Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Chloe knew she ought not to accept his invitation. He was a rake. This is what rakes do… they seduce.

He’d been mean. He’d been distrustful. He looked absolutely tantalizing in the moonlight.

Could she tame him? Go right up to the line … That had been Mildred’s advice.

Some part of her wanted nothing more than to curl up in his lap and allow him to touch her like he’d done the other night.

It had been deliciously wicked. Another skill of a rake, she would imagine.

She shook her head. “No.” Her thighs squeezed together as she tried to calm the pulsing need that radiated out from her core. Despite that, some part of her sensed that she needed to make Ryker work for her affection.

Ryker leaned forward again, slowly reaching down until he grasped her ankle. “You won’t accept my apology?”

“For what? Telling me you don’t want me, trying to bed another woman, or thinking I’m affiliated with some man who doesn’t even have a full name?”

He wrapped his fingers about her ankle as though taking its measurement. “I love your ankles, did you know that? You have a great many attributes and yet…” He lightly massaged the stockinged skin, making her gasp. “I can see I have a great deal to apologize for.” And then he slid his hand up her calf.

She should say no. But lord help her, she didn’t want to. His touch, the pressure of his fingers on her skin, had her aching with need as his hand climbed higher. And much to her dismay, when he reached her knee, her legs parted for him, her body so eager for the pleasure she knew he’d bring.

Her skirts bunched in her lap, the layers of petticoats blocked her view as his other hand rested on her right knee, both hands tracing up her thighs. She couldn’t see but she could feel, and her legs spread wider as her head fell back, her whole body opening to him.

Her eyes fluttered closed when he reached the V of her thighs, one of his thumbs brushing through her curls. He pushed her thighs even wider apart.

In this, she trusted him completely. She settled herself deeper on the seat prepared for the next swipe of his fingers, anticipating the light brush.

But it didn’t come. She opened her eyes just in time to see him drop to one knee on the floor of the carriage. Her brow furrowed as she looked down at him while he pushed even more of her skirts out of the way. “Ryker?”

He looked up at her, his smile absolute sin before he disappeared under her skirts, his shoulders pressing her legs even further apart.

She only had a moment to comprehend his intentions when the flat of his tongue swiped against her most intimate parts, sending sparks of pleasure through her entire body. She curled in, gasping as he licked up her seam, swirling his tongue around the bud of her pleasure.

She clawed at her skirts, attempting to find his head so that she might pull him closer. He obliged by licking her again with even more pressure. Over and over, he used his tongue against her flesh, whimpers and moans falling from her lips as her hips matched the rhythm of his movements. He was as relentless in this pursuit as he was in all others and soon she was so close, her body was one aching ball of tension.

As if he could sense her need, he inserted a finger into her channel, the sensation of fullness and the pressure on just the right place causing her to break, her body spasming as an orgasm ripped through her.

He was up in a second, surging to capture her lips with his. The kiss was sloppy and desperate and filled with the passion that always built between them.

“We were meant for this,” he growled against her lips. “You were meant for me.”

Her head lolled back, her eyes half closed, her body limp, but her mind rang with a bell that sounded like a warning. “I thought this little tryst was an apology.”

“It was.” From this angle she could see the bulge that pressed against the tightness of his breeches and, lord help her, her body responded, her hand itching to touch him.

“Then don’t try to make it something else.” Her skirts were still up, and she reached to push them back down her legs, but he stopped her, his hand covering hers.

“I’m not. I’m simply saying we work like nothing I’ve experienced before.”

She wasn’t certain why she did it, but she reached for his hand then, bringing it back to her most intimate parts. He automatically cupped her, a possessive growl filling his chest. The only light from the swaying carriage lantern hanging on the side of the carriage, casting him in and out of shadow.

“It could be better. So much better.” It was the truth. Their bodies worked. Their hearts and minds? Not yet. She didn’t know if they ever would.

“How?” He leaned closer. Kissing her again. “Tell me.”

“I’d have to show you,” she whispered against his lips. “But first you have to consent to allow me to stay in London after we marry. With you.”

“No. Chloe. You know I can’t give that to you.”

She shook her head, trying to push him away. “Then I can’t give you my hand.”

He didn’t move, somehow remaining suspended over her as his eyes held hers. “You can and you will. Whatever you think we lack, one way or another, we will wed.”

His voice dropped so low, it made her shiver. “I will give you the protection that being a duchess can provide. You are mine to keep safe.”

She pushed him again and this time, he allowed her feeble attempt to send him backward so that he landed in his seat. “It seems we are at an impasse.”

“Fortunately, I know just how to weaken you.”

She pushed down her skirts, sitting up straighter. “Funny. I was going to say the same to you.” He was here in this carriage and not at the ball, wasn’t he?

