Page 10 of Good Duke Gone Hard

She eyed him and repeated her earlier question, “Does it matter?”

“I’m having deja vu. Can amnesics have that?”

She stifled a smile. He always knew how to provoke her, into a grin or into a fury. That’s why he had been so dangerous. And divine. She never had to hold back laughing with him, nevermind concern herself with showing her teeth in a smile. She never had to hold back her barbs either. She never had to hold back herself from him. He had accepted it all. Encouraged it all.

But now, she would not give him the satisfaction of her joy. He didn’t deserve it. “I’m sure they can. Even you have, what, three years of memories now?”

Ignoring her probe, he circled back to his previous topic. “I shouldn’t be saying this, or maybe you would have already guessed it, but Lyle always comes out on top. I rather think he’s staying on as a houseguest just to boost his ego.”

The corner of her mouth creeped to the side, but she ordered it back. In an effort to bore him to death, she posed as if considering her next move. As she did so, he leaned back and pushed his hessian boots forward, almost touching her slippers under the table.

She pulled her feet back, she couldn’t be close to this man in any way. The last time that had happened, they had enjoyed a few glorious weeks together. Then one night it all ended and she thought she’d never see him again.

Their last night… It was one in the morning, and Margaret heard a familiar pattern tapped out on her door. Clad in her chemise, she slowly opened the door, hiding behind it.

Jonathan whooshed in on a breeze, closing the door behind them, and caging her in between his arms and the door. Pressed against the door, with him sentinel, she was safe. The gooseflesh raised on her skin, signaling the pleasure to come, and she knew he would do nothing to harm her.

“I couldn’t wait,” he whispered in her ear.

She threw her arms around his neck. “Wait until when?”

“Until any time past now. I had to see you.”

Her heart rocked against her chest and she leaned into him, wishing there were no layers between them. Even one light chemise was one too many.

“See?” As his lips trailed down her neck, she couldn’t make out any more words than the echo of his.

“See. Kiss. Lick.” He slowly grazed his teeth down the column of her neck and nipped down slowly at the bottom.

A moan escaped her as she pressed herself into him. His long, thick arousal pressed tight against her belly.

“Mmm…Johnny.”

“Maggie.” He poured his liquid honey voice all over her body. She could still hear him saying her name. She could still hear him, actually, right now, in the drawing room.

“Margaret?” Jonathan’s voice pulled her back to the present, and she could feel herself blushing. That’s when she noticed her slippered feet had slid back to where she had earlier retreated from. They were now cradled by his boots. Hence the warmth pooling between her thighs.Had he noticed? How could he not?

Mortified, but with no other course of action, she reacted by pulling her feet away and hopping out of her seat, “I had just played out the next eight moves in my head when you had to go and interrupt me.” She waved her arms accusingly at him. “Can you comprehend that I’m silently strategizing?” In her rant, she had lost count of her physical movements and now thought she only had one move left. She turned her back on him.

Facing the window, she regained her composure. Then she turned and sat down, smoothed her dress, and resumed her concentration on the chess board as if nothing had happened.

JONATHAN TOOK INVENTORY OF the woman in front of him. As sure as he knew he was sane, despite a somewhat debilitating mental condition, he knew the woman in front of him was not. Most assuredly she was bat crazy.

First, she slipped her feet between his, in some attempted flirtation. Then she turned around acting as if he were the one who violated some unspoken rule regarding talking during a chess game. Finally, she pretended as if nothing happened. Yes, she was definitely crazy.

But, he had also seen how all of this was a cover up for how she had been affected by the touch of their shoes. Maybe extracting his secrets was going to be easier than he thought. Maybe channeling the rake was his next move.

He sat back in the cushioned armchair and ran his hands slowly over the polished wood. He turned to look out the large window overlooking the perfectly manicured gardens behind the house. His eyes observed the forest green drapes secured with gold cords, but his mind recalled Margaret’s reflection in the window from moments ago. He saw her deep blush and the way she collected herself. Yes, he knew without a doubt that he could have an effect on her. To what extent? With what success? He wasn’t certain. But he could feel a familiar sensation within his mind, as if returning some essence of him without the memories.

The rest of the game was played in relative quietude with only the click and sliding of pieces. Both players silently determining their next moves on and off the board.

Until,

“Check.”

“Forty-eight.”

“Check.”

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