Page 13 of Duke of Seduction

Morgan held his hands up in surrender, grinning maniacally. “Apologies,” he acquiesced, bowing his head. “You were saying about your list oftruesuitors for Helena, my brother?”

Ambrose glowered at him a moment longer, then huffed out a breath through his nostrils, picked up the whiskey bottle, and smirked as he refilled all four glasses.

“Drink, you arses,” Ambrose commanded, raising his glass towards the center of the table. His brothers followed suit, clinking their whiskeys together and downing them as one, before slamming their glasses onto the table in unison. Ambrose leaned forward and readily continued with his list of potential suitors as though nothing had happened.

Morgan’s grin slowly faded as Ambrose continued to list off the names. The men were all of strong title and decent appearance, and their mannerisms were not necessarily appalling, but they were all so safe and bland. They were men that would chuckle at her books and desires, not take them seriously in the way she so craved.

He thought of Helena’s desperation in the library; the pleading look in her eyes to be understood, and he found himself standing up from the table.

“Rude,” Ambrose scoffed, looking up at him. “I was talking.”

“Apologies,” Morgan muttered, unable to reach for his usual wit. “I just remembered that I had a meeting.”

“At nine in the evening?” Ezra mused, watching him with a wary eye.

“I did not say it was respectable one,” Morgan countered, finally able to muster up some sarcasm. He added a rueful grin and the others rolled their eyes.

“Harlot,” Ambrose mocked.

“Old man,” Morgan shot back, and Ambrose grumbled something about being young enough to whoop his arse in the ring.

Duncan’s eyes stayed on Morgan, his smile fake, but Morgan pretended not to notice and made his way out.

“Your Grace,” a sweet, feminine voice greeted Morgan half an hour later. “What a lovely surprise, we have missed you.”

“And I have missed all of you,” he answered devilishly, closing the door to the paramours’ waiting room that was nestled inside Ezra’s and Ambrose’s gaming hell.

“Which one of us do you desire this evening?” the matron asked, waving a fan towards the three ladies available.

“All,” Morgan answered.

He needed to get Helena’s image out of his mind; get the phantom scent of honeysuckle out of his nostrils. He drew in a deep breath and welcomed the oversaturated scent of roses and nutmeg. It stung slightly as he breathed, but he took another deep inhalation as he looked down at the three women approaching him with lustful smiles.

“On your knees,” he commanded gruffly, his gaze and features suddenly cold and hard.

They all tensed for a moment as their eyes widened in fear, then dilated with pleasure as they all silently moved to obey. He moved forward, placing his hand on the head of the blonde to his right, and stroked up a handful of her hair, giving a firm yank. She let out a sharp gasp as heat flooded her cheeks.

“Are you going to be good for me this evening or am I going to have to punish you, Luna?”

The pleading look in the woman’s eyes quickly sharpened into a wicked glee as she smiled up at him seductively. “Punish me, my lord,” she purred, reaching for his crotch.

He caught her hand roughly and shoved her back onto her knees.

“Not yet,” he taunted, shaking his head as walked to the next woman, repeating the process. Cherie answered that she wanted to be good, and Elaine, like Luna, pleaded to be punished.

A plan began to form in his head as he motioned for all of them to stand and turned with a wicked smile towards the matron.

“You too, madam,” Morgan commanded, his tone and look both stern as he eyed her up. Her cheeks glowed with desire but she shook her head.

“But, Your Grace, the other clients…” the matron began.

“… are not going to offer you what I can” he cut her off, his tone like steel. “Now tell me, do you want to be praised or punished?

The matron shut her mouth, her cheeks growing red at such a blunt question.

“Both, Your Grace,” she whispered as she waved to a nearby door.

Wicked pleasure bloomed in him as his thoughts raced to plan the next steps of their tryst.

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