats and hefting chunks of machinery. He tugged her closer in response, his hand flat against the small of her back, pressing her into the bulging erection that boldly proclaimed how much he wanted her.

  Cliff groaned into her mouth. His tongue swept over hers. He tipped his head, changing the angle of the kiss, pushing deeper, delving for more. Their eyeglasses clanged together.

  Sabine reached up automatically to adjust her spectacles, only to have her hand collide with his. He twined his fingers through hers, breaking off the kiss to grin at her.

  “Those probably should be the first thing to take off, but I prefer to see you properly.” He kissed her hand, then released it. He walked over to the bedside table to turn up the lamp, then shrugged out of his coat and tossed it aside. “Your turn.”

  “My turn?” To do what? Kiss him again? Suck his cock? Climb atop him and ride him until she was begging for release?

  “I took something off. Now you take something off.”

  She stalked toward him. “That’s not fair. I count six things for you to remove to my four, ignoring shoes and stockings, since I don’t know if you mean to count those one-by-one or in pairs.”

  He licked his lips, his eyes making a leisurely perusal of her body. “I can’t be blamed for your choice not to wear anything beneath your dress.”

  Sabine drew close enough to lay a hand on his chest. She could feel as well as hear his sharp inhalation at her touch. “My turn to take something off?”

  “Yes.”

  She unknotted his necktie and threw it over her shoulder. “There. I took something off.”

  His answering grin was so filled with naked lust her knees trembled. “So, that’s the way you want to play, is it? I guess now it’s my turn.”

  One finger trickled down her arm, from shoulder to wrist, leaving a hot trail of tingling flesh. “What to choose,” Cliff murmured. His opposite hand started at her hip, running up along her side, then down to her thigh. “Your ass-kicking boots? Your silken petticoat? Your sexy little knickers?” His hands came around her waist, finding the lacing of her corset. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the very top of her neck. “Are you even wearing knickers underneath that dress?”

  Sabine trembled in his arms. His touch burned her. His voice melted her insides. She clung to his shirt, swaying as desire spiraled through her. Her corset slipped loose. Cliff popped the busks open and let it fall to the floor. The moment she was freed from the garment, he crushed her against him. Her breasts pressed into his torso, one hard and unyielding, the other soft and supple. His fingers found the buttons at the back of her dress, tugging them loose.

  She drew back. “One at a time, Duke. It’s my turn.”

  His eyes darkened into the searing blue of a flame. A pinkish flush colored his pale skin, and his chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. “Okay.” He spread his hands at his sides. “Take your pick.”

  “I think…” She let her fingers hang in mid-air, then dropped them to his groin, tracing the hard ridge of his shaft through his trousers. He twitched beneath her hand and Sabine felt an answering throb between her legs. “I think I’m done with this game.” She grabbed him hard enough to make him gasp. “I think I want you in me right now.”

  Cliff yanked her against him once again. “Do you?” he asked, his lips caressing her earlobe. One finger inched down the back of her dress, flicking each button in turn. “Or are you still trying to hide?” He popped open two more of the buttons, pushing aside the gauzy material of her dress as he kissed down her throat. His lips teased and caressed, gliding over the white slashes of scar tissue that disappeared beneath her now-sagging neckline. “I don’t care, you know. I don’t care that you’re scarred. I don’t care that you’re biomechanical. You don’t have to tell me about it. You don’t even have to show me. But you should know that I want to see. I want to touch. I want to worship you as you are.”

  His palm closed over her soft, fleshy breast, gently kneading. She arched into his hand and he squeezed harder, his thumb rubbing her nipple to a taut peak. The ache between her legs intensified. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this. Years.

  “Cliff,” she sighed.

  Her dress slipped off her shoulder as his opposite hand continued working the buttons. This was the time when she ought to stop him. She should lift up her skirts and let him take all that he wanted, while leaving her torso covered. She didn’t share her trauma with anyone. Her pain was hers, and hers alone. She owed him no explanation, and she absolutely did not want his pity.

  The dress slipped further, exposing the top of her chestplate. He pinched her nipple, kissed her bare shoulder, and still she didn’t stop him. Why wasn’t she stopping him? Cool air low on her back told her the last of the buttons had come undone.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, then pulled his hands away.

  The dress slithered to the floor. Cliff swiftly undid the ties of her simple petticoat, leaving her standing before him in nothing but her drawers, boots, and stockings.

  “Fantastically, fucking gorgeous.”

  Sabine’s heart raced, buzzing furiously beneath her steel chestplate. There was no pity in his gaze. No questioning. Only desire. Her arms reached for him. Her body rocked closer. She needed him now. On top of her and around her and in her. She wanted the full force of his raging passion pumping into her, driving her equally as mad.

  She grabbed at the fastenings of his trousers. “This is unfair.”

  “Completely,” he agreed. “Those tiny blue drawers have me close to spending in my pants like a boy.” He kissed her hard and spun her around, pushing her down onto the bed. “And since I’d much rather come inside you, I suggest we get on with it.”

