Dark Duke Read online

  “I need… I need… I need.”

  Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “I know. I know you need.”

  “I can’t… I can’t…”

  “Not much longer now. You’ve done very well.” His lips were warm against her brow. He licked the tears from her cheek. “Not much longer now.”

  He released the belt and the phallus fell to the floor with a thud. His palm skated over her burning bottom. She shivered as he pulled a cheek aside and something slick nudged her—oh, heavens. Something slick nudged her pucker. Eased in.

  She groaned. A sound dredged from the depth of her being, from the deepest, darkest well. The strangest wash of pleasure flooded her as he eased a slender rod into her arse.

  “No!”

  “Yes.” He silenced her denial by plunging three fingers into her cunt. She sucked in a breath and fought the welling insanity, the clawing desire to release.

  “I-I…”

  “Hold on. Just hold on.”

  She nearly fainted when he released her legs and wrists. He led her across the room and bent her over a rounded bar. She realized it was, of course, the footboard of the bed. He tied her wrists again—to what, she did not know. But when he pulled the rope tight, her hands lifted toward the head of the bed.

  He strapped her ankles to either side of the bed as well, completely opening her.

  A shard of anticipation snarled through her. Because she knew what was coming. She was in a position for the one thing she wanted more than her next breath.

  She was positioned for his cock.

  He did not make her wait any longer.

  He thrust in, a hard, hot invader, taking her, possessing her, completing her.

  Her body seized. “I must… I need…”

  “Ah. Kaitlin.”

  She whimpered as pleasure scored her. She was no longer Fiona. She was Kaitlin and he was Edward and he was in her and it was bliss.

  “Yes, darling. Yes, my love.” He pounded into her again and again, each plunge more feral than the last. “Come for me.”

  It was all she needed.

  Her control slipped its leash and she exploded around him, clasping him and riding him and drawing him into her insanity. She hissed and growled and then whimpered as she came, uncontrollably tightening the path through which he forged.

  His cock swelled and she came again as his rigid length battered that tender bundle of nerves deep in her fortress, scuttling her reason, her thoughts, her wits until there was nothing left, nothing left but sensation and passion and absolute adoration.

  God yes. As he bathed her with his seed, she was flooded with an undeniable knowledge, the burning, scalding truth.

  She loved him.

  Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke.

  She loved him with all her heart and soul.

  And she would until the day she died.

  Chapter Thirteen

  From then on, they worked at home, in the third floor study of his mansion. It was much more convenient and a lot less distracting. Though Edward did allow himself to be distracted with satisfying frequency.

  They were a good team, he and Kaitlin, sharing ideas and inspiring each other and disagreeing regularly. She was fast, and because she was there, his little ginger muse, he was fast as well.

  They finished Brigand in three days, though once she’d read it, she made him change the title to Ravaged, which she insisted was far more gripping. They moved on to A Midsummer Night’s Tempest, a lurid play on Shakespeare’s work, because she enjoyed the bard and she really liked drawing fairies. And then, because she insisted, they started The Pirate’s Booty.

  His writing was better with her around. So much steamier. And easier.

  And he wasn’t all alone anymore.

  He liked it very much.

  The staff liked it very much as well. Because he sent them on holiday, all but a skeleton crew to keep them fed—and Transom, who refused to leave.

  He enjoyed having Kaitlin all to himself.

  Their idyll was shattered when, one day three weeks after he’d left, Ned returned. He was exhausted and pale—for he had ridden from Scotland on horseback, stopping only when he was ready to drop.

  Thank heaven Edward and Kaitlin were hard at work in the study when he arrived, and not engaged in some other pursuit. He burst in on them with Transom on his heels.

  “Your Grace! It’s a disaster! You must come to Scotland at once!” the boy gasped.

  Transom threaded his fingers. “I did try to stop him, Your Grace.”

  Edward nodded to his butler and led Ned to the wingchair and made him sit, then poured him a brandy. Ned refused it with a shake of his head, but Edward insisted. The boy was trembling.