He gave her another devilish grin. “It’s war then?”

“It’s war.”

“My victory is going to taste so sweet.” He laced his hands behind his head, leaning back at a cocky angle.

“Your victory?” She traced the edge of her gown with her finger, over her shoulder and along her chest. His eyes darkened as he watched. She had a few weapons too. She’d used every one and this rakish duke was going down. She didn’t want just his body or even his hand. She’d take nothing short of his heart.

It was war all right. And this country mouse was going to win.

* * *

The next evening, Ryker sat in the sitting room just off the entry waiting. He knew he was positioned like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey.

But he’d heard Chloe preparing for the evening and he knew she intended to go out.

Had she made plans with the widow?

Did she intend to use his jealousy against him? It was a smart play. Here he was, sitting at home on a Friday evening, waiting to see what she might do, rather than being out at his club or attempting to complete his next challenge.

He was going to be cleaning the whorehouse for certain at this rate. But the competition that Chloe presented was much more interesting.

The stakes were higher and the reward of being intimate with Chloe so much more gratifying.

He knew it had been his goal to avoid that very situation, but he reasoned a bit of satisfaction might do them both good.

He tried not to think too hard about how he was losing his original goals or how she’d accused him of being as selfish as his father.

She had a point.

But what she didn’t know about was the man’s cruelty. What if he was same sort of father? It was a risk he wasn’t certain he could or should take. He’d only know the answer when it was too late.

His chest tightened and for a moment, he considered calling off this entire charade. Should he do as she requested and let her go? Allow her to marry a man who could give her the future she deserved?

He heard the soft tap of her footfalls on the marble stairs before he saw her. Rising from his seat, she reached the entry, coming into his line of view.

Her low-cut gown clung to her body, exposing a fair bit of her breasts and all the smooth skin of her chest and neck.

He let out a low rumble as he drew himself up.

Let her go? No fucking way.

But he didn’t move either. He knew what game she was playing, and he had to admit, she was playing it well.

Tempting, teasing, making him jealous. But he had a few games of his own. He’d let her go out, let her get comfortable in the ballroom, and then…

He’d pounce.

The front door opened, the Countess Green coming into view. The two women kissed on each other’s cheek.

“My apologies for leaving the Rightly ball so suddenly,” Chloe murmured, grasping the other woman’s hands. “My night got very complicated.”

Lady Green gave a low laugh. “Worry not. So did mine.”

“What happened to you?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, the countess’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder. “A situation that I shall never find myself in again.”

Ryker’s brows lifted. Did that situation concern Strongborn? The challenge was to bed a widow and Countess Green was that. His eyes moved over her, realizing that she was also quite lovely. How had he missed that until now?

And then he looked back at Chloe. He’d missed Lady Green’s beauty because of Chloe… she had completely filled his gaze.

Even now, the details of the other woman faded away. All he could see was Chloe’s large blue eyes. Her lush hair, the lines of her body.

His teeth clenched as he finally stepped out of the shadows of the sitting room and into the entry. “And where are you ladies off to this evening?”

Chloe jumped, clearly surprised as the countess turned to him. “Your Grace.” She dipped into a deep curtsy.

“I could ask you the same.” Chloe looked at him, clearly assessing his evening wear. He didn’t answer her question either, but not because he was being intentionally evasive. The truth was, he intended to follow her this evening.

Was he the predator he’d hoped or had he just been leashed? Difficult to say. “But you didn’t, love. So why don’t you tell me, where are you off to?”

“Whites,” Chloe answered, knowing it was her duty as his charge to at least inform him. “I’ve always wanted to see the inside of those famous clubs and Countess Green is a member.”

Ah. Yes. Her wish to explore the city. “My aunt really spared no expense on your wardrobe,” he murmured moving closer. That gown was made for sin, and he could just imagine taking it off her. But every man in that club would be thinking the same.

She looked away. “You don’t approve?”

He stopped a few feet away. Close enough that he could have trailed a finger over her bare skin. “If it’s attention you want, you’ll surely get it.”

Chloe shifted, nipping at that supple bottom lip as Countess Green cleared her throat.

“Should we?” she asked.

“Let’s,” he answered with a toothy grin that he was certain made him look more like a lion than a man.

Both women started. “Oh. But…” Chloe fumbled.

He took a half step closer. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight in that dress, you are sorely mistaken.”

The countess cleared her throat again. Louder. “Right. Shall we all take my carriage?”

“Perfect. I’ll have mine follow,” he answered, offering the countess his arm. “We’re going to have a wonderful time tonight.”

Chloe fell in step behind them. “I highly doubt that,” she said. “I don’t know why you insist on being such a beast.”

He looked back at her, devouring her with his gaze. “That is one of my best qualities.”