  His blunt honesty aroused her almost as much as his roving hands. She shucked her boots and stockings, catching his eye as she eased her drawers slowly from her hips. He made a strangled noise and a button flew from his shirt when he pulled too hard.

  He tossed layers of clothing this way and that, scrambling to join her. Sabine’s eyes feasted on his body. He was perfect. Disgustingly, enviably perfect. Tall and strong and lean, and still wearing those sexy red eyeglasses. He yanked open the single drawer in the bedside table and flipped open a small wooden box full of condoms.

  “Well, aren’t you prepared?” she remarked.

  He plucked a sheath from the box and slipped it on. “Always.”

  And then he was on top of her, his cock hard against her thigh, his hands cupping both her breasts, kissing her lips, chin, neck, and moaning her name.

  “Sabine. God, Sabine, I want you so bad.”

  His eager touch sent shivers of bliss coursing through her. Her right breast felt swollen and sensitive beneath his hand. On the left side, she felt only a gentle tickle as he cupped the perfectly rounded
metal and thumbed the small nipple. Even that was enough to thrill her. He caressed her as no one had, and there was no shame, no awkwardness. Only desire.

  She lifted her hips, spread her legs wider, and he took the invitation. He plunged deep, not wasting time, not bothering to start slowly, matching her own urgency. She arched her back, clutched his shoulders, and when he slipped a hand between them to flick at her clit she cried out in pleasure.

  Cliff thrust harder, whispering her name over and over in a strange, erotic mantra. Her nails bit into his skin. She was lost, helpless, overpowered by her body’s desperate yearning. The tension inside her burst with the force of a thousand ropes snapping, leaving her dangling for just an instant, then tumbling, falling into a bottomless pool of ecstasy.

  Cliff spasmed above her, gasping and groaning as he finished deep inside her. He collapsed, rolled off her, then tugged her into his arms.

  Her body stiffened. What was he doing? He couldn’t possibly want more so quickly, could he? She hadn’t even recovered herself.

  He let out a sigh of contentment and exhaustion. “Goddamn, Sabine. You’re incredible. I should get up and wash, but I just want to hold you forever.”

  Those words should have terrified her, should have made her snatch up her clothes and run for her own room. Instead, her body relaxed, and she snuggled into his embrace. He was warm and cozy, and she liked the smell of sex about him. She could give herself a few pleasant minutes to come down from the high of their wild passion.

  The next thing she knew, the morning sun was peeking through the curtains.

  And she was still in his arms.

  35

  Cliff hopped and cursed, shaking his stinging hand. Punching the wall was one more addition to the list of Really Stupid Things Cliff Kinsley Has Done. Though it didn’t rank nearly as high as Sleeping With Sabine Diebin. That one rivaled the time his six-year-old self had decided to row across Lake Michigan to “see how far it went.”

  He’d thought things would be okay. He’d thought they’d be better than okay, given how peaceful and happy she’d seemed, curled up beside him all through the night. He’d lingered awake far too late, just to watch her, luxuriating in the sweet aftermath of their life-altering union.

  If only he weren’t the only one altered.

  She’d scampered away in haste once they’d woken, which hadn’t surprised him. He’d assumed she’d be at least as deeply affected as he’d been. He might not have questioned her scars and her biomechanics, but she’d allowed him to see and touch, and he was certain she didn’t do that often.

  He’d imagined her reacting in all sorts of ways. His fantasies had involved her sneaking kisses and whispering that she couldn’t wait until evening when they could be alone again. More realistically, he’d expected scowling, cursing, avoidance of his touch. He could have handled any of that. Angry, upset, confused? Fine. The one thing he couldn’t take, apparently, was indifference.

  “Daddy?”

  Shit. Cliff snatched up the pair of gloves that one of the servants had set neatly on the sideboard in the foyer for him—beside a top hat, a billowing overcoat, and a gold-handled cane, for Christ’s sake—and tugged them on over his battered knuckles. As someone who worked with his hands, he preferred to go without gloves, but he also didn’t want any questions about why he looked like a boxer.

  Lola bounced eagerly. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure am, babe.” He swung the overcoat around his shoulders, because he wasn’t going to chance getting drenched by a frigid rain again, but left the top hat and cane where they were. Instead he snagged his derby from the hook by the front door and plopped it haphazardly on his head. Much better. He was a perpetually busy, somewhat awkward man of business. Not a duke who attended the theater with royalty. Not a man of sufficient consequence or daring to be the lover of a notorious pirate. “Let’s get out of here before someone comes along and tries to make me take that ridiculous cane.”

  Thank God they had a bare minimum of staff. Too many people hovered as it was, and the last thing he wanted was to have people doing every small thing for him. As a duke he was probably even supposed to have someone help him dress. Which he would only permit if that someone was Sabine and she was helping him look presentable after a torrid embrace in a semi-public location. Dammit.

  “What about Sabine?” Lola asked.

  “I have no idea what she’s doing,” he replied, trying and failing to sound as if he didn’t care.

  Lola gave him a puzzled frown. “Is she angry at you again?”

  “I have no idea.” I wish.

