She was determined to discover the answers to her questions. To do so, she would have to get through Bennett’s armor of indifference. And she had an inkling how to go about it.
Seizing the opportunity, she said sweetly, “We both know that’s not my name. Why don’t you call me Tessa instead?”
“If you’ll return the favor and call me Ransom.” He paused. “You surprise me.”
She tipped her head to one side. “How so?”
“You seem different. From the rest of your family.”
“You insult me, sir,” she said hotly.
“I don’t mean to.” He studied her with those curious eyes of his, which had a slight upward tilt to them, like a cat’s. “You really don’t want to marry me, do you?”
I’d rather take a hot poker in the eye. Aware of their audience, however, she traded her retort for a more diplomatic reply. “I don’t know you. How could I know if we’d suit?”
“The prospect of being a duchess suits most women.”
“I’m not like most women.”
“I’m beginning to see that,” he murmured.
Her cheeks warmed at his blatant male appreciation. In the past, she’d never had reason to flirt. No man had been worth the effort, and she had little patience for the subtleties of fan twirling, eyelash fluttering, and meaningless flummery.
She snuck a glance backward. The muscle ticking in Bennett’s square jaw buoyed her hope. Perhaps flirtation had its uses after all. If the simpering simpletons at Mrs. Southbridge’s could master flirting, then, by God, so could she.
Deliberately, she turned back to the duke. Put on her most charming smile. “And I’m beginning to see that you’re not as bad a fellow as I assumed.”
Ransom stared at her a moment. Then he laughed; it was a surprisingly hearty sound.
I wonder what Bennett’s laugh sounds like, she thought wistfully. He’d never laughed in her presence. He was too busy brooding or giving her a lecture.
“What are my presumed faults, pray tell?” Ransom led her past the fountain.
“You’re a rake,” she said baldly.
“I find that bachelorhood is a state that requires the occasional relief from tedium.”
“More than occasional from what I’ve heard.”
Instead of denying it, Ransom smiled. “I don’t like tedium. I have a feeling we have that in common…Tessa.”
Although she’d given leave for him to call her by her first name, the way his voice caressed those syllables made her cheeks heat. The intimacy felt indecent, as if she’d been caught without her unmentionables.
“You’ll address her as Miss Todd.” Suddenly, Bennett was by her side. He no longer looked calm. In the moonlight, his face was hard, menacing, his body taut with leashed power. “She is a lady, and you’ll pay her the proper respect.”
A thrill coursed through her.
“Call off your guard dog.” Ransom sounded annoyed. “He’s foaming at the mouth.”
She recalled herself enough to say, “Step back, Bennett.”
He didn’t move. His gaze was locked on Ransom, his big hands curled into fists.
Zounds, she couldn’t allow bloodshed to happen. She placed a hand on his chest, the powerful thud of his heart making her own throb in unison. “I said step back.”
His gaze swung to her. Her breath caught at the banked fire behind the wire frames.
Then he stepped back.
Adjusting his lapels, Ransom said, “Let’s continue, shall we?”
Tessa was keenly aware of the crunch of Bennett’s boots behind them as they walked along the perimeter of the garden. She knew she ought to flirt with Ransom some more, but she was already bored with it. Bennett absorbed her attention. She wondered what he was thinking. If he’d intervened because of his personal feelings for her…or if he was only doing his duty.
“Other than my intolerance for boredom,” Ransom said smoothly, “do you have any other aversion to marrying me?”
“Other than my dowry, do you have any other reason for marrying me?”
“No.”
She slanted him a look, surprised by his frankness. They’d circled back to the fountain again, a tall, vertical structure topped by a large stone pineapple. Water sprayed upward from its leaves before tinkling into the tiered basins below.
Instead of walking past, Ransom stopped. Turned her to face him.
“Marriage is a necessity for me, I don’t deny it. But I would not have you be an unwilling bride.” He tipped her chin up with one finger. “While my title might hold little appeal, there are other enticements I could offer you.”
