How To Seduce A Duke

Chapter 10

Courage. That was all she needed to regain control of her future with Quinn.

Sadly, though, as Rogan led her into the dining room toward the refreshment table, Mary knew she sorely lacked that important commodity.

“Odd.” Rogan was scanning the bustling room in earnest. “I do not see Quinn in here, either. I was sure he’d be fetching Lady Tidwell a libation.”

A glass of wine. Yes.

What did it matter if her constitution had little tolerance for spirits of any sort? The smallest amount had the power to make her all muddleheaded. But tonight, it might be just the thing to boost her bravery.

While Rogan was distracted with the task of peering through the crowd to locate his brother, Mary took the opportunity to extricate her arm from the duke’s steel-banded grasp.

“The night is mild and the house is very close this evening,” she told him. “Do you think it likely that he and Lady Tidwell stepped outside for air…as you, yourself, had earlier suggested we do?”

“Yes, perhaps so,” he murmured distractedly as his gaze flitted this way and that about the room.

“Shall we each collect a glass of wine and venture into the courtyard to join them?” She raised her brows, as if her suggestion had been innocently conceived.

Rogan turned and pinned her with his gaze. “Wine? Oh, quite right.” He started for a footman, who was circling the dining room balancing a silver tray filled with goblets of claret, but he stopped suddenly and turned around to look back at her.

“Your Grace? Would you like me to assist you?” She served him a gentle smile.

“Y-you will wait here for me, will you not?” The expression on his face seemed altogether too serious for the words he had spoken. “I shall return in but a moment.”

Mary tilted her head to the side and considered his peculiar reaction.

Did he really think that the moment he had turned his back to her she would dart off into the courtyard to woo Quinn? “I’ll not step from this spot, Your Grace. I promise you. I shall not leave.”

“Very good, Miss Royle.” His expression brightened.

Mary watched as he hurried through the throng to reach the footman, who was now on the farthest edge of the dining room.

What an odd gentleman.

Just then, her sisters appeared beside her.

“Such a dull gathering, is it not?” Elizabeth raised her own goblet of wine to her lips and took a sip. “When Lady Upperton mentioned quitting the musicale, I encouraged her to do so as soon as possible.”

“So, are you ready?” Anne quizzed. “Lady Upperton’s carriage already waits at the door.”

“Leave, now?” Mary glaced at Rogan just as he lifted two goblets from the footman’s silver tray. “Oh, no. I am not yet prepared to leave. I have yet to speak with Lord Wetherly.”

Anne leveled an annoyed look at her. “Well, do go and bid him farewell now, please-if you must.”

“Do, Mary.” Elizabeth raised her wineglass and gestured about the room. “There are no bachelors here. Look about. Only dreary married ladies and gentlemen.”

“See here, I can walk back to Berkeley Square. The night air is soft and warm this evening.” Mary flicked her fingers at each of her sisters. “So go ahead without me. Quit the musicale. I shall return home soon enough.”

“But we can’t leave without you,” Elizabeth said.

“Nonsense.” Mary reached out and snatched Elizabeth’s goblet from her, nearly spilling the half glass of wine that remained. “Go on.”

“You can’t walk all the way home at night-especially not in that gown. You, and it, will be ruined if you attempt it.” Anne was completely serious, for she folded her arms over her chest the way she always did when Mary proposed some indecorous course of action.

Mary looked up and her stomach muscles tensed. Rogan had paused momentarily to speak with their host, but he was only a few strides away now. He would return in an instant. “Do not fret, Anne. I shall ask Lord Wetherly, Lady Tidwell, and the duke to see me home. Off with you now. I shall be along soon enough.”

“Very well, then,” Anne amended. “I suppose your plan is reasonable enough.”

“Finally. Let us away.” Elizabeth took Anne’s hand and, without a look back, drew her toward the passage. Good eve, Mary.”

“Good eve,” she called back softly.

My plan is reasonable enough.

She grinned to herself. If they only knew.

