Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novel (16 page)

“A roast, some bread, whatever vegetables you have that aren’t cooked within an inch of their lives, and a bottle of your
best wine.”

“Excellent, Your Grace,” the nervous innkeeper said. They’d left the Powers and Smith factory an hour before, traveling to
the inn that Cheltam had plotted they should stay at.

The innkeeper nodded again, and then left, backing out of the private room Cheltam had booked.

It had been a surprisingly good day, Michael thought. First there was how he’d spent the night before, which was definitely
pleasurable. And then there was the factory tour, and how she’d defended him against an inaccurate presumption. That shouldn’t
have touched him as it did—after all, she was his employee, and some measure of loyalty was expected in return for her salary—but
he knew it was more than that. It was because she knew him, and understood him.

She sat opposite, not looking at him, but instead concentrating on the ever-present papers that seemed to be as much in his
presence as she was. She was, she’d told him five minutes earlier, making sure the notes she’d taken were legible, and reorganizing
them into a clear document.

He didn’t particularly care about the information she’d present, he’d already decided what he thought, but it couldn’t hurt
to have more information to support his own reaction.

And he had to admit it was refreshing, even if it piqued him, that he was in a room with someone and they were not focusing
all their attention on him. Except for Chester, who didn’t seem to notice when he was in the room unless it was time to go
for a walk, everyone was focused on him when they were in the same room together.

He really needed to get more friends, people who would ignore him if they were together. Although he wasn’t quite sure that
met the definition of “friends.”

The innkeeper returned, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set them down, darting nervous glances at Michael as
he opened the wine and poured.

“Your food will arrive soon, Your Grace,” the man said, bobbing his head as he spoke.

“Thank you,” Cheltam said, after a moment of silence.

“Right, thank you,” Michael echoed.

The man bobbed again, and left.

“Here’s where you’re going to tell me I should be polite,” he said.

She tilted her head and regarded him. “No, you know you should be polite. You just choose not to. You don’t have to. In my
position—whether it’s as your employee or a female—I have to be polite.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I wish it weren’t so.”

“Would you be as rude as me if you could?” He planted his elbows on the table, which he absolutely knew he should not do,
and leaned forward. Would he ever get tired of looking at her face?

Well, sadly, he could answer that. Most likely. He always had before. But for now, it felt as though he could never get enough
of looking at her.

She seemed to consider it, glancing away from his gaze. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, because it just doesn’t feel considerate.
I hope I am always considerate.”

Thoughts of how she could be considerate to him shouldn’t set him ablaze with desire, and yet they did.

“Where is that food anyway?” The sooner they ate, the sooner they would retire for the evening, and the sooner he could have
her again.

“Patience, Hadlow,” she said in an amused voice. “It’s only been five minutes.”

“Don’t they know who I am?” he said in mock arrogance. “Food should cook faster when it’s for a duke.”

She laughed, reaching forward to take his hand. “Some things are worth the wait,” she said, glancing at him from under her
lashes.

That look sent a shock of lust straight to his cock. If it weren’t for the fact that the innkeeper would likely return soon,
he’d have had her on the table right now.

“You know what you do to me.” He spoke in a low rumble. Her face got pink, and she lowered her gaze, