What a Duke Dares

by Anna Campbell

  The glassy look in her eyes betrayed her enjoyment. Anticipation surged like a cavalry charge. He tossed her skirts up, revealing her drawers. With one rip, they were in shreds.

  “Cam!” she gasped in shock, jerking up on her elbows.

  “I’ll buy you more.” He drew her forward until her hips balanced on the edge of the mattress. Her dark curls glistened and the scent of her arousal rose to tease his nostrils.

  “Good thing I married a rich man.” She lay back, tangling her hands in the sheets.

  “Very wise, my dear.”

  He wasn’t entirely joking. This week, he’d torn three pairs of drawers, ruined two gowns, and left a nightdress in tatters. Their battle for supremacy had been tough on her wardrobe.

  Yet tonight he discovered that he’d always sought an equal, not a subordinate.

  “What are you doing?” she asked nervously.

  He kneeled on the floor between her legs. Her scent was earthy, luscious, familiar. Like her daytime self, but richer, more evocative. “Admiring the duchess.”

  He lifted his head from contemplating her secret places. She really was lovely. She was particularly lovely sleek with desire.

  “The duchess is blushing.” She reached to shield herself.

  He caught her hand and placed a kiss on each fingertip, then set her hand beside her hip. Before she could protest, he bent his head and licked her cleft.

  Her flavor flooded his mouth. Salty and female and succulent. Like a delicious exotic fruit.

  She shuddered and her thighs spread wider. He loved that she didn’t hide her reaction. He licked her again, lingering at the sensitive flesh above her sex.

  She whimpered and wriggled. “That’s indecent.”

  He smiled into this hidden place and began to nip and suck and kiss her, taking her so far but stopping short of release. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling hard.

  “You leave me no inch of privacy,” she protested.

  He smiled into the soft skin of her thigh. “I’m a very thorough man, darling.”

  Her choked laugh ended on a gasp as he nipped her and returned to his exploration.

  “Please, please,” she moaned, rippling toward him.

  He fluttered his tongue and felt her clench. The sounds of her pleasure filled his ears. Despite his fantasies, he’d never imagined how powerful this act would prove. Holding her thighs, he plunged his tongue into her. He increased the pressure, biting gently at the sleek, swollen flesh until she moaned. Then he drew her into his mouth and she convulsed on a choked cry of completion.

  Eventually he raised his head. With one shaking hand, he wiped his mouth. Pen sprawled sideways across the bed, looking completely debauched and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. Her face was rosy. Her extravagant blue gown was rumpled. Her ebony hair tumbled about her shoulders. Her long white legs spread in ungainly abandon.

  Surely a woman who gave herself so wholeheartedly to physical satisfaction could hold nothing back. He placed a kiss on one smooth white thigh and rose above her, his hands flat against the mattress.

  Her black eyes found his immediately and he read warmth and trust and affection. And pleasure.

  And far away in the starry darkness, a closed door.

  Harry stirred from his doze. At his side, Sophie curled, warm, soft, and boneless. His hand idly traced patterns over her bare shoulder.

  For two, the chaise was delightfully cramped. In the grate, the fire burned down. He should tend to it. The idea drifted into his mind and drifted out again. His contentment left no room for anything but the beautiful girl who had just shown him the shining path to ecstasy.

  A carriage rattled past on the quiet street and like that, the imperatives of real life jabbed him to alertness. He had no idea what time it was and his pocket watch was in his coat across the room. But he knew that the hour approached when Sophie must return to Leath House if she meant to continue the pretense that she’d been at the British Museum.

  “Why are you laughing?” she asked drowsily, snuggling closer and setting her slender hand over his heart in a possessive gesture. Why shouldn’t she touch him like she owned him? She did.

  “You missed Lady Harmsworth’s lecture about Cistercian Abbeys.”

  “What a pity.” She laughed too.

  He buried his face in her tangled hair. Her scent made him drunk. Love surged up, choked him, made it impossible to speak. She was a total joy. He couldn’t live without her.