Silver crescents reflected in his eyes. It was oddly mesmerizing.
Bennett’s deep voice cut in. “Miss Todd, you should go back inside.”
She twisted her head, saw the familiar shuttered look on his face. Resentment surged.
“Why?” she challenged.
Bennett’s nostrils flared. “For once, just do as you’re told.”
Just because she desired him didn’t mean that she’d let him lecture her as if she were a child. Moreover, she was tired of his contradictions. Of being led on by crumbs of hope that led nowhere.
Her temper sparked. “Why don’t you do as you’re told and stay out of my way, Professor?”
“Your master’s orders were to escort not interfere.” The lethal edge in Ransom’s tone gave Tessa pause. Made her wonder what lay beneath the duke’s disaffected veneer. “Make yourself scarce.”
Bennett’s frame vibrated with tension, his shoulders up and jaw clenched. For an instant, she feared that he might retaliate. While she was confident he could pound Ransom to a fare-thee-well, there would be consequences for trouncing a duke.
Before she could intervene, Bennett turned heel and stalked to the other side of the fountain. His desertion was oddly deflating. It obviously didn’t take much for him to give up on her.
Because he doesn’t give a damn about you.
Hands cupped her shoulders, and she was turned to face the duke.
“Now, where were we?” he murmured.
I don’t know about you, but I’m stuck on that idiot on the other side of the fountain.
The truth was not just annoying, it was mortifying. Why was she setting her cap for a man who didn’t want her? Why was she setting herself up for more rejection? Hadn’t she suffered enough from her father, her grandfather, and even those blasted twits at Southbridge’s?
Ransom reached out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Ah, yes, I believe I was about to demonstrate some of the advantages of being my duchess.”
She saw his intent, and a desperate notion struck her. Maybe the reason she was hooked on Bennett was because he was the first man to kiss her. Maybe if she kissed another man, she’d find it just as earth-shattering.
Maybe if I kiss the one in front of me, I’ll realize there’s nothing special about Bennett…
She held still as Ransom’s face came closer. He was a rake, so if anyone knew how to kiss, it ought to be him. Seeing the practiced smolder in his half-lidded eyes, she had to quell a sudden, inappropriate urge to laugh. His lips touched hers: the kiss was refined, smooth, skilled. It was pleasant…and as exciting as tepid tea.
Drat and double drat.
A sudden blast jerked her head back. The next instant, icy water rushed over her.
She gasped, and Ransom sprang away from her, shouting, “What the devil?”
Tessa stared at the fountain: the top had…blown off? Pieces of the stone pineapple littered the fountain’s basin. Instead of a sedate trickle, water was spraying everywhere, soaking both her and Ransom. With a squeak, she jumped back just in time to avoid another dousing.
“Put this on.” Bennett appeared by her side. Yanking off Ransom’s sodden coat and tossing it aside, he replaced it with his own. The sturdy wool was dry and warm.
Cocooned in his heat and scent, she sputtered, “Wh-what happened?”
“It appears that the fou
ntain malfunctioned,” he said.
His tone was bland. Too bland. Before she could question him, she sneezed.
In the background, Ransom cursed as he emptied water from his shoes.
“His Grace will be awhile.” Taking her arm, Bennett steered her toward the house. “Let’s get you inside before you encounter any other mishaps.”
11
“You’ve been a naughty miss,” he told her.
Tessa sat in front of him, perched on his desk, her plump mouth sulky and eyes inviting. With her legs crossed, one hand leaning insolently on the blotter, she said, “Then why don’t you teach me a lesson…Professor?”
The sparkling challenge in her eyes moved him into action. Rising from his chair, he stripped her layers until she was bared to him. All the while, she watched him, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded. He laid her against the desk, his cock swelling as he took in the erotic contrast between her snowy skin and the dark wood.
“Be a good girl, and don’t move,” he told her.
