Dukes Are Forever (London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy #5)(19)

"That's too kind of you."

"You're the one who said you were innocent," he pointed out. "It seems I have an unfair advantage."

His cock strained against the placket of his trousers. He'd said it to give himself the luxury of extending this chase between them—to give himself time to discover if his wife was innocent or dangerous. But the flex of his cock warned him: Adele was dangerous in more ways than one.

Because he wanted her.

Here.

Now.

And desire was possibly the only thing that could undo him.

"Innocent of pleasure, perhaps. Not of men's desires. Or their arrogance. I accept your deal. You were right," she said with a devilish smile. "You did make this worthwhile."

Then she set her hand against his chest and pushed insistently.

"But since I am in control of our game, it seems I must decline tonight's advances. Tonight you can go unfulfilled."

He trapped her hand there. "You don't accept my apology?"

"I'm fairly certain I didn't hear one."

Her smile glittered as brightly as the diamonds around her throat.

"'Til tomorrow then." Malloryn couldn't deny it wasn't disappointment that filled him, but interest.

He allowed her to escape.

"Dream of me," she whispered, backing away from the folly, lantern-light gleaming on her blue skirts. "All alone, wearing nothing more than my diamonds."

Why had he ever thought inexperience took away her edge?

"I will," he promised darkly.

And then she turned and dashed away through the gardens, glancing back over her shoulder, just once, to make sure he was watching.

Malloryn felt his weight shifting forward, the predator within him drawn to chase her. To capture her. To win. Adele's silvery laughter caught his ear as she read it on his face.

And then she was gone.

He crushed his fingers into a fist and forced himself to rein his darker urges in. Every part of that act had been choreographed to an inch, designed to intrigue him. And she'd succeeded. If they'd been dueling, then she had drawn first blood.

He could practically sense the jaws of her trap woven carefully around him. What a dangerous, dangerous woman.

He'd never been more convinced she was working for the enemy.





Chapter 6





Adele felt breathless as she clutched her skirts and dashed up the stairs back to the ballroom. An odd mix of victory, curiosity, and challenge filled her as she left her husband staring after her, and her cheeks ached from smiling so much.

For the first time since their wedding, she finally felt as though she held a little of the power between them.

And he'd given it to her.

Thoughts of Malloryn so distracted her that she hurried into the ballroom and slammed directly into a firm male body.

Hands caught her forearms and a husky laugh escaped her assailant. She was two seconds away from panicking when the scent of Devoncourt's familiar cologne caught her attention.

"If it isn't my favorite duchess," Lord Devoncourt mused, though his eyes flashed dark for a second, and he reached up to brush his thumb against her mouth.

Adele jerked her face away. "What are you doing here?"

Oh, God. If Malloryn followed her there'd be bloodshed.

She could still hear the chill in his voice when he cast that cursed photograph in her lap.

"This ends. Right now."

"When I saw your husband lure you into the gardens I thought all was lost, but here you are, rushing away from him as if you had the hounds of hell on your tail."

Nobody was watching them, but she couldn't afford to be seen here.

And she owed Devoncourt the truth: that while his flirtations had made her feel, for a moment, as if someone cared, they could not continue.

She grabbed his sleeve and hauled him into a nearby alcove. He wasn't even wearing a mask, as if he wanted the world to see him act so familiarly with her. "Are you trying to ruin me?"

"Trying, my dear. You've led me a merry chase."

Rough hands captured her face and his lips loomed close. Adele twisted her face away, her heart hammering as Devoncourt's mouth mushed wetly against her cheek.

"Unhand me, you idiot," she whispered, shoving against his chest. Every hint of desire she'd felt in the gardens with her husband shriveled up. What was he thinking? "My husband will kill you if he sees you."

Devoncourt staggered back, his brows drawing together. "He knows?"

The second his lips quirked, she realized he wasn't entirely displeased with the notion.

"He knows," she replied, then dragged her silk glove against her saliva-wetted cheek. Really. "He was displeased and insisted it go no further."

Devoncourt's smile held an edge she didn't like. "Malloryn can go to hell." His eyes focused on her again. "It's not as though he's ever given a damn about you, Adele."

"I'm quite aware of his feelings toward me, thank you very much." Probably more than you yourself are. Adele mimicked a smile. This needed to end. "Devoncourt, while I am fond of you, you caught me at a weak moment the other night. I owe my husband a debt I can never repay. I do not intend to cuckold him."

"So you'll play the dutiful wife, even as he flits about town with his mistress."