Speak of the Duke: The Wayward Woodvilles Book 3 Read online

  Cyrus frowned, unsure where such thoughts came from. The feel of her tongue slipping over his lips caught him unawares. He held the nape of her neck, his other hand tipping her head back farther to deepen the kiss. She was sweet, luscious, and bold.

  Their tongues tangled, and the kiss changed. Altered. No longer was it an example of what she could have with another man. The man she would eventually marry. No. This was a kiss from a man who desired the woman in his arms. A kiss one gave a lover before thoroughly bedding them. Inappropriate and scandalous, a kiss he could not stop and did not want to end.

  Her hands settled against his chest, judging the muscles beneath her palms. Her little murmur of delight told him she liked what she touched.

  "I could eat you alive," he said, kissing her hard, devouring her mouth as if his life depended on her kiss. Her fingers gripped his hair before her arms went about his neck.

  Images of them abed, of her wild and fired hot from his touch, bombarded his mind. He wrenched her onto his lap, his hand slipping from her waist to mold her breast.

  She undulated against him, pushing into his touch, seeking more. He gave her what she wanted. Hell, what he wanted. His cock, rigid in his pants, craved her heat. He wanted her, here and now.

  Stop, Cyrus. She's innocent.

  He fought for control, to rein in his desires. He could not take a virginal miss, but damn it all to hell, there was something spectacular about the one in his arms.

  He had thought her prickly and cold. She was anything but. She was all soft curves and ample flesh. Her kisses rocked him to his core and made him as hot as Hades.

  He slipped the bodice of her gown down, sliding his finger over her pebbled nipple. She gasped, and the kiss turned molten, fast and wanton. She pushed into him, and his back came up hard against the house's stone wall, and he groaned.

  "Julia," he begged. "You're a seductress who'll haunt my dreams."

  "You tease as well, my lord," she gasped.

  "Cyrus. Call me Cyrus, please," he begged of her.

  Her wicked grin almost undid him. "I cannot return to the ball having spent in my breeches. You must stop, for I do not have the power to do so."

  "Stop what?" she asked, all innocence. "I thought it was you who was to show me what I could have with a husband?"

  He laid his hand over her hip, stilling her movements. He took the opportunity to feel her thigh and work it beneath his fingers. "I'm sure you're an educated woman who's read books and does not need me to explain in any further detail what should happen if you keep rubbing against my cock." Her eyes flared at his crass speech, but she did not flee. On the contrary, she grinned, raising one brow.

  "Whatever do you mean will happen?" she asked again, moving once more against his manhood. He clamped his jaw shut on the expletive he wanted to shout out. He was a marquess, for God's sake. The future Duke of Rothes. Not a man who came in his breeches after an interlude with a virginal debutante at a society ball.

  She's not even a debutante, you dunce.

  "Do you not like how I make you feel?" she asked him, placing small, quick kisses against his lips.

  "It is me who is supposed to be showing you what it is like to have a man kiss you. Show you how pleasurable the mouth can be when joined with another."

  "Hmm," she sighed. "I think I know now what you're referring to in this little game, my lord. I do think you have won."

  He clasped her hip, helping her undulate against his cock. He wanted to come, to find pleasure from her even if that meant that he would have to leave. He would see her again. There would be other nights to seduce her away.

  The Season was young, after all. "Kiss me again," he begged her, feeling his balls tighten. She did as he asked, the force of her embrace snapping his head against the wall. He came, hard and long, groaned his release into her mouth like a green lad during his first time with a woman.

  She kissed him as the last exquisite tremors settled through his body. "Actually," she said, pulling back and meeting his gaze. "I think in this game, we have both won. Do you not agree?" she asked him.

  He nodded, fighting to keep his bearings. "I do," he gasped. Determined that this would not be the only time they were together. Not if he could convince her otherwise.

  It was not over between him and Julia Woodville. Not by any length.