For once, she obeyed him. He rewarded her acquiescence by tasting her…everywhere. Her plush mouth, the plump lobe of her ear, her impudent little nipples. He left no inch of her silken loveliness unexplored. She sighed as he trailed his tongue down the shallow valley between her tits, over her white, quivering belly. His hands clamped on her sleek thighs, spreading them wide.
The sight of her pussy made his rod jerk, pre-seed wetting the head. Parting her silky nest, he ran a finger along her exposed pink slit, and satisfaction rolled through him.
“Christ, you’re wet,” he murmured. “Do you like me petting your pussy?”
“Yes.” Her eyes were smoky green with desire. “Do it some more.”
“Ask me nicely.”
“Please,” she said, pouting.
“Please what?”
Her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth. “Please pet my pussy?”
A request he wasn’t about to deny. He caressed her slick folds, his breath coming harshly as her honey dripped over his fingers. When her hips arched into his touch, her head moving restlessly on the desk, he knew she was close. Knew how to take her over. Lifting her thighs over his shoulders, he bent to taste her sweetness.
A shocked moan broke from her as he ate her pussy. Her slender thighs tensed around his head, and he kept at it, licking her until her wanton pleas filled the room. Oh yes, Professor, please…
He found her pearl, sucking it at the same time that he eased his middle finger into her untried passage. God, she was small and tight. Heat roiled in his balls as her virginal cunny squeezed him. She cried out, and he groaned as his own climax came roaring over him…
Harry awoke with a start. He was in bed, naked, his chest heaving. The sheet was tangled at his waist, tented by his enormous erection. He was rock-hard, pulsing, his cockhead weeping in anticipation.
He itched to finish himself off.
Instead, he raked both hands through his hair and stared up into the darkness.
What the hell am I doing?
Things were getting out of hand. First, he’d lost control kissing Tessa, then he’d rigged the fountain to prevent the duke from kissing her, and now he was having an erotic dream about her. A dream that had felt so real the scent and taste of her still lingered, making his gut clench with hunger.
Even Celeste hadn’t managed to rouse such an intensity of feeling, not that she hadn’t tried. She’d pitted him and her other suitors against one another, using jealousy to control them. As besotted as Harry had been, he’d seen through that particular ploy and refused to play her game.
Seeing the Duke of Ranelagh and Somerville with Tessa, however, he’d experienced a strong primal urge to tear the bastard from limb to limb. To lay claim to Tessa, even though she wasn’t his and could never be. She was the granddaughter of the suspect he was investigating; his very presence in her life was a lie.
There was only one logical solution to this present mess: he had to complete this assignment and get the hell out of here. No more waiting, passive observing. After leaving Baroness von Friesing’s party tonight, Black had gone to stay with his daughter: this was the perfect time to search his study. Either Harry would find evidence of the cutthroat’s guilt or he would inform Inspector Davies that his objectivity was compromised. That he could no longer carry out the mission.
Dressing quickly, Harry left the mews for the main house. Passing the front drawing room, he noticed a slant of light up ahead. The door to the billiards room, next to Black’s study, was ajar. He thought about turning around, but soft murmurs came from the room, drew him forward. He peered through the crack in the door.
Christ. It was Tessa.
Turn around. Don’t go in.
But he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Couldn’t stop the need that shot through him like a potent drug. She was clad in a frilly white wrapper, her glossy curls tumbling free, and she appeared to be playing billiards by herself. The enormous baize-covered table dwarfed her, creating a whimsical tableau in which she might have been a little girl playing at being a grown-up.
As he watched, she made a shot. His brows raised as the ball dropped neatly into a pocket.
“Your turn,” she said.
Who the devil is she playing with?
Curiosity got the better of him. Unable to see through the narrow opening, he cracked the door open wider…and saw Swift Nick perched on a corner of the table. The ferret rose on its hind legs, waving its front paws, and Tessa laughed.
The merry sound slid through Harry like warmed brandy.
“All paws tonight, are you?” She scratched behind the animal’s ears, and Swift Nick’s long body arched in contentment. “Never fear, dearest, I shall play for you.”