  “What is it, Ned? What’s happened?” Kaitlin asked after he’d had a sip and caught his breath.

  “It’s Violet. She’s been kidnapped!”

  A hard ball formed in Edward’s gut. Violet was a sweet, gentle soul. Visions of her in the hands of evil men flickered through his mind, making him feel ill.

  Kaitlin went pale. She wobbled a little. Sat with a plop in the companion chair.

  “She was taken by Callum MacAllister.” Ned flicked a look at Kaitlin. She paled even more. Pressed her lips together. “He told Aunt Hortense if Kaitlin didn’t come home, we would never see Violet alive again.”

  Kaitlin gasped. “He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Your Grace, you must come at once.”

  “Of course. Transom? Transom!” he bellowed.

  “Your Grace?” Transom said from his elbow, making him start. Oh yes. He’d come in the room with Ned, hadn’t he?

  “Ready my coach.”

  “At once, Your Grace.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Kaitlin said.

  “No you’re not.” He kissed her brow, ignoring the fact that Ned watched his every move with a prickly look on his face. Ned could find his own muse.

  “I must go.”

  Edward shot her a look. “I thought you couldn’t return to Scotland?”

  “That doesn’t matter now. I know why Callum took her. And I know who has her.”

  Confusion coiled through him. How could she? How could she possibly know? “Who? Who has her?”

  “My betrothed.”

  Something vile and nasty slithered through him, nesting in his chest. “Your what?”

  “My betrothed. The man Callum sold me to.”

  “He wants to marry you?” Fuck. He hadn’t known that. If he had, he never would have—well hell. Yes he would have.

  She glared at him. “Why do you say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like no one would ever want to marry me?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. You said he had sold you to a brigand. I assumed—”

  “What?”

  “That he sold you to a brothel.”

  Her mouth formed a charming little “O”. Unfortunately, she was not in that kind of mood. And they had visitors. “Edward Wyeth. For shame.”

  “Why do you presume this betrothed would have Violet?” And God it rankled that Kaitlin had one. That someone, somewhere, was waiting to marry her. He didn’t want to work out why.

  She huffed out a breath. “Callum isn’t stupid. He knows our home is the first place Ned would look.”

  Ned nodded. “We went there, of course. He laughed at us. Said she was somewhere we’d never find her.”

  “So he gave her to the McCloud.”

  Edward froze. “The McCloud? Ewan McCloud? That’s the man you’re supposed to marry?”

  She nodded. The little hairs on his nape rose. Edward knew Ewan McCloud. They’d had…dealings. Years ago. When they’d both been quite young. McCloud was deeper and darker than Kaitlin could ever imagine.

  “You’re not marrying him.”

  She sighed. “That’s why I left. But now he has Violet. I have to go back.”

&n
bsp; “I will handle this.”

  “Honestly, Edward. You can’t fix this.”

  The hell he couldn’t.

  He could. He would.

  * * * * *

  They left for Scotland immediately—he and Ned and Transom—and because she insisted on coming, Kaitlin came as well.

  But he wasn’t happy about it.

  They didn’t stop much, during their headlong flight to Scotland, just the occasional pause to change horses and pick up food or use the facilities. He and Transom took turns driving the coach, sleeping when they were not on the box. Kaitlin slept in his arms, nestled against him as though she had the right. As though he had the right to hold her. Edward ignored Ned’s dark looks across the cab.

  But the boy said nothing. Until they found themselves alone in the courtyard of a dingy Scottish inn just on the border. Transom was dealing with the innkeeper, arranging for lunch baskets, and Kaitlin was inside washing up.

  Ned’s impudent question came at him from the blue. “What are your intentions toward her?”

  Edward winced. He should have been annoyed, insulted to be interrogated by someone so much younger, but he wasn’t. It was clear Ned truly cared for Kaitlin.

  Still, it galled him.

  Because he wasn’t sure of his intentions.

