Ava swallowed, still trying to find something else to say. Except she could find no words, and Lord Rothcastle was moving on her. He stepped closer, closer, until he filled her entire scope of vision.
“But you must have something to think about, some point of reference while you consider my offer,” he murmured, low and utterly seductive. “So…”
He slipped a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face toward his. She could hardly breathe, she couldn’t think as his mouth descended and suddenly his lips were on hers.
The pressure was gentle at first, compensating for her shocked stillness in response. But as she relaxed, her eyelids fluttering shut and her hands coming up to touch his forearms almost against her will, the kiss changed. He slid his hand into her hair and angled her face differently. His tongue slid out to dart along the crease of her lips, and she found herself parting them to allow him the access he asked for.
He delved inside and tasted her. Her world exploded around her into sparkling rainbow fragments. In that moment, as he explored her mouth with his warm, rough tongue, her knees went weak, her body seemed to melt and strong, powerful sensations of pleasure unlike anything she had ever known or felt ripped through her body.
A moan echoed on the air and she realized, quite to her shame, that the needy, wanton sound had escaped from her unruly body. And the moan only seemed to spurn Rothcastle on further. He tugged her closer, gentleness replaced by wild, animal intensity. She was crushed to him, her body molding to his as the kiss deepened, deepened. She was lost in it, and she feared he might be too.
She had no idea where it would have gone. She never knew, for there was a rap at the door that brought reality spiraling back. He all but shoved her aside, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before he turned and called out, “Enter.”
The uncomfortable butler from the foyer pressed inside. He spared Ava a quick glance and then inclined his head. “Lady Ava’s rooms are ready, as is her bath, Your Grace. Yours has also been drawn.”
Rothcastle…Christian, for now she could not help but think of him by his given name…turned toward her and his face was hard again. No sensuality remained. “I hope I have given you something to think about, my lady. Please follow Sanders. We will speak tomorrow.”
He walked away, out the door and past his servant. Ava stared at the place where he had stood and all but made love to her with his mouth. Then she somehow gathered her composure and made her way to the waiting Sanders. But as she followed him up the stairs, she was keenly aware that her body was different now. The Duke of Rothcastle had awakened something in her with his searing kiss. And that something she feared, but also welcomed.
Christian lay back in the steaming tub of water, scrubbing his road-weary body with a cloth. His hip and leg ached, but the steaming water, laden with herbs, helped a great deal, as would the poultice he would apply once he was dry. But he would not be riding a horse again for a long time. It was obviously too soon.
Riding a horse was one of many things he had not attempted since the accident. Another had to do with women.
He’d never been a libertine, but he had taken his share of women to his bed. Discreet widows, high-end courtesans, even a willing barmaid if he was deep enough in his cups. But since the accident, he’d had no desire for those frivolities.
Until tonight.
Tonight, standing in his parlor with Ava, the twinges of desire he’d felt for her and suppressed had come rushing forward, wild and out of control. When he kissed her, it had been overpowering—in fact he might have laid her out on the floor and taken her then and there if it weren’t for Sanders’s intrusion.
Even now, thinking of the way Ava’s body had softened beneath his touch, the long and needy sound of her moan, the taste of her sweet mouth, and his long-neglected cock stiffened beneath the bathwater.
It had been so long since desire had overtaken him like this that he had to clench the side of the tub to keep from slipping under the water. This intensity of want, need, would do him no service when he met with Ava a second time. It only clouded his mind, altered his judgment and pushed his sense of revenge and justice far back in the recesses of his mind where they could not influence him as much as they should.
But if he relieved his passions tonight, then tomorrow he could face Ava with a clear head. After all, his desire for her must only be influenced by how long it had been since he touched a woman.
He dipped a hand beneath the water and slid his fingers along the length of his hard cock. Immediately, sensation jolted through his body, mitigating his pain and focusing all attention on the strumming heat of his need.
He captured the hard thrust in his palm and stroked once, twice. Wild desire took over, and he arched his back as he pounded over the head of his cock and down the aching shaft. Already release bubbled in his loins, embarrassing in its swiftness and yet understandable after so many months of self-imposed celibacy.
And yet, despite the urgent need to come, he couldn’t quite seem to find the right stroke to give him what he needed. Until a sudden image of Ava filled his mind. Ava, stepping away from his kiss in the parlor and lowering her gown. Ava reaching for him, that moan she had let loose echoing around him.
He made a garbled sound of pleasure and his essence spurted from his body. He lay in the sloshing waves of the cooling tub water for a few moments after the explosion, staring up at his ceiling as he pondered what he had done. And what he had suggested to Ava in the parlor.
To take her innocence, to use her body as an act of revenge against her brother, elevated their war to a whole new level. Now that he had released some of his pent-up desire, he could see how far-reaching the ramifications of such a thing could be.
Not to mention that revenge was hardly the only thing on his mind when he touched her, when he pictured her in his fantasy. If he was going to continue with this new course of action, he would have to steel himself to any emotion associated with it.
