Page 34 of Duke It Out
“I’m not suggesting you have body odour. The essential oils in the bath products will soothe the itching a little.” His face softens slightly. “They’re absolute buggers at this time of year. They’ll eat you alive.”
He steps past me to hook the dogs’ leads on the coat rack, close enough that his arm brushes against mine. I feel it all the way to my spine, like an aftershock.
I twitch my nose, which is inexplicably itchy too. “You’re not joking.” I start to climb the stairs, but my legs seem to be working on low-speed mode because the animal lust part of me doesn’t want to leave. “Right, well, I’ll go and do that.”
His eyes meet mine and darken for a moment. For a second, we’re not writer and duke, ghost and gatekeeper. We’re just two people, stuck in the same haunted house, trying not to touch.
I pull in a breath and grab hold of the banister with a breezy smile.
“Sleep well, Rory.”
14
RORY
Fucking minx.I swear to God she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her curvy backside swings as she climbs the stairs and makes her way along the passage to her room, not once looking back. I haul in a breath and whistle the dogs, letting them into the kitchen for the night.
I take the stairs two at a time and stride along the corridor, slowing my pace as I walk past Edie’s door. For a man who works so hard to stay in control, I’m doing a fucking bad job of it right now. I know what’s on the other side of that piece of oak and the thought of Edie stripping off and soaping those delicious curves has my dick aching. I feel like a fucking teenager and there’s nothing else for it. I turn on the shower, letting the room fill with steam as I strip off.
I shouldn’t be thinking about that mouth, or the way she moved under me. Or that flash of fire in her dark eyes when she pushed back in the study. But I do, again and again.
I fist my cock and close my eyes, giving in to every mental image I’ve tried to suppress since Edie Jones walked back into my life.
“Fuck.” I come hard and my head drops. I let the water wash away my regrets.
I’m drying off when I hear the phone buzzing in the bedroom.
“Rory, sorry.”
Theo never apologises. “What’s up?”
“Got a bit of a hiccup.”
I put him on speaker and listen as I’m getting dressed, already mentally making plans.
“It’s your father.”
I groan. “Of course it is. What the hell has he done now?”
Sometimes I wonder if my legacy is just a lifetime of putting out the fires that old bastard lit.
“He made a comment during his last visit – something, well you can imagine. He didn’t exactly have his finger on the pulse, political correctness wise.”
“That’s an understatement.”
I think back to all the times we had to drag him away from local events when he’d had one too many drams and started holding forth about the state of the world, or got charmed by reporters who’d turn up on the off chance he might give a colourful quote on the subject of the Royal Family or the state of the nation. He’d been booed off Question Time for suggesting the return of National Service for young men and domestic service for young ladies.
“He said something off the record which it turns out wasn’t, and this young journalist dug it up. He’s on it like a bee on a honeypot thinking he’s got a point to prove. There’s a whole conversation about whether the foundation should even be involved in the project. He’s making noises about activists and legacy wealth and?—”
“It’s fine,” I say. “You don’t need to paint the whole picture. I get it. What’s Phoebe saying?”
I can just picture our no-nonsense PR director threatening to flatten the offending journalist with a crane. I have no idea how a brusque no-nonsense Yorkshire lass manages to do the job she does but she’s the queen of faking it. I guess you can’t kid a kidder, and if she can convince you she gives a shit, she could pretty much sell coals to Newcastle.
“Phoebs wants you over here pronto to smooth things over. Right now, it’s something and nothing, but damage control’s the order of the day. Like I said the other day, you’re the closest thing to royalty they’ll see unless Harry and Meghan take a day trip from Montecito.”
“I said I was planning on working from the house for the foreseeable.”
“And the last thing our new push for the foundation needs is a scandal. We’ve spent long enough mopping up the sins of the father, so to speak.”