  As he hesitated, Ned’s fists opened and closed, as though preparing for an assault.

  Edward decided to dissemble. “Why do you ask?”

  “I see the way you look at her. The way she looks at you. She’s a good girl, despite what happened with Dougal. A decent woman. She doesn’t deserve to be debauched by a—” His ears turned pink.

  “A degenerate? It’s all right, Ned. You can say it. I’ve heard it before.”

  “Your Grace…”

  Edward sighed. “Please. Call me Edward. We are cousins after all.”

  Ned tugged down his waistcoat. “I cannot be familiar with a man who takes advantage of helpless women.”

  “She’s hardly helpless.”

  “You know what I mean. What would happen to her, should unfortunate consequences arise?”

  Edward looked down at the ground. Kicked a tuft of scraggly Scottish grass. He meant if there should be a child. Why that prospect snagged his attention, sent a little shard of pleasure through him, he didn’t know. “She will be taken care of. No matter the consequences. I assure you.”

  “She deserves better.”

  “She’ll never have anything but the best.”

  “As what? Your mistress?” Odd how that word seemed to hiss from his lips.

  “There are worse fates.” Kaitlin would make a fine mistress. She was already almost trained. He certainly wasn’t letting Ewan have her.

  “There is no worse fate. Not for a well-born girl.”

  Edward stilled. “She’s a companion.”

  “A well-born girl. Who became a companion.”

  His heart thudded. Once. “How well-born?”

  “Her father was an earl.”

  Holy Hell.

  The snake was back, slithering around in his belly, spitting venom.

  In his world, a man did not debauch an earl’s daughter. He did not tie her to a chair and make her scream with pleasure. He certainly did not toss up her skirts and paddle her behind with glee. He did not incite her to make naughty sketches of illicit activities.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  But wait…

  “Her father is dead, isn’t he?”

  Edward never saw it coming.

  Ned’s fist landed flat in his face, sending him hurtling into the dust.

  A pity that, because it was his turn to drive.

  * * * * *

  When they arrived at Agnes’ estate on the outskirts of Perth it was late. Still, everyone was up. All the lights in the house were burning. Hortense met them at the door. She stopped short when she saw Edward. “What for mercy’s sake happened to your face?”

  “Ned punched him.” Kaitlin stripped off her gloves and set them on the table. “I cannot think why.”

  “We had a disagreement.”

  “Hmm.” Hortense’s bosom rippled. Edward suspected a smothered laugh. “Well, do come in. We’re in the drawing room.”

  The entire family was assembled, all the boys, but unlike any Wyeths of Perth Edward had ever seen. For one thing, they were silent. And still. Hamish and Tay sat together on the divan hanging their heads. Sean brooded by the window and Dennis stood beside him fingering the drapes. They all looked as though they’d lost a part of themselves.

  It was heartbreaking.

  “Have you notified the constable?”

  “Naturally.” Hortense took her seat. Even she looked beset. And here he’d thought her unflappable. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “The constable’s a drunkard,” Malcolm, hunched in a chair by the pianoforte, grumbled.

  Hortense snorted. “True. He’s not much help.” Transom entered the chamber, carrying the small bags they’d packed. “Oh good. You brought reinforcements.”

  “What shall we do?” Malcolm wailed. “Whatever shall we do?”

  Edward had thought a lot about this, and had formed a plan. “I’m going to visit Colonel Sterling straightaway.” It was nearly the middle of the night, but he didn’t care. Sterling had been with him and Ewan, in France. “If anyone knows how to contact the McCloud, it would be John Sterling.”

  Transom nodded.

  “What about Callum?” Kaitlin asked. “Shouldn’t I go and see him?”

  “No!” He didn’t mean to bark but this Callum fellow had already kidnapped one woman. If he even knew Kaitlin was here, he would take her too. That, he couldn’t bear.

  “But Edward, I can reason with him.”

  “He does not seem like a reasonable man.”