Otherwise, he would put himself in great danger indeed.
Chapter Six
It was mid-morning when Ava’s eyelids fluttered open and she stared around the unfamiliar room with a start. Where was she? She’d had a dream that…
But it wasn’t a dream. She sat up and recognized the same small guest quarters in Rothcastle’s home where she had been put the night before. A prison.
A very nice prison, with a comfortable bed, warm blankets, a roaring fire and a hot bath, but a prison nonetheless.
She pushed to her feet reluctantly. She had slept fitfully, her dreams troubled by images of Christian kissing her, touching her, looming over her until there was nothing left in the world but him.
But in the light of day she was able to think more clearly. At least, she hoped she could, for soon she would have to meet with him and tell him her decision about giving him her body as part of a trade for her brother’s debt.
When stated so plainly, that should have been a terrible thought. But when she thought of Christian’s passionate, pleasure-inducing kiss last night…
She shoved the blankets aside and got out of the bed with a shake of her head. She had no idea what magic he had been performed to make her so weak and wanton, but she could not repeat it. Offering her body in trade for her brother’s safety was something she had to consider, but her own pleasure could not factor into the decision. She doubted her pleasure figured much into Christian’s offer, after all.
She would remain emotionless and face off with him in a calm and collected matter. That was all there was to it.
Steeled to her new decision, Ava looked around the room. The maid who had helped her last night had taken her dirty ball gown at some point. Ava had assumed it was only to clean and then return it, but as she looked around, it was nowhere to be seen.
“She didn’t want to disturb me by bringing it back,” she reasoned to herself as she went to the bell by the door and rang it for the girl. Or for someone.
As she waited, she looked around the
room. It had been painted in soft grays with fresh, white wainscoting, and there were a few pretty landscapes hung on the walls. It wasn’t a large chamber and the door to the adjoining room was locked, but it had a nicely sized wardrobe and a dressing table for her convenience. She moved to the wardrobe and opened it, but it was empty. Not even a robe to cover her nightgown was in sight.
With a sigh, she moved to the window. Throwing back the curtain, she shook her head. There were no bars on the windows to hold her captive, which she supposed was something to celebrate after all. Of course, the room was high above a garden below and directly above a stone terrace that would likely kill her if she tried to jump.
“Still, it is lovely,” she murmured.
The door behind her opened just at that moment, and the same young woman who had assisted her the night before stepped inside. Laura, if Ava remembered correctly through the fog of the past few days.
“Isn’t it a wonderful view?” she asked, though Ava wasn’t certain her comment had to do with Laura having overheard her musings or just because it was a fact.
“I was just thinking the same thing, yes,” Ava agreed as she looked out again. Green hills rolled away from the edge of the large, well-groomed lawn, and in the distance she could see a wide, blue lake. “Very lovely. If only I were here as a visitor.”
She turned to spear Laura with a stare. If she was going to be held here against her will, she was going to make sure every servant knew it. Perhaps one of them would help her if she made them uncomfortable enough.
But Laura only shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that, miss. Were you ready to get dressed?”
Ava nodded. “Yes, though I do not relish the idea of getting into that ball gown again, no matter how well it was cleaned.”
“Oh, we won’t put you back in that, my lady. It has a tear that must be mended, and we want to give it a more thorough cleaning at any rate.”
Before Ava could ask her what she meant, Laura stepped into the hallway and motioned to someone. Another maid stepped into the room with several gowns draped over her arm. Laura motioned to the bed.
“Just lay them there, thank you.”
The girl did as she was told, then slipped from the room with just a side-glance for Ava.
“What are these?” Ava asked as she moved to the bed to examine the dresses. “They are very pretty.”
Laura smiled, but it was a very fleeting and sad expression. “They are indeed. But let us see if they fit you, yes?”
Ava did not have time to answer as the efficient maid suddenly stripped her from her nightshift and gave her new undergarments to put on. As Ava did so, Laura picked the first of the three gowns, a day dress in rose pink that had elaborate red stitching along the bodice, and helped Ava stepped into it. As she buttoned the gown, the servant clucked her tongue.
“You are a bit larger in the bust, but only a fraction,” she murmured, almost to herself. “It will be simple enough to let the gown out.”
She scribbled a note on a tiny pad she swept from some unseen pocket and then turned Ava slightly. “The length will do, and that was my concern. A little long, but not enough to warrant alteration.”
“Whose gowns were these?” Ava asked, dreading the answer as Laura held up the next dress next to her, as if to compare the color to her skin tone.
The maid stopped fretting and blinked a few too many times. She took a long breath. “They were Lady Matilda’s, of course.”
Ava nodded. “I do not wish to wear them,” she murmured. “It is unseemly given the circumstances.”
Laura shook away the sadness that was on her face and sighed. “I understand your meaning, my lady. I would not share these gowns with anyone, you see, and especially not you, though I mean you no offense.”
“Then why bring them?” Ava asked.
