Page 21 of Curves for the Scandalous Duke
“Also, once we’re wed?—”
“I haven’t agreed,” she replied, barely able to breathe with Lavisham touching her. “Also, you promised ruination.”
“I’m getting to that.” His tongue trailed down to her navel, circled, then dipped lower. “Allow me to convince you further.”
“Oh,” she gasped as his tongue trailed along the slit of her sex, a surprising but entirely welcome sensation. “I can see your side of things.”
“I might choose some of your gowns.” His finger slipped inside her while his mouth and tongue did the most incredible things.
Josephine could barely make a sound, pinned beneath him on the sofa as he pleasured her in the most erotic manner. Small sobs of pleasure escaped her, the crescendo she’d experienced before building in pitch.
“Bold colors,” he murmured against her flesh. “No more pinks and pale blues, but indigo. Deep purples. Forest green. Crimson.”
She would agree to anything he asked at the moment, if only he did not stop.
But Lavisham did stop. Which was entirely disappointing. “No. Please—” Her eyes snapped open.
Clothing rustled. His shirt sailed over her head. A large pair of boots thudded to the floor next to her own.
“As I was saying…” The sofa creaked as Lavisham’s large body loomed over her own, warming her skin. “I find you appealing in pink, but you are bold, Josephine. Brave. Confident. A woman so striking that one cannot help but stare in awe.”
No one had ever seen her as such before. Only Lavisham.
“You are a lady. A duchess. One with whom others should not trifle.”
“I’m not a duchess,” she whispered as he pressed between her thighs.
“Not yet. And I find crimson to be carnal in nature. As a color.” He looked deep into her eyes, one hand holding her hip firm as he slowly sank inside Josephine. She winced at the stab of pain, the fullness, the stretch which was not entirely unpleasant. All the while Lavisham whispered the loveliest things to her calling Josephine his Valkyrie. That she should never want for adoration, love or anything else, as long as he lived.
Lavisham was so careful, treating Josephine as if she were a bit of fine bone china when she’d felt like anything but for most of her life. But he saw her differently. And for such a large man, he was incredibly gentle. Generous. Waiting until she reached her own pleasure before he found his own.
Chapter Nine
They lay on the sofa, afterwards, limbs entwined. Her fingers toyed with the ends of his hair, burnished gold in the firelight. “I confess to following you about London, Your Grace.”
“Call me Marcus.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I enjoyed it. Secretly. Also, I’m difficult to miss, given my size. Couldn’t have been that much work.”
Josephine curled up against him with a soft laugh.
“I promise to be a good and kind husband.” His breath ruffled her hair. “I have already sowed every wild oat in existence, so you’ve no fear I will stray. I want no one else. An annoyance when one is calledLustful Lavisham.”
“Good, because I can wield a rapier.”
A great booming sound came from him. Laughter. “Fair enough, duchess.”
“Not yet.” Though Josephine knew it a foregone conclusion.
“Close enough. I’ll speak to your brother immediately. If he doesn’t challenge me to a duel instead. There is the matter of you being naked in my study, and I’ve compromised you.” Marcus shrugged. “And will possibly do so again before we leave this room. You should have had a proper courtship.”
Josephine didn’t need one. Nor did she think it would have suited Lavisham. “Let us just say to Charles that we had an unconventional courtship. And I’ll send a note to Willa. She’ll find my maid and bring me something to wear.”
“A solid plan. But there will be something of a scandal. You came through the front door this time, not the garden.”
“Hmm. I’m not afraid of scandal.”
“Also this”—he reached over and plucked the brooch from the table—“is yours. I had a great deal of fun making you chase me for it. But the chicken belongs to you. Claim your inheritance.”
“It’s a peacock.” Josephine muffled her laughter against his chest. “And worth nothing.”
“Oh…” Marcus stroked her cheek. “I believe it to be worth a great deal. As are you.”
Josephine snuggled closer, content and happy as she had never been before. She and Marcus were brought together because her father had wagered that a scandalous duke would make a suitable husband for his daughter. He took a gamble on Lavisham and her. Part of her thought she should be angry with her father, yet, she was not.
“I think you are correct, Your Grace. The late Duke of Kenbrooks made an excellent wager.”