Mary looked down at Elizabeth’s wineglass in her hand. Courage, she told herself, as she swallowed the claret in a single draught and slipped the empty goblet onto the tray of an unsuspecting footman passing by.

She knew, or thought she knew, exactly how to seduce the duke.

All she needed to do was pretend to be receptive to his roguish passes. Act as if she had suddenly set her cap at him.

Yes, all she needed was a little courage, and she’d have Rogan running for his rakish life.

She’d changed.

Rogan realized it the very moment he returned to Miss Royle’s side, having balanced two goblets of wine through a revolving gauntlet of the Harringtons’ horde of guests.

“Here you are, Miss Royle.” When he pressed the glass of wine into her hand, she lifted it quickly to her mouth. Her hand quivered fiercely.

She raised her gaze to his and thanked him for the wine. Though she smiled pleasantly and her countenance was the portrait of serenity, she seemed quite unable to stop her fingers from trembling.

For some reason, she was conspicuously anxious and tense, far more so than before.

He didn’t enjoy seeing her this way. Bloody hell, it was his fault. Her shaking made him almost regret toying with her earlier. Almost.

It was not as if he’d had a choice in the matter. He had a duty to protect his brother. His seductive words had been necessary to distract her and keep her thoughts solidly with him, rather than with his deuced marriage-minded brother.

Clearly, she was aware of his study of her. Had there been a japanned folding screen anywhere nearby, he was certain she would have ducked behind it for refuge.

Positioning her lace fan between them like a tempered shield, she flicked it hard, and it snapped open with a click.

Damn it all. Am I that menacing?

Evidently to her I am.

Her amber eyes were wide and round, and she nervously raised the wine-filled goblet to her mouth again and again, until the claret was drained completely.

Rogan raised his eyebrows. “You seemed to have enjoyed your wine. Shall I fetch you another, Miss Royle?”

“No, this one will do.” But then she held her trembling hand before her and looked into the hollow of her glass. “Oh.” She angled her eyes back up at him, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

She inhaled deeply, and when she released her pent breath, a calmness of sorts descended over her. “On second thought, yes, I should like another. But do allow me to walk with you this time, if you will.”

Her lids looked heavy, and her eyes glinted in the candlelight. “The footman serving the wine is just there,” she said as she tipped her head, gesturing toward the doors that led to the rear of the center hall. “We can step into the courtyard afterward and breathe some cool air. What say you”-she lowered her voice and leaned close-“Rogan?”

And there it was again. Another change in her demeanor.

One moment she was quaking like a frightened child, the next plying her feminine wiles like the most practiced of French courtesans.

This made no sense to Rogan.

What is the chit’s game?

Ah, well, the hour was not so very late. He had time to indulge her long enough to determine what she was truly about.

She smiled and, without a prompt, reached out and looped her arm tightly around his. “Shall we?”

She was shaking again. Now that was disheartening.

Deuce it. She was so damned transparent in her effort to appear brave and resistant to his taunts.

But he knew better. He had played this game many times before and with far more skilled opponents.

“Mayhap we shall stumble across your brother.” Her lips pulled back, revealing the falsest of smiles.

“Do you think so, Miss Royle?”

Ah, now he understood.

True, it was stifling inside the house, but he knew it was not the evening breeze she truly sought.

It was his cursed brother.

She feared, and perhaps rightly so, that Quinn was developing affections for another. And Mary was not about to step back and let Lady Tidwell claim her golden prize.

“It’s only l-logical, Your Grace.” She shook her head lazily. “Do you not agree?” The wine seemed to be affecting her very quickly, thickening her tongue and weighting her eyelids.

“I am not so convinced, but if you would like to be sure, Miss Royle, let us go and see. If nothing else, we shall enjoy the air. Right this way, if you please.”

As Rogan led her toward a tray of filled goblets, the heaving crowd pressed them tightly together, and she leaned against him for support. He felt the softness of her breast against his side.

At once he felt a tightening in his groin.

