Page 18 of Duke of Treason (Rogues from War 3)

If perdition could be found on this Earth, this was it. Utter, complete. Irreversible. There was no other woman in humanity that ever made him this spellbound. He savoured her as if he had found paradise. And he had, because, now, she cradled him between her soft thighs, her hand on his hair, pressing him to her. What a good idea to kiss a woman in breeches. His hazy thought produced before he moved to the twin breast.

Annabel was losing contact with reality. Fast. Dangerously. She pressed her whole body to him with a hungry whimper, so desperate to give herself what she wanted, what he wanted, any delay becoming sheer torture.

His sensuous lips came to plunder her mouth yet again, mindless, and he did it, thirsty, his hand going ever down her irresistible curves.

A flash of reality intruded in her foggy, steamy head. What was she doing? To surrender to a man who despised her. A man who proved to be the highest criminal in the country. She could not sink t

his low. It would be a regretful feebleness she would not be able to live with, though she knew it would be luscious, decadent while he touched her, took her. That unyielding erection so missed for so many reasons. A man in full possession of his health, capable of satisfying a woman until she could not remember her own name. Until she had lost all dignity. Until she failed to look in the mirror ever again.

No!

As his fingers reached her belt, she grabbed his muscled shoulders and yanked him up, her gaze wide open, an unfathomable expression in them. He released her at once.

“This cannot be!” A hoarse mutter. Standing up, she tied her shirt, put on her slippers and vanished from the armoury as if there was an infantry after her.

Stare fixed at the empty absence she had left, still lying there, his desire roaring like a furnace, Romulus had to tackle her unpredictable response. As he raked his hand through his dark brown hair, he stood. He thought of punching himself for this weakness, but regret passed far from him. He would have not missed it for the life of him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Flushed, sweat and annoyed, Annabel took refuge in the library, away from prying eyes. She braced her hands on the reading desk and exhaled. The morning had been the most delightful she could remember. And that was the problem.

She had revelled in sharing her skills with Romulus, measuring forces with him, having the chance to touch his muscled body, even if charging at it.

And then, darn it! She took leave of her senses. The moment he pinned her on the boards she did not stand a chance. The delicious weight of his on her, his dishevelled hair, his male scent, the kisses, and ardent caresses. His steamy words echoed in her head, those which she had not found her voice to answer, so enthralled had she been. She touched her lips, still dazed with the pleasure that coursed through her. She must never have tasted it. It was bound to be addictive. But not with him! Gracious me, not him!

Several deep breaths afterwards, she calmed down just enough to a semblance of clear thoughts. She had that letter to see to today. She had to wait for the castle to get busy, so that nobody would think strange a footman roaming it free. She straightened her back as she steered up to her room. A sense of something odd, the hairs on her nape standing. She turned around and spotted someone in the shadows. Oh, fantastic! That man put a lackey to watch her even if he would kiss her until she could breathe no more. She should take this in consideration in her next moves.

Annabel summoned her footman and gave him strict instructions. She sent him on his way and left her chambers to wander the castle and lead the watchdog on, so he would not sniff on Peter.

She wandered the gardens and climbed down to the dungeons, which she found fascinating the day before, when she came across them, her shadow faithful after her. That lackey did not look very smart if she could detect him so easily.

Now that her correspondence with London had been sorted out, she could turn to more pressing matters. It was imperative she left. Since His Serene Grace denied her the right to, she would have to snatch it. For that, she would have to plan carefully.

First, she would have to send Benson to pay and pick the carriage and leave it in the inn. They would have to mount the horses that were the team for the carriage and ride there. Those horses were not good for riding, for they had been trained mostly for harnessing, but she would have to make do. She needed time for all this and a good head start, since a carriage did not have the same speed as a rider, in case the Duke came chasing. Which she thought he would. She would use the next days to prepare and put her plan into action.

* * *

His aunt travelled in style, Romulus would give her that, even if beloved Charlotte did not prove to be good at communication. She came without sending him word. Entitled to that, no doubt, being her father’s sister and the widow of a Marquis.

The time was not right, with all the goings on here. He would not complain, surely. She helped bring him up after his own mother, Amandine, passed away when he had turned fourteen. He had strong gratefulness for her for having taken care of him and his brothers.

Aunt Charlotte came down from her carriage and six dressed in an extravagant dress of the yellowest of shades and a bonnet as large as a parasol. The woman herself was petite, contrary to her brother, the old Duke. Snowy hair coiffed under the bonnet and sharp blue eyes, she held the hauteur and beauty of the family.

“My dear boy.” She greeted him in cheerful disposition, touching his cheek.

“Aunt Charlotte.” He said in his usual, grave tone. “It is a pleasure to see you.” He did not smile, he seldom did, but his aunt never minded that.

“London is becoming boring these days, so I decided to come and visit you instead.”

“Good you did.”

“I cannot stay long, though. I am visiting my friend Lady Carlyle in Plymouth.”

“Indeed.” He offered her his arm, and they entered the great hall.

“I have not seen Lydia in a long while. It will do me good to visit with her.” She took out her hat.

At that exact moment, Annabel emerged from the stairs leading to the dungeons dressed in a simple and very feminine violet walking dress.

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