Page 68 of A Heart Disguised 1

Robin

Iblinked awake to find the sun playing truant high in the sky, its golden rays boldly invading the master chamber. My body was a delicious symphony of aches, each note a reminder of the duke’s… thorough dedication to our wedding night. I’d lost count of how many times he’d claimed me, how often his clever mouth and skilled hands had coaxed pleasure from my trembling flesh. The last memory I had before succumbing to exhaustion was of him still buried deep inside me, his mouth tormenting my oversensitive nipples as dawn’s first light crept across the horizon.

Sitting up amid the thoroughly debauched silk sheets, I took careful inventory of my various… souvenirs from our nocturnal activities. My backside, in particular, offered pointed commentary about the duke’s legendary stamina. With a knowing smirk, I channeled my healing magic through my body, watching as the tender aches melted away. How ironically perfect that my gift, meant for tending herbs and healing the sick, would prove so useful in keeping pace with an insatiable demon lord.

The massive bed was conspicuously empty beside me, its other occupant no doubt already buried in his ducal duties.No rest for the wicked, as they say, though after last night’s performance, I had to wonder where he found the energy.

I made my way to the bathroom on slightly unsteady legs, trying not to blush at the evidence of our passion that marked various surfaces throughout the chamber. The sofa would never be the same; the armchair had witnessed things that would make a courtesan blush, and that poor rug by the hearth… Well, at least we’d spared the balcony. The thought of being taken against the stone railing, exposed to the night air and possibly prying eyes, sent an unexpected heat coursing through me—one I quickly buried under a mountain of propriety.

The hot spring pool beckoned like a lover’s embrace, and I sank into its welcoming depths with a grateful sigh. Steam rose around me as I let the heat seep into my muscles, washing away the sticky remnants of our enthusiasm. As I soaked, memories of the night drifted through my mind like autumn leaves—the way he’d growled my name, how his eyes had glowed molten gold in the firelight, the feeling of those wicked fangs grazing my throat…

When the water began to cool, I reluctantly emerged, wrapping myself in a plush robe that felt sinfully soft against my sensitized skin. My stomach chose that moment to voice its complaints rather loudly—apparently multiple rounds of passionate lovemaking could work up quite an appetite.

I was contemplating whether to ring for a servant when the chamber door swung open, revealing none other than the duke himself. He filled the doorway with his imposing presence, looking as immaculate and composed as ever, while behind him trailed servants bearing trays laden with what appeared to be enough food to feed a small army.

They arranged the feast on the table near the hearth—thank all the gods we hadn’t defiled that particular piece of furniture—and I fought to keep my expression neutral as memories of exactly what we had defiled flashed through my mind.

The duke caught my eye, a knowing smirk playing upon his lips. “Hungry, my dear?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that made my breath catch in my throat.

“Starving, in fact,” I replied, watching the servants make their final arrangements. “Though I suppose a night of thorough ravishment does tend to work up quite an appetite.”

The servants scattered like autumn leaves in a sudden wind, their hasty departure suggesting they’d heard far too much already. Before I could reach for any of the tempting morsels laid out before us, strong arms swept me up with alarming ease. A most undignified squeal escaped my lips as I found myself suddenly airborne, clutching at the duke’s broad shoulders.

“Then let us see to your afternoon feast properly,” he rumbled, his voice a pleasant vibration against my chest as he carried me to the sitting area. “We can’t have my bride wasting away after just one night of… rigorous activity.”

The world tilted briefly before I was deposited in his lap, my back pressed against his chest, his heat seeping through the thin fabric of my robe.

I reached for a piece of fruit, trying to ignore the way his proximity made my pulse quicken. “Already finished terrorizing your court for the day, Your Grace?” I asked, aiming for lightness despite our rather intimate position.

“A duke’s duties never cease,” he replied, his hands settling on my waist with possessive intent. “However, I find myself contemplating a brief… sabbatical from striking fear into the hearts of my subjects.”

“Oh?” I tilted my head, genuinely curious now. “And what sort of mischief does my demon lord have in mind?”

“I thought perhaps we might visit Shadowmere,” he said, and I felt my heart skip a beat. “My ancestral home in the demonrealm. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to continue scandalizing the servants here?”

The piece of fruit halfway to my mouth froze in midair. Shadowmere. The very name filled me with equal parts excitement and trepidation. I would be the only human there, a delicate flower in a garden of thorns.

“For how long would you plan to corrupt me in your ancestral halls?” I managed to ask, proud that my voice remained steady.

“Four weeks, give or take,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “Plenty of time for me to thoroughly… educate you in demonic customs.” The wicked promise in his voice made me blush to my roots.

“And Lunaria?” I asked, grasping at practical matters to distract myself from the way his fingers had begun tracing sinful patterns on my thigh. “Can your duchy survive without its fearsome master for so long?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “My lieutenant is more than capable of maintaining order in my absence. Besides…” He tapped a curious device at his belt. “These magical communicators ensure I can spread terror across realms with but a word.”

I nodded, taking a sip of tea to hide my nervousness about visiting his homeland. It was then I realized my robe had fallen open, revealing far more skin than proper afternoon attire allowed. More alarming still were the duke’s wandering hands, which had found their way to my chest with devilish precision.

“Surely even demon lords require more sustenance than merely devouring their wives?” I quipped, my voice embarrassingly breathy as his fingers teased my nipples.

“I’ve already had my midday repast,” he purred, and the hunger in his voice had nothing to do with food. “Now I find myself craving something far sweeter… and significantly more squirmy.”

“You’ll have to practice patience until tonight,” I protested weakly, even as my body arched into his touch. “I’m still quite tender from your thorough… attentions.” It was a blatant lie—my healing magic had taken care of that—but something about making him wait, building the anticipation, sent a thrill through me.

His low laugh told me he saw right through my deception. “Are you now?” His fangs grazed my neck in a way that made me shiver. “How fascinating that my little bride’s healing magic seems to work on everything except convenient excuses.”

I felt my cheeks flame even as excitement pooled in my belly. “I… that is… one must maintain some mysteries in marriage…”

“Enjoy your feast, my devious little Robin,” he murmured against my skin. “You’ll need your strength for all the mysteries I plan to unravel later.”

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