Bloody hell. Not now.

He could not feel such things for her. Anyone but her.

The cool air would help. Had to.

Because Rogan knew that Quinn and Lady Tidwell would not be found in the courtyard.

Nor the garden.

For Sir Joseph had told him only moments before that Lady Tidwell was not feeling herself and had been escorted home by his brother half an hour earlier.

And in all likelihood, he and Miss Royle would be in the courtyard…alone.

The crescent moon seemed unnaturally bright on this particular evening, bringing to Mary’s mind the night when Rogan had slipped between her and Quinn and kissed her, sending her body all to jelly.

Tonight, however, such a rakish act was not a concern. She and the Black Duke would not be alone. Another female, even if Lady Tidwell was that woman, would be present, and Rogan would not dare to repeat such an offense in her presence.

Nor would the blackheart chance piercing his brother’s heart again, not when it had wounded him so keenly before.

No, she would be completely protected from any more roguish exploits this evening, for even a rake must hold some boundaries sacred.

Mary surveyed the moonlit courtyard. “I do not see Lord Wetherly and Lady Tidwell. Do you, Your Grace-” She turned her head to look up at him, and at once her head began to spin. “I mean, Rogan?”

My, she was beginning to feel so…very sleepy.

Her legs were a little wobbly too, now that she thought about it, and she felt unsteady on her feet. She braced herself against Rogan for support and focused her blurry gaze upon him.

Goodness, but he looked rather dashing.

Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she started thinking about their kiss. It had certainly been good, though admittedly, she hadn’t much experience kissing. She wondered if she’d enjoy it if he kissed her right then.

Rogan looked down at her with a most curious expression on his face. “My brother and Lady Tidwell? Oh, they are not here. I did not truly expect them to be.”

“You never mentioned that to me.”

Or did he? Bah, she couldn’t remember.

Mary felt her body swoon fully against Rogan, and his hands suddenly upon her. “I might not have come outside had I known your brother and Lady Tidwell would not be taking the air as well.”

“Well, they aren’t here, so we may step back inside if you wish.” He had that cocky glint in his eyes again. “I had heard that my brother and Lady Tidwell left the musicale early. But I thought a breath of cool air would be most invigorating.”

Mary’s head was spinning when she tilted her face back to look up at Rogan. “So we are all alone.”

“It would seem so, Miss Royle.”

“Mary. I granted you leave to call me Mary.” She squinted her eyes up at him. Lord, her head felt so heavy. “Why don’t you call me Mary? Don’t you like me?”

I like you, Rogan.

No, no. I hate you. That’s right.

Rogan tried to take a step backward. But Mary held firm, lest she lose her own balance. When she pressed up against him for support again, she felt a hardness between them.

Good heavens.

It seemed he did like her. Quite a bit actually.

A grin seized Mary’s lips just then. She was feeling quite courageous just now. Maybe a mite offkilter, but infinitely brave.

And oh-so-ready to shift the balance of power between them. First, she would caress his cheek with her bare hand.

She flashed him what she hoped was a seductive glance as she peeled one glove down to her wrist. But then, she couldn’t pull her fingers out, so she left it bunched where it was.

Did she just hear him chuckle? She looked up at him. “Rogan.” Though she did not intend it, her voice was husky and low. “Have you thought about it?”

His eyes quizzed her. “Have I thought about what, Mary?”

She stood on her toes and slanted her mouth toward his. “Kissing me…again.”

Her fingers slipped around Rogan’s neck and pulled his head down to her. She closed her eyelids and opened her mouth slightly for him.

“Mary,” he whispered, “I vow you are not used to the effects of the wine. You should stop now, before you do something you will regret in the morning.”

“Haven’t you thought about it? You must have.” She lifted her lids and peered up at him earnestly. “Rogan, I have tried to forget the feeling of your body pressed against mine. Fought to wipe away the memory of your mouth, so hot and wet, moving over my lips. But God save me, I can’t do it.”

