Page 32 of My Dark Duke

“How thrilling.”

“They are a sight to behold,” he admitted. “Though their beauty will pale in comparison to yours.”

Lillian resisted rolling her eyes at his flirtation; Thorncastle could be very charming when he wished to be. He offered her his arm, which she took, and they made for the hallway.

“Your carriage is outside, Your Grace,” Michael said, rushing to open the door.

“Thank you,” Sebastian’s tone was clipped, “I left a copy of today’s newspaper in the parlour room, Michael. It has some details of the army’s most recent movements, which you might find interesting.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Michael answered.

“Graystone is not expected to live much longer,” the duke added, his voice low. “Lewisham has been sent for; I’m told we can expect him back on English soil before the month’s end.”

Michael did not reply, he merely nodded, his jaw clenched.

Lillian did not understand a word of the exchange, but she could tell whatever news Thorncastle had delivered was upsetting.

Thorncastle offered him a brief nod, before placing his hand over Lillian’s, and leading her down to the waiting carriage.

Higgins, the footman who had called for her at Mrs Harrod’s, sprang to attention to open the door, when he sighted them. Thorncastle assisted Mary inside with excessive care and hands which lingered far longer than necessary around her waist.

Inside, the interior was plush; thick brocade curtains, deep velvet cushions, and even a warming stone for her feet.

“There is a blanket for your legs,” Thorncastle said, as he slipped into the seat beside her. From underneath the bench, he extracted a wool blanket, which he tucked around her legs with great solicitousness.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, charmed by his care for her comfort.

“We can’t have you catching a cold,” he answered, rather formally, as though she was his aged-aunt and not his mistress.

She frowned into the darkness of the carriage. The duality of the duke’s character grated on her nerves. One moment he acted as though he wished to ravish her completely, while the next moment he acted as though he would go to battle to protect her virginity.

As the carriage made its way across town, the duke obliged her with some idle chatter. He was well versed on current affairs, the progression of Napoleon’s troops, and the goings-on in Parliament.

Lillian listened politely, though her mind was elsewhere. She could not suffer through another evening of uncertainty. If Thorncastle did not wish to bed her and keep her as a mistress, then she would need to know so she could plan her future elsewhere.

“Ahem,” the duke cleared his throat pointedly, interrupting Lillian’s musings. Her inattentiveness had been noted.

“Oh,” she blinked stupidly, “I’m afraid my mind drifted for a moment, what was the question?”

“I was just pointing out we are nearly there,” he answered, not at all put-out to find he had been ignored but, rather, concerned. “Are you certain you feel well? You have been distracted for most of the evening.”

Lillian held her breath and willed her impertinent mouth to stay quiet. Alas, the anger which had been bubbling inside her all day, could not be stopped from boiling over.

“Since you ask,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest, “I am not well, Your Grace. In fact, I am livid at having been treated so shoddily.”

“Treated shoddily by whom?” Thorncastle answered, though the penny soon dropped. “By me? I don’t see how, my dear. I have acted most gallantly towards you - despite my desire for the opposite.”

“So you do desire me?” Lillian replied, her tone dry. “You did not give that impression last night; you appeared to me to have grown tired of me already. You can’t fault me for wondering, Your Grace, if you are a man who prefers the chase to the acquisition. In fact-”

Lillian’s next barb was not to be voiced, for the duke had decided to take charge of the impertinent mouth she had failed to control.

His lips crashed down upon hers, strong and possessive, silencing her completely. As he kissed her, Thorncastle pulled her into his lap, his hands clutching her bottom. He plundered her mouth, sparing no mercy for her innocent sensibilities. His hands slipped from her bottom to her hips and he urged her into a straddling position.

She gasped, as she felt his male hardness pressed against her through the material of his breeches.

“Don’t accuse me of having grown bored of you,” he rasped, pulling his head away. “So help me God, I would take you now if I wasn’t afraid of hurting you.”

The gnawing ache between Lillian’s legs urged her to tell him to do it - to take her there and then. She brought one of his hands up to her chest, to rub against the bodice of her dress. How she wished they were both free of the clothing which was keeping their flesh from meeting.

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