  When he caught his breath, he loosened his hold, although she hadn’t complained. “Sophie, you distract me.”

  She sent him a look that jolted heat through him. “Shall I distract you again?”

  For a moment, he stared at her, lost in the glorious thought of making love to her once more. Then the clock outside struck ten, reminding him how soon she must leave. He sat up and drew her beside him.

  “Sophie, we need to talk. I didn’t bring you here to ruin you.” He waited for a twinge of guilt, but he was only happy and grateful.

  She sobered and stared at him. “Are you sorry?”

  He shook his head. “I should be, but I’m not.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m not either. I must be wicked.”

  “No, you’re wonderful.” He couldn’t resist kissing her, but he stopped before they distracted one another again. “Perhaps you’d better get dressed.”

  To his relief, she rose and collected her scattered undergarments. Manfully he strove to ignore the sight of her moving naked around the room with an ease that made his heart somersault.

  In between helping her back to respectability and dressing himself, he calmed down enough to think beyond the unforgettable moments they’d just shared. He joined her on the chaise, gazing into eyes still hazy with pleasure. He hoped like hell that she didn’t run into Leath tonight. One glimpse at her radiant face and her brother would know she’d been up to no good.

  “Sophie, we can’t go on like this.”

  “Don’t approach James again. Since your sister married Sedgemoor, he’s more set against you than ever.”

  “I learned my lesson last time.” He tightened his grip on her slender fingers. “We have to get married.”

  “Harry, I’ve just given myself to you.” She stared uncompromisingly at him. “You’d better marry me.”

  She didn’t say what they both knew, that if he’d placed a baby in her womb, the issue of their marriage became more urgent than ever. His heart gave a thud of excitement at the thought of her bearing his child. “I want us to run away together.”

  Shocked she tugged her hands free. “To Scotland?”

  He inhaled and spoke the words that had increasingly seemed the solution to everything working against them. “To America.”

  “Harry—”

  He rushed on before she could object. “We can start afresh. In New York, we’ll be beyond your brother’s reach.”

  “America,” she said as if he’d suggested flying to the moon. “I don’t know anyone in America.”

  “I don’t either.” He caught her hands, needing the physical contact. “That’s the glory of it, my darling. We’ll be free, free to become the people we’re meant to be.”

  “I’m not sure.” Her fingers twined around his as though he offered protection against her fear, when he was the one who had frightened her.

  “Sophie, I know it’s not what you dreamed. I know you wanted a wedding at St. George’s, and James walking you down the aisle, and a place in society.”

  “Those things don’t matter. But leaving my family and my country does. Can’t we stay in England?”

  He tried not to be disappointed at her lack of enthusiasm. “Your brother will hound us. I wouldn’t put kidnapping past him. The gossip about our elopement will dog us for the rest of our lives. If we stay here, we’ll never outrun the scandal.”

  “You ask so much.”

  “I know.” He paused. “The decision is yours. You’ve got more to lose than I have.”


  She looked troubled. “We’ve become lovers. I have no choice.”

  He sighed and spoke the grim truth. “Sophie, I hate to say it, but you’re a great heiress from an influential family, whatever your uncle did. Many men will overlook your lack of virginity in exchange for your fortune and your brother’s favor.”

  Her lips turned down with disgust. “That’s not how I want to live.”

  He raised her hands and kissed them, feeling like a blackguard. He really should have talked to her before he took the irrevocable action of sleeping with her. “You can’t have the life you were born to lead and marry me, my love.”

  She regarded him somberly. In that moment, something changed within her. The girl who spoke had grown up in some subtle way. “You’re forcing me to choose?”

  He released her and stood. The urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her into compliance was too powerful when he sat only inches away. “I must.”

  She scrambled to her feet, delicate jaw setting with determination. “Can you walk away from me?”