“Mary, please, do not say another word.” He caught her wrist and made to pull her hand from the back of his neck.

She doesn’t know what she is doing. Make her stop.

Stop now.

“No, please don’t. You don’t understand. I took the wine this night for courage. So I would not retreat.” She placed her hand softly upon his cheek for a moment, then slipped her fingers to his temple and through his hair.

Rogan closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose.

It had been so long since he’d been touched so tenderly. And though he wanted nothing more than for her to continue, he knew he could not allow it.

He caught her hand and removed it from his hair. “Mary, stop-”

Instead she laid her finger vertically across his lips. “Shh. Listen to me. What I felt when you kissed me was like…nothing I have ever known.”

Rogan grabbed her wrist and pulled her finger from his mouth. “You are an innocent.”

“Not so innocent as you might believe.”

“Somehow, my dear, I doubt that.”

“Then you would be wrong, sir.” She lowered her eyes to the pavers for an instant, before meeting his gaze again with an impish grin on her lips. “Believe me, I know how a kiss feels. Yours was not my first.”

“Wasn’t it?”

She shook her head and colored most becomingly. “But I do not lie when I admit that when you touched your mouth to mine, every part of me felt so…so alive-like never before.”

Rogan let his gaze flutter over her flushed cheeks and delve deep into her eyes. “What do you want of me, Mary?”

“I want you to kiss me again-now. I have to know.”

“What?”

“If it’s you, Rogan, who awakened me-or if it was my belief that I was in Quinn’s arms.”

Quinn’s arms? Damn you.

He caught her waist with both hands and held her at arm’s length. “What game is this, Miss Royle?”

Her eyes suddenly took on a sheen in the moonlight. “’Tis no game, Rogan. I want to know. I need to know. Please.”

Rogan’s breath came faster. Walk away. Just turn and walk away from her. Now.

Why, despite his attempts to separate this woman from Quinn, by the end of summer she could become Viscountess Wetherly-his brother’s wife.

“Please, Rogan,” she said breathily. “One kiss.”

Damn it. He couldn’t seem to help himself.

His grip tightened around her and he pulled her to him, closer and closer still, until they stood only a breath apart.

“Kiss me,” she whispered again.

And in the cool light of the moon, Rogan swept her into his arms and leaned toward her.

He rested his hand in the small of her back, making her arch against him as he moved his lips along the tender skin of her throat.

Mary moaned and softened against him.

His mouth moved upward along her neck, pausing for just a moment to murmur in her ear. “Is it the same?”

“I do not know yet.” Mary settled her hand on his chest, the tips of her fingers digging into his muscles. “Kiss me, Rogan. Please.”

Gently, he brushed his fingers along her jaw, then firmly took her chin and turned her face upward to his, before catching her mouth with his own.

Excitement surged through his body, and he knew, for certain, what she had meant about being awakened.

She angled her lips against his, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss, giving herself to him, and desire like he’d never felt exploded through his veins.

He could smell the scent of roses on her skin, taste the wine on her tongue, feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his own.

He was drowning in her and never wanted to surface.

The courtyard dissolved into nothingness around them. Thought evaporated.

All he knew was Mary, and his need for her.

Rogan pulled her hard to him, felt her full breasts crush against him. She wrapped her hands tightly around his neck and clung to him.

He pulled back for the briefest moment and gazed into her eyes. “Is it the same, Mary?”

She peered sleepily into his eyes, and her lips curved upward. “Yesss.”

He drove his tongue deep into her mouth, wanting, needing urgently to possess her. As he kissed her so deeply, one hand slid over her hip and ground her against the hardness between his legs.

She broke their kiss then and peered up at him queerly.

“Mary, I don’t know what made me-”

“What did you say?” Her eyes seemed to roll back, and her lids closed.

“Mary? Oh, God.” He shook her, and he saw she tried to open her eyes. “Can you hear me? Are you well?”

But then her eyes closed again and she crumpled against him. Rogan stared down at the woman, limp in his arms.

“Mary!”