  Chapter

  One

  The Season, 1807

  Miss Julia Woodville, some would say, was the most fortunate young woman in London, for the Season of 1807 had been a triumph indeed. She had two sisters overlooking her debut, the Duchess of Derby and Viscountess Leigh. Two gently bred country girls who had landed themselves at the top of the Haute ton.

  It was not an easy feat and not one that Julia wanted to aspire to, no matter how much her mama wished it. Unfortunately, it was also something that her sisters seemed incapable of understanding too.

  She stood out on the terrace, remembering another night such as this but a year ago. Had it been so long since she had enjoyed a night of revelry?

  Guests mingled indoors and out at her sister the Duchess of Derby's London home, which, although they called it a town house, was anything but that. It was a mansion and took up a good portion of Berkeley Square. The Georgian house exuded money, wealth, and power, and now she was part of that world. The expectations on her were immense, and she wanted none of it.

  Why could she not have been able to marry a fine country gentleman when she was ready to marry at all? The London gentlemen were fickle and liars, a certainty she knew very well already.

  Julia glanced down the terrace, watching society at play. All of them were scheming and spoke of what they assumed the other person wanted to hear, not what the actual truth may be.

  This game they played during the Season was not what she had envisioned for her twentieth year, and yet, here she was, expected to marry Lord Ronald Howard, Viscount Payne. She did not love him, even if she did like him very much, and that was the rub. Would her family wish her to marry if she only liked the gentleman? Disappointment ran through her like poison. Although she had never aspired to marry, now that it was expected of her, she did at least wish to marry a man whom she loved and who loved her in return.

  Not to fall at any rake's feet which would lead one down a path lined with disappointment and hurt.

  "Miss Julia, here you are. I have been searching all over."

  The familiar voice of Lord Payne sounded behind her, and she schooled her features before turning and smiling in welcome. "Lord Payne, you have arrived. Tardy as ever," she mentioned, knowing he was over an hour late. Something he was famously on time for as always.

  His cheeks reddened, and she wondered where he had been before arriving at the ball. "Apologies, Miss Julia," he said, bowing a little. "I lost track of time at a previous event, but alas, I am here now. Should we go back indoors and do a turn about the room?"

  She nodded, proceeding him and trying not to flinch when he took her hand and placed it on his arm. Several guests threw them knowing glances. She discerned what they were thinking. That Lord Payne and herself would soon be announcing their engagement. They would not be, not if she could avoid it.

  They came up to some of their mutual friends. Julia moved to stand beside her best friend, Reign Hall from Grafton, who had come up to London to debut with her. Where Julia was tall, Reign was of normal height and had a lovely golden hue to her skin. Julia had always been jealous of her sun-kissed skin since she always believed herself to be so pale that she would disappear if she were ever to step before a white wall.

  "I see Lord Payne found you, Julia," Reign stated, watching his lordship with boredom that Julia often felt when around Lord Payne. She did not want to be so hard on him, for he was kind and tried to be affectionate, but there wasn't that spark that she wanted there to be between them.

  A spark brought to life by a rogue the year before.

  She closed her eyes and fought to remove the memory of Lord Chilsten from her m
ind. The rogue had fled to Scotland not long after their kiss and married some Scottish woman no one had ever heard about or even seen. He did not deserve a moment's thought at all.

  "He did locate me," she answered, clearing her throat, trying to remove the boredom that chased her every word. "I do not know, Reign," she whispered, pulling her friend away to ensure privacy from those of their set. "I know he's asked Papa for my hand in marriage, and Father has agreed so long as I agree, but I do not feel anything for him."

  "Nothing at all?" her friend asked, with compassion in her blue gaze.

  Julia shook her head. "Nothing but benign friendship, and I want to feel more than that. The way my sisters and their husbands look at each other whenever they think no one is watching them is what I want in a marriage. I want passion and love, and well, I know I will not have that with Lord Payne."

