Page 57 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
“Ye?” The bartender scowled, then shook his head. “’Tis a harsh world, when a lovely miss like her shows up looking for the Duke of Death.”
The Duke of Death. Ellie sucked in a breath—more in response to having the urchin’s accusation confirmed than in surprise—at the same moment Fawkes’s fingers tightened around her arm.As if she’d run.
She glanced up at him, unprepared for the mask of anger which slid across his features.
“She’s no’ looking forthatkind of poison,” Fawkes growled.
“Ah.” Auld Gus plunked the still-dirty glass down on the bar and reached for another. “Romance. Entirely different kind o’ poison, eh?”
“Quite,” muttered the man standing over her. “Although I’m surprised ye came looking for me,darling.”
With a jerky nod to the bartender, Fawkes pulled her backward, toward the table where he’d been sitting. Ellie stumbled along in his wake, averting her eyes from the amorous display going on at the table with the sailors.
“Why thefookare ye here?” Reaching the shadows, Fawkes spun her about to face him, releasing his hold on her and tucking his arms across his chest as if afraid to hold her. “Do ye haveanyidea how dangerous this part of town is,milady?”
The last part was hissed, a harsh reminder of their differences in this life.
She swallowed. “I…thought I did.”
“Christ,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and giving her his shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. “Well, I’m finished with my business—”
“Poisons?” she blurted, uncertain where she’d found the bravery. When dark green eyes cut angrily toward her, she lifted her chin. “Is that your business here tonight,Duke? Thatiswhat you are called, yes? I thought you were achemist.”
Between one heartbeat and the next he moved, darting too close, grabbing her arm once more, dragging her against his chest. His lips curled in derision, his eyes flashed with rage, bending down until his cheek brushed against her temple.
“Chemist.Poisoner. Ye didnae care my profession, did ye,milady?” he growled. “Ye just wanted my seed. Ye wanted me to fook ye like a common whore, aye? Ye didnae carewhoI was, only whose blood I shared.”
Ellie couldn’t speak.
His lips were so close to her ear, she was shivering from the sensation. But the anger in his voice brought tears to her eyes, becauseyes. Yes, he was right.
She hadn’t cared who he was.
Just that the son he could give her would be of Rufus’s blood.
“Christ,” he muttered, dropping his chin until his breath tickled her jaw. “That’s why ye’re here, eh? What was it ye said? Once wasnae enough to ensure ye’re breeding? Ye hunted me down for another round?”
For the pleasure!
But she couldn’t admit that, could she?
Ellie tried to answer but the muscles in her jaw weren’t working. Her chest ached from holding in her heart, which threatened to burst from her chest. The guilt, and anger, the desperation, near overwhelmed her.
And the absolute horror of it was that despite all of this,she still wanted him.
A swipe of her tongue across her lips and she managed to choke out, “P-Please.” It was halfway to being a sob, but perhaps he hadn’t noticed.
Fawkes inhaled softly, slowly, as if he was enjoying the smell of something. When he spoke again, his voice had gone all mild, disorientating her as she braced for harshness.
“Look, milady.”
She twitched her chin toward him, and he backed up, giving her enough room to peer over her shoulder at what he was looking at.
It was the red-head with the skinny sailor. Giggling, she was tugging the man toward a back door, as the sailor held his trousers up with his hand.
“Ye see that?” Fawkes hissed. “Ye ken what they’re doing?”
She couldn’t look away.
