Page 84 of Rules for Heiresses
“Since forever, it seems.”
She frowned. “Then why would you try to push me away?”
“If your childhood nemesis stole your heart without your permission, wouldn’t you do everything to get it back?”
“Maybe. Very well, fine. I can see your point.”
Her duke gathered her in his arms, holding her close, and she reveled in the feel of his strong, lean, beautiful body encasing hers. She felt his lips against her hair and her eyes fluttered closed. Standing in his embrace was heaven. Courtland took her hand and placed it over the left side of his chest. “The truth is this heart has always been yours. What I didn’t realize was that one cannot steal something that has already been gifted.”
Ravenna stared up at him, her own heart filling to bursting. “So we’re doing this, then? No more games. No more running?”
Her gorgeous husband laughed, the rich sound sinking into her nerve endings like honey, as his cheeky palm slid down to cup her bottom with a wicked squeeze. “Well, I’m not going to saynoto games. They can be fun.”
“You say this as if I know these things. I require detailed instruction, Your Grace.” She tugged his head down to hers with a smile. “Now shut up and ravage me, Duke, before I expire from all this sexual frustration.”
“Say that again,” he rasped, skimming his mouth over hers in a move that had her panting and her nipples standing at attention. She knew exactly what he wanted her to say.
“Sexual.”
His pupils dilated, his voice like gravel. “Again for good measure.”
“Sex—”
The Duke of Ashvale swallowed the rest of the word and took her lips in the most erotic kiss known to man. Or woman. Or anyone with a working pulse.
And all she could do was succumb.
* * *
Courtland had never felt freer in his life, considering that he was incarcerated in his own home. Who would have thought that confessing a decade and a half of feelings would be so liberating? He was terrified and a part of him still wanted to protect Ravenna from the gossip storm he knew would come, but she was a grown woman with her own mind. She would choose the battles she wanted to fight, and she’d chosen to stand up withhim.
He still couldn’t quite believe it. Any sensible person would have run.
She had not.
He glanced over to where his wife sat reading a book curled up in an armchair near the fireplace. A tendril of auburn hair curled onto her cheek, her full mouth pursed in deep thought. She was beautiful. Over the past few nights, he’d made love to her until dawn broke over the skies, until they were nothing but limp sated bodies and whispered nothings.
Last night had been no exception. Nor this morning’s invigorating ride that his lusty duchess initiated. His cock perked up at the image of her above him—breasts on display, lips parted in pleasure, all that riotous red hair spilling like a silken cloud atop her shoulders—but Courtland sent it a stern message to behave. It would not do to ravage his wife in the library.
“Your Grace,” Morgan announced at the door. “Lady Bronwyn and Lord Stinson to see you.”
His sister and brother. Why were they here? Ravenna met his eyes with a quizzical look. While the scandal caused by the account in the papers had not died down, Embry’s lawyers had been successful in shutting down the scandal sheets that had published the sordid tale. The battle for the dukedom was still ongoing, and Bingham showed no signs of awakening. Doctors had said that some men remained in such a state for months. On top of that, Sommers had not been found, though Waterstone was confident he hadn’t left London.
“Show them in,” Courtland said.
Bronwyn entered first, to Courtland’s surprise, and the determined look on her face as well as the pinched look on his brother’s gave him pause. She held a sheaf of parchment in her hands. “Your Graces,” his sister said with a curtsy. “Apologies for the intrusion. My brother has something he wishes to say to you.”
A brooding Stinson glowered at her before stepping forward. “It was untrue. What was printed in the paper.”
“And?” Bronwyn prodded.
“And I apologize,” he gritted out.
Ravenna gaped at him, but it wasn’t unlike the thread of surprise coursing through Courtland’s own veins. What did his younger sister have on Stinson that would make him confess such a thing orapologize? The answer was revealed when Bronwyn’s smug blue gaze met his. “Stinson has a mistress who’s fleecing him by threatening to expose their child to Mama.”
Stinson cursed under his breath. “Damn it, you promised you wouldn’t say a word!”
“Yes, to Mama,” she replied calmly. “This is our brother. We can trust him.”