  Breakfast had been torture. He’d found Sabine sitting and eating in silence, and when he’d greeted her with a hopeful smile and a “How are you?” she answered him with a dispassionate summary of the plan for the day. No frowns, but no smiles. All business. She hadn’t tried to move away when he’d sat next to her, but she hadn’t responded to his none-too-subtle attempts to brush against her, either. Every endeavor to bring up a subject not related to today’s schedule or the search for the Heart had been deflected or simply ignored.

  Purposeful footsteps announced Sabine’s arrival. “Good,” she said. “You’re ready. Lola, put your overcoat on. It’s still winter.”

  Lola obeyed, moving something from her pinafore pocket to the pocket of the coat. Probably a spider.

  Cliff stared at Sabine the entire carriage ride, trying to find some indication that she felt any sort of emotion after last night. Her expression was neutral, almost pitying.

  His thoughts mocked him, in her voice. You poor man. You thought that meant something. Wasn’t this your plan? One night, then we’re done. Satisfied. I’m over it. Why aren’t you?

  He would never be over it.

  Lola scooted closer to him, and he put an arm around her. His perceptive girl could tell he was upset. “I’m glad you’re better, Daddy. We missed you.”

  “Thanks, Lo. I’m looking forward to seeing everything you want to show me.”

  That, at least, was true. He would focus on Lola’s enthusiastic introductions to all the sights. Try to be normal again.

  He didn’t see Sabine’s guards watching the library, though she’d assured him that they were there and that they had been given instructions to watch for Barton. Cliff walked up the stairs and through the entrance, hand-in-hand with Lola, and was immediately greeted with, “Your Grace! So pleased to welcome you!”

  Cliff almost sprang away from the enthusiastic librarian who had rushed to his side. Really, he ought to have gotten used to people knowing who he was and rushing to assist him, but he hadn’t. Probably never would. Another reason to remember why faking his death and moving to California was still the best plan.

  It didn’t feel like the best plan. In fact, it felt like a shitty plan. Like another thing to add to his list of stupid things he’d done. His new favorite plan was to say to hell with everything, kiss Sabine as hard as he could, and fly away in her airship to wherever took their fancy.

  Yeah. That was happening.

  “Your Grace, we are so very pleased that you have decided to reestablish a membership with us, after the previous duke let his own lapse near the end of his life. The Dukes of Hartleigh have been among our membership since the library opened, you know.”

  “Ah. Of course. Thanks.”

  “We’ve taken the liberty of having the bill sent to your home, where I’m certain it will be taken care of promptly.”

  Cliff fought off a frown. Wasn’t talking about money one of those things that Amy had said was “not done”? Apparently when your dukedom was known to be drowning in debt, people tried to make a point of getting paid.

  “Fine, fine,” he mumbled, hoping he wasn’t spending all that much for a service he’d probably never use again.

  “Think of it as paying a small percentage toward the Heart of Ra,” Sabine whispered in his ear. She withdrew again quickly, but not before the firm curve of her metal breast brushed his arm.


  Memories of the night before swirled through his mind. He wanted to hold her again. Wanted to make love slowly and methodically, exploring her from head to toe. He wanted to caress her soft skin, and the smooth metal that melded with it—cooler than the surrounding flesh, but warmed by the heat of her body. He wanted to trace her scars, to kiss her freckles, to learn every perfection and every flaw and etch them all on his soul.

  “Heart of Ra,” he muttered. “Let’s get on with it.”

  “Exactly,” she agreed, her voice full of the same blunt composure it had had all morning.

  “This way, Daddy!”

  Lola skipped ahead, thrilled with her role as tour guide, but she didn’t dash off as quickly as she would have done only a few weeks prior. Instead, she cast periodic looks over her shoulder, checking that Sabine was keeping pace with her.

  Damn. Cliff had been looking for signs of fear and trauma since their wild escape from the castle in Switzerland. She’d crawled into his bed a few times after waking from nightmares, but she’d generally seemed happy and carefree in the house. Having her spider to pet during the day and her doll to hug at night had helped comfort her, he was certain. He’d missed out on all the outings lately, however, while lying sick in bed.

  It wouldn’t have been obvious to an outsider, but to him it was glaring: Lola was scared to run free the way she once had. The city was full of people, and she’d learned that some of them could be enemies. Not the sort of lesson he’d wanted her to learn when he’d set out for England. That seemed so long ago now. He’d imagined introducing her to new things, new places, new cultures. Letting her dress up like a princess and take tea in a fancy house. What he’d gotten was pirates and treasures and enemies. A mix of the very bad and the very good, and it left him conflicted.

  “Come on, Daddy!” she called. She had grasped Sabine’s hand and was bounding past rows of books. “We want to show you what we found!”

  Cliff wanted to punch another wall. Lola loved Sabine. Felt safe and happy with her. Sabine loved her back, if her agonizingly sweet words last night were any indication. It melted his heart. It fueled that stupid, stupid hope of being a happy little family. Last night that hope had exploded into a giant, raging ball of possibility. He should have known better. He did know better. Sabine didn’t want that sort of life, and she was making it abundantly clear today. They were over. He was just a passing fancy.