  “If it’s for your good, I can.” The thought of never seeing her, never kissing her, hell, after tonight, never making love to her, cut like a blade. “I tried to do the decent thing. I asked your brother for your hand. But he’ll never countenance me as a brother-in-law.”

  “We can wait.”

  “No, we can’t.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Sophie, we’ll get caught. And when we do, the world will sneer at you and call you vile names. You deserve better than that.”

  He waited for her to disagree with what they both knew to be true. Instead she wrapped her arms around her chest and stared blindly into space. “But America?”

  He fought the impulse to draw her close and say that none of this mattered. They’d found paradise in this house. They could find it again. If they ignored the outside world, the outside world would ignore them.

  Sadly neither he nor Sophie was fool enough to believe that nonsense. “We could go to France or Italy. Pen has friends on the Continent.”

  “Friends who write letters to England.”

  He flinched at Sophie’s stark assessment. She’d reached the same conclusion that he had. The Continent was both too far away and too close for them to establish themselves free of scandal.

  “At least in America, they speak English,” she said in a small voice.

  “So they claim,” he said drily.

  Sophie studied him with an agonized yearning that made his belly cramp with denial. He saw her regret. He saw her count everything on his side and everything on her brother’s side. He already knew which balance carried the most weight.

  She meant to say no. After all they’d been through, all they’d been to each other, all that had happened tonight, she’d leave him and retreat to the safety of her brother’s care. She’d marry bloody Desborough and grace high society for the rest of her life. And in a few years wonder just what madness had possessed her that she’d almost discarded a secure future for the sake of Harry Thorne’s bright black eyes.

  Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

  But what did he have to offer? Love. Nothing else. Right now, he couldn’t see why she’d make any other choice but to stay with Leath.

  “When do we go?”

  He was so sure she’d refuse that it took a few seconds to understand what her question meant. “What did you say?”

  The shadows left her eyes and she gazed at him with a trust that made his heart swell. “I’m happy to go to America with you.”

  “Really?” he asked in a daze.

  As if the impetus shifted from him to her, she placed her arms around him. She stared at him with that unconditional love that he knew he didn’t deserve, but which he’d do his damnedest to perpetuate. “I threw my lot in with you months ago. Let’s take the next step in our adventure.”

  He was too shocked to respond to her embrace. “What about your brother?”

  Sadness dulled her gaze for the first time since she’d agreed to this impetuous scheme. “I hope he’ll forgive me. I hope he’ll come to see you for the wonderful man you are. But I love you. I can’t lose you. I won’t tamely give in to James’s demands and marry a man I don’t love.”

  The reality of Sophie’s concession gradually washed over him, sweeping his doubts away on a tide of purpose. His arms lashed around her. “We’ll go tomorrow night. I’ll wait outside the mews at Leath House. If you can’t get away, I’ll try again the next night.”

  She laughed and if there was an edge of hysteria, he couldn’t blame her. He’d miss Pen and Elias. And some of his friends. But America brimmed with exciting possibilities. And he’d have Sophie. That above all made the future beckon bright and hopeful. She on the other hand gave up so much, including a beloved family and her reputation. He couldn’t believe that she loved him enough to do this. The fact that she did made him love her even more.

  She regarded him with a slight wobble in her smile, but a jaunty tilt to her chin. “Our new life starts today.”

  Harry spoke gravely, wanting her to know that he’d never take her sacrifice lightly. “I swear I’ll make you happy, Sophie. You won’t regret for one moment that you decided to come with me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The soft murmur of voices disturbed Pen’s troubled dreams of pursuing Cam through rooms flooded with seawater.

  Her body was heavy with pleasure. And exhaustion. They’d been to the opera, then a private supper party with the Harmsworths and the Hillbrooks. She hadn’t stumbled home until two. She stirred and reached out for Cam, but his side of the bed was empty. Only recently. The sheets still held traces of warmth. She blinked dazed eyes. The door to the corridor outside was ajar and she saw the flicker of a candle.