“Because we have little choice.” The maid paced away to lay the two untried gowns onto the bed. “The duke has brought you here, for whatever purpose he has in his mind. He did not plan for your comfort when it came to clothing, probably because he is a man and doesn’t think of these things at all.”
Ava stared. A servant willing to say anything ill of Rothcastle, even something benign? This was someone who might help her.
“I suppose while he was kidnapping me, he did not pause to think of my attire, no,” she said, staring evenly at Laura.
The young woman turned toward her. “Do not mistake me, I do not question him. Lady Matilda was my mistress and a kinder person I have never met. She was snatched from us by—”
She broke off and turned away. Ava’s heart sank. Was there no one in this house who could see reason?
“I am so very sorry for your loss,” she said softly, for there was no use arguing with this woman, still steeped in grief. “Is there no other option for me?”
Laura drew a few breaths. “No. Although I assure you I chose gowns Lady Matilda never wore. They were new things she had designed before her accident.”
“That is good,” Ava said and it was true relief that flooded her. She had never been allowed to speak to Matilda, of course, and had felt no hatred toward the girl. In truth, she had always thought she was very pretty and had a nice smile.
But that did not mean she wished to wear the dead woman’s gowns.
“I do thank you for your thoughtfulness in the matter,” Ava said, moving toward the servant slowly. “Especially considering your feelings about me and my family.”
The girl turned toward her. “I only think it is a shame that things have come so far. But perhaps there is an end in sight to this foolishness.”
Ava flinched. She had never had a servant be so direct with her, but what Laura said stabbed her to her very core.
“An end?” she repeated, thinking of Christian’s offer.
The girl didn’t answer, but turned away to fiddle with one of the gowns.
Ava might have the power to end the hatred. If she could repay her brother’s debt, if she could make Rothcastle see she was human, her brother was human, perhaps she could repair the breach. And once she was free, assuming Christian was good to his word, she would work on teaching her brother the same thing.
It was a poor prospect, but perhaps the only one left. But first she would have to surrender her body to a man who despised everything her name stood for.
She shivered.
“Let me get you a wrap,” the servant said, mistaking her shiver for one of physical, not emotional reaction. She pulled a thin, pink swatch of silk from the folds of the garments and handed it over.
“Then we shall work on your hair. You can wear that gown today, and I’ll work on altering these others to better fit you. They will not be professionally done, but they will do.”
Ava shook her head as she took a place at the dressing table. “I assure you, I appreciate anything you can do for me.”
Laura did not respond, but began to brush Ava’s hair. As Ava stared at herself in the mirror, she realized in some ways she was going to battle. Her clothing, her hair, her demeanor would have to serve as her armor. And her weapons would be wiles she did not even fully understand.
But if she wished to win this war, to end this war, she would have to do her best with what she had.
Christian paced his office, jumping at every shuffle in the hall, every voice of every servant. He had been told that Ava was awake and readying herself to meet with him. She would be here soon, and he could hardly restrain himself.
Her body could very soon be his. This was a fact that gave him far more pleasure than the mere act of revenge upon her brother should. His desire for her was personal, and even though he knew he should not encourage such a connection, he still thrilled at the memory of their searing kiss.
There was a light knock on his door, and he froze in his pacing to stare at the barrier. He smoothed his jacket and adjusted the position of his cane before he called out, “Enter.”
The door opened and his sister’s lady’s maid, Laura, stepped inside. T
hey did not make eye contact, just as they had not since Matilda’s death, when he had heard Laura, through the fog of his injuries, screaming that both he and Windbury were equal partners in her death.
Another man might have fired her when he was well enough, but Matilda had adored her maid. He could not bring himself to do it.
“Lady Ava, Your Grace,” Laura said softly and stepped aside to allow Ava entry. “May I bring you anything else?”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving Ava. “No. Thank you.”
The maid stepped away, closing the door with the slightest of clicks, though Ava jumped like it was the recoil of a rifle that had sounded in the room.
She looked lovely, of course. The pink of her gown, likely one from his sister’s wide selection, highlighted the translucent beauty of her skin and made the auburn highlights of her hair gleam a little brighter.
“Would you like tea?” he asked, motioning to the pot on the table. “My cook also prepared a bit to eat, since you are too late for breakfast.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I apologize for the lateness of my rising. I assure you I am not normally a woman who sleeps almost to luncheon.”
He waved a hand to dismiss the apology. “You’ve had a trying time as of late. I thought it best to allow you to sleep as long as you needed your rest.”
“That is a…kindness.” She emphasized the word and seemed a bit confused by it. As if she had not expected to find anything like that in him.
And when his rational mind retook him, perhaps she was correct. He cleared his throat. “It is nothing, I assure you.”
His suddenly distant tone seemed to bring her back to reality. She clenched her fists at her sides. “I have considered your offer.”
Arching a brow, he took a seat at his desk and motioned for her to do the same across from him. She did not.
“Direct, as always,” he said.
Taken by the Duke Page 5