  She put out a lip. “He’s quite reasonable…just desperate.”

  “We will deal directly with the McCloud.” That was the heart of the problem—that Ewan wanted Kaitlin in exchange for Callum’s debt. He would meet with Ewan and very logically offer him twice the amount due to let both Kaitlin and Violet go.

  If he knew Ewan—and he did—he’d take the money.

  Then Edward would take them both, take them all, back to London and everything would be fine. It would. He would work this out.

  “You should go to bed. You’re all in.” He kissed Kaitlin on the forehead before he’d realized what he’d done. He turned to find every eye fixed upon him. Hortense’s was particularly sharp.

  “Hmm,” she said, her gaze flicking back and forth between them.

  Malcolm put out a lip.

  Ned glared.

  Hamish and Tay gaped at him.

  Dennis’ fingers stilled on the drapes and Sean growled.

  Hell. He’d done it now. “You should all go to bed.” Again he barked. “Transom and I will handle this.”

  “Come along boys. Come along.” Hortense clapped her hands. They stood and filed into the hall, each pausing to narrow their eyes at Edward. As though he’d stolen one of their toys.

  Between this, and the conversation he’d had with Ned, he was feeling decidedly uneasy about his relationship with Kaitlin. It was annoying, because he really liked his relationship with Kaitlin and didn’t want to lose it, or her. Also, he’d never disappointed anyone before. Not anyone he’d really cared about.

  Ah. That was a surprise. He did care about them, the Wyeths of Perth. Even surly Malcolm and slightly feral Sean. When had that happened?

  Still, it was a relief when they tramped up the stairs and Edward was released from their discomfiting perusal.

  They all tramped upstairs—all but Kaitlin and Ned.

  “Aren’t you going to bed?” he asked of the young man. Ned had been traveling for nearly two straight weeks with very little sleep.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “She’s my sister. I need to go with you.”

  Edward had never had a sister, but he couldn’t refuse Ned. He could see the des
peration in his eyes. So even though they were still quite uncomfortable together, and probably always would be, he nodded.

  “I’m going too.” This from Kaitlin, in a now-familiar intransigent tone.

  He froze. “You’re not coming.”

  “Of course I’m coming. Edward, what do you think this is all about? Callum wants to trade me for Violet.”

  A hard ball curled in his gut. “He’s not trading you for anyone. I will negotiate for Violet’s return with the McCloud.”

  She surveyed him. The sad look on her face wrenched his heart. “The McCloud does not negotiate.”

  “He will negotiate with me. You are not going.”

  “I must. Edward.” She set her hand on his arm. “It is my duty. Violet is my dearest friend. She was taken because of me. Don’t you see?”

  “You’ll be safer here.”

  “I shall be perfectly safe. The McCloud won’t hurt me. He wants to marry me.”

  “You are not marrying him.” Why he snarled, he didn’t know.

  “I don’t see any other way. If only I had made enough— Oh bother. Edward. Take that look off your face. We both knew this wouldn’t last forever.”

  Acid rose in his throat. He had known. Known it wouldn’t last forever. Fully expected as much. Expected to tire of her by now. He had not.

  But the thought of Kaitlin in any other man’s bed, especially Ewan McCloud’s, made that tight ball in his belly churn and howl. The thought of losing her, of never holding her again, sent panic skittering through his soul.

  He glanced at Ned, who was watching this exchange with a dark glower, then took her arm and turned her to the side so they could speak with the illusion of privacy.

  “Kaitlin, darling. Let me handle this. I promise you, it will all work out.”

  She crossed her arms. “How can you promise that?”

  “I will get Violet back and I swear, upon all that is holy, you will never have to marry a man against your will. Certainly not because of something as inconsequential as money.”

  “It is hardly an inconsequential amount of money.”

  Edward snorted. How could he make her understand that to him, money was the least consequential thing in his life? He would give anything to keep her.

  The realization slammed into him like a carriage gone amok. Everything crystallized, became achingly clear.