  “What the devil does he want in the middle of the night?” Cam muttered in a low voice just outside the bedroom.

  “He was most adamant, Your Grace,” their butler Dixon whispered back.

  “At—” Cam broke off. “What time is it?”

  “Just gone half past four, Your Grace.”

  Half past four? She’d been asleep an hour. No wonder she felt so groggy. Who on earth had called in the middle of the night? Curiosity struggled up through the thick-headedness of interrupted sleep.

  “Tell him to come back at a civilized time.”

  “I suggested that his lordship wait until morning. He responded… discourteously.”

  Cam sighed with irritation. “I’ll be down directly. Please show Lord Leath into the library.”

  Leath? Sick terror lurched through her belly and banished the last of her drowsiness. Pen was wide awake now and wished to heaven she wasn’t.

  Leath wasn’t waiting in the library. Instead, dark eyes sparking with fury, he stood in the hall, glaring up to where Cam descended the stairs in his red dressing gown. The marquess tapped his riding crop against one palm. Cam stiffened as he recognized the action’s controlled violence.

  This visit would clearly be short—Leath hadn’t even removed his topcoat. Why the hell was he here? The Neville Fairbrother scandal must have turned his mind.

  “Where is she?” Leath barked as if addressing a slovenly groom in an inn yard.

  “Good evening, my lord.” Cam spoke calmly, despite his urge to toss the bumptious rogue out on his ear. “Or perhaps I should say good morning.”

  Leath’s heavy brows lowered and he took a menacing pace forward. “Don’t play with me, you condescending bastard. Where’s my sister?”

  “How the devil should I know?” His sister? What in Hades was this? Impatience roughened Cam’s question. “If you can’t keep track of your dashed relatives, why on earth should I?”

  Leath’s voice vibrated with rage. “According to her maid, she left the house after dinner and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “I still don’t understand what I can do about it.” Cam walked down the last steps to face down the fuming marquis. Few men matched Cam’s height, but Leath was well over six feet.
“If she’s missing, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation.”

  Leath’s snort conveyed no amusement. “Innocent explanation, my arse. She’s with that blackguard Harry Thorne.”

  Ah, at last he knew why Leath had singled him out for this visit. Cam’s voice dripped hauteur. “The duchess isn’t her brother’s keeper.”

  Leath’s attention skimmed past Cam. His glittering eyes narrowed. “No, she’s his accomplice.”

  Pen spoke before Cam could dismiss the mad accusation. “I don’t know where Sophie is.”

  Cam whirled around in surprise. Pen poised in frozen immobility a few steps above, one hand resting on the gilt banister. In her rich gold brocade dressing gown, with her shining black hair flowing around her, she stood like a queen.

  He expected her to look appalled and shocked.

  She looked appalled and shocked. And unmistakably guilty.

  His heart slammed to a disbelieving standstill. “Pen?” he asked uncertainly, fleetingly forgetting their audience. He stepped back so he could see both Leath and his wife.

  Pen didn’t glance his way. Instead she regarded Leath with a horrified comprehension that spoke volumes about her deceit. Her grip on the banister tightened until her knuckles shone white.

  “Pen, go back to bed,” Cam snapped, feeling as though the ground crumbled beneath his feet.

  “No, she needs to stay and tell me what she knows,” Leath demanded. “Sophie’s not at the Russell Square house. That’s the first place I went.”

  “Cam, I’d like to help,” she said shakily.

  “Haven’t you helped enough?” he muttered furiously for Pen’s ears only. When she flinched, he hardened himself against any guilt. She’d brought this on herself.

  Cam saw a crack in Leath’s rage as he stared at Pen. He might be angry, but beneath his anger he was worried sick. “For God’s sake, if she’s here, tell me. I won’t punish her. I just want to know she’s safe.”

  “Pen, just what have you done?” Cam growled.

  She cast him a desperate glance, then focused on Leath. “Sophie’s not here. On my honor, I’d tell you if she was.”