In spite of himself, Harry felt his lips twitch. Her playfulness was charming. If that trait didn’t lead her to play devious tricks on him, he might find her…adorable.
“Let’s up the ante, shall we?” she went on in a conspiratorial whisper. “If I make this shot, then it means he does like me.”
Harry stilled. Who is she talking about? That bastard Ransom…?
She circled the billiards table, flitting in and out of his view like an elusive hummingbird. Finally, she leaned over the green baize, her back to the door, presenting him with a view of her pertly rounded bottom. He swallowed as she wriggled about, trying to reach the ball with her stick. When she couldn’t manage it, she hiked up her nightgown, hoisting herself onto the table’s edge.
Christ Almighty.
Lust and fascination riveted him to the spot. She was perched on the side of the table, her skirts pinned beneath her, her bared legs swinging idly as she contemplated her shot. Those limbs were white, slender, even shapelier than he’d imagined; he swallowed as the image flashed from his dream: her legs draped over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back as he feasted on her…
“Drat and double drat.”
Her curse pierced his erotic thrall. She’d missed the shot, the ball hitting the rail and rolling lazily toward the opposite end of the table. She hopped to the ground, her hands planting on her hips. In a blink, she transformed from siren to sprite. She looked so annoyed, so damned delightful, that he had to choke back a laugh.
She whirled around. “Who’s there?”
Ah, hell. He expelled a breath. Feeling like a damned Peeping Tom, he entered the room.
“Bennett.” She stared at him. “You gave me a fright.”
He stopped a safe distance from her. “If a pack of cutthroats didn’t scare you, I doubt I could accomplish the feat.”
Her wide gaze didn’t waver. “What are you doing here this time of night?”
Since he couldn’t very well tell her he’d been about to break into her grandfather’s study, he fished for an excuse. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d look for something to read.” He spotted the half-empty glass on a nearby table, and his brows inched upward. “Brandy?”
“I couldn’t sleep either. I thought brandy and bil
liards might help.” She wrinkled her nose. “If I go to bed now, however, I’ll just have nightmares about that missed shot.”
He stifled a smile. Her competitiveness was damned cute.
“You can’t make an accurate shot when you’re off-balance,” he told her.
“I wasn’t off-balance. My height makes it necessary to lean on the table.” Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re an expert at billiards?”
Billiards had nearly funded his education at Cambridge.
He shrugged. “I’ve played.”
Her brows lifted. “Care to go a round?”
Her invitation surprised him. Accepting it, he knew, would be extremely ill-advised. The smart, rational thing to do was to turn around and leave.
On the other hand, he’d never in his life backed down from a sporting challenge.
He inclined his head. “All right. One game.”
* * *
Tessa managed to keep her expression calm while excitement tumbled through her.
Being no fool, she was certain that Bennett had been behind the exploding fountain. She had to admire his ingenuity: rigging a fountain was no small feat. One that required more expertise than even her bucket-over-the-door gambit. The fact that he’d taken the pains to set up the elaborate prank filled her with hope.
Could he be interested in me? Even a little?
Lying in her bed, she’d come to a realization: she wanted Bennett. He was the man she was supposed to spend her life with. He was her lightning, and she’d been struck. Of course, this led to some problems. Her grandfather wanted to marry her off to Ransom, and there was the matter of securing Bennett’s affections. She’d deal with the former when necessary, and as for the latter…
Blacks never gave up without a fight. They didn’t mope because of one rejection; they dusted themselves off and went another round. And another and another, as many as necessary to achieve their goal.
Since her goal was Bennett, she would have to fight to win his heart (and other body parts).
The truth had been dazzlingly simple. And contemplating matters further, she’d recognized that she hadn’t exactly done a stellar job of endearing herself to Bennett. What man would want a woman who served him salty tea, embarrassed him in a tea shop, had him nearly arrested for theft, and destroyed his favorite boots? Then, to top it all off, she’d thrown herself at him without any warning.
The Duke Identity: Game of Dukes, Book 1 Page 10