  "Maybe if you let him kiss you. You know," Reign whispered, leaning in close. "Like you allowed Lord Chilsten. Maybe if you kissed him too, things would be clearer. If there is no spark, you know he is not for you."

  Julia cringed. Not wanting to kiss his lordship at all. And she was certain that should she allow such liberties, he would be all but assured her heart was his, and he would make an offer of marriage. No, she could not do it.

  "I cannot. The thought of doing such a thing with his lordship makes my stomach churn in the most unlikeable way. No, I could not test that theory with him." Not that she could test it with anyone. Not really. She thought back to her night with Lord Chilsten. As much as she had stated to his face that she disliked his lordship, and she certainly did not approve of his conduct or reputation in town, she had wanted to kiss the rogue. And what a kiss it had been.

  One she had dreamed about for weeks afterward. Whenever she closed her eyes, she relived the feel of his muscular chest, his heart beating fast as they kissed and he found pleasure in her arms with a recklessness that still left her aching.

  What if she never found that with someone else? What if she only ever reacted so with a man who was no longer on the marriage mart? A man who had married and disappeared to Scotland.

  If that occurred, she would do her duty and marry a man she liked above anyone else, even if there was no charged emotion between them.

  "If you feel so strongly against Lord Payne, you do need to discuss the matter with him and allow him to choose another. If your skin crawls at the thought of kissing his lordship or even bedding him, the marriage will be a disaster."

  "I know," Julia sighed. "I will discuss the matter with him, and soon. I merely need to pick my moment."

  Reign patted her arm before she took two glasses of ratafia from a passing footman. "Here, let us have a drink."

  Julia sipped the sweet beverage, staring out over the sea of heads, an ability she and only a few other gentlemen as tall as she were capable of doing. "Have you seen Lord Lupton-Gage is here this evening? Have you forgiven the marquess yet for splashing mud on your gown at the park the other day?" she asked her friend, keenly watching her reaction to hearing of the gentleman's presence at the ball. As much as her friend had protested at the disgraceful act that Julia still was not sure he knew he had done, her friend seemed overly engaged with a man she had never met before. Enough so that Julia could not help but think Reign secretly admired the marquess.

  "I have not," Reign protested, her eyes darting all over the room as if searching for the man of whom they now spoke. A welcome reprieve for Julia, for she did not want to speak of Lord Payne any further, nor think of the Marquess of Chilsten.

  "He is across from us, speaking to my sister, the duchess," Julia offered, sipping her drink to hide her smirk.

  Reign's mouth flattened into a displeased line. "Oh yes, there he is," her friend growled, and Julia laughed. "I shall not rest until I have become even with the man. He ruined my new walking gown Mama had paid extra for it to be made quickly. I shall not forgive him."

  "I do not think he saw you when he ran through the puddle. If you remember, you were behind those small bushes hiding from Mr. Riley and merely stepped out from behind them at the most inappropriate time."

  Reign glanced up at her, her eyes wide with hurt. "You are not defending him, are you?"

  Julia shook her head, dismissing the notion from her friend's mind. "Of course not, but he is very handsome and well, to be introduced and to mention what had happened at the park is a good way to start a conversation. Of course, if you are inclined to think the same way as me."

  Reign chewed her lip, and Julia looked back to where Lord Lupton-Gage stood with her sister, except now his attention was not on her sibling but on her friend. The interest in his lordship's eyes was not hard to see, for Julia had seen similar when she had first happened upon Lord Chilsten.

  The memory of him made her heart ache. Any woman would have presumed just as she had that after the sort of kiss they had shared, more would follow. That he would have—no matter her protestations—pursued her to see what may be, if anything.

  But he had not. She had not seen him again, and then she had read of his marriage in Scotland over breakfast a month later.

  Could it have been a year already since that night? It was hard to fathom in all truth, for it felt as though it happened only yesterday. Never in her life had she wished more to be wrong about the notorious rake of London, but it would seem she had not been. He had moved on from her without nary a thought and married someone else. That she supposed was something for she could not see him marrying anyone unless he loved them, so the woman who became his wife was likely one he loved very much and one who had stolen a rogue’s heart.

  Reign gasped and clasped her arm, shaking her a little. And that is when she heard it, the other startled murmurs of the ton, the whispers and excitement from certain ladies who stood nearby.

  Julia glanced toward the door, and everything within her turned to stone. She felt her mouth gape in shock, and she shut it with a snap, schooling her features as quickly as possible.

  It could not be. She did not need him back in society, not when she was trying to find a husband who ignited all that he had within her.

  "Lord Chilsten is here. Do you think he brought his wife?" Reign asked, her eyes as wide as Julia knew hers to be.

  "I do not know. No one has ever heard of or seen her before. Maybe he has," she replied. Lord Chilsten bowed before their hosts, kissing the duchess’s gloved hand before glancing about the room as if looking for someone.

  The pit of her stomach clenched, and she held her breath.

  Waiting.

  Hoping.

  You're a fool, her mind mocked.

  And then their eyes met across the ballroom floor and she knew, right down to the silk slippers on her extremely long feet, that he had been looking for her.

  Julia jumped as the high-octave voice of Lord Payne spoke beside her. "Oh, would you look at that? Lord Chilsten has returned, and I see he has not brought his wife with him. Not surprising considering his history."

  Julia glanced at Lord Payne, or at least glanced down at him. "You believe he left her in Scotland?" she asked, looking back to Lord Chilsten, but not seeing him with her sister any longer.

  "Oh, I do not doubt it. He may be married, but I do not think he would care for the union. It is long known at the gentlemen's clubs and society at large that he never wished to be tied down to anyone. I will admit to being quite shocked at the reading of his marriage. No doubt there is scandal attached to it. No marriage of Chilsten's would be anything but associated with that word."

  Julia took in Lord Payne's words, but maybe his lordship was wrong. Mayhap Lord Chilsten had fallen in love. That at least gave her some comfort since the thought of such a thing made her all but green with envy.

  "Miss Julia, we meet again," the deep, gravelly voice ran over her like water, rejuvenating her parched heart after a long drought.

  She dipped into a curtsy and glanced up at Lord Chilsten. She had forgotten how very nice it was to look up and not dow
n at a gentleman with whom she conversed or danced. And certainly, this man who made her long for things she could never have.

  "Lord Chilsten, it seems that we do."

  He smiled, and she ached in places no lady ought to. For so long, she had wanted that feeling again, and to have it with a married man was not what she needed or wanted.

  Damn it all to hell. And damn him for marrying anyone, especially since it was not her.

  Chapter

  Two

  Cyrus drank in the sight of Julia Woodville after a year of not seeing her. He knew that she would attend the Duke and Duchess of Derby's ball and his being here and happening upon her was not by chance. Not that she would have him, nor would any of the ladies present, for that matter. Not when they found out the truth as to why he'd been absent from society for the past year. All of them would go running to their estates and close their polished doors in his face.

  But Julia Woodville was the only woman he wanted to seek out, and dance with if she agreed. He knew he could never make her fall in love with him, he was a rake, and his absence from London was only more proof of that, but he had to see her again. Drink in the sight of her, if only from afar.

  The poxy Lord Payne beside her looked at him as if he were not the marquess and future Scottish duke, but a bug squashed beneath his feet and it irked. His lordship was merely a viscount, and if he needed to remind him of that fact, he would do so. He may live a life of vice, of debauchery, but he’d be damned if he allowed anyone to look down their noses at him or his family.

  "Has it been a year since we have conversed? I can hardly believe it," he said, ignoring Lord Payne, who frowned down his long nose as if he'd swallowed something sour. More's the pity that he had not.

  Miss Julia smiled up at him, seemingly pleased at his presence. "I have not seen you since my sister the viscountess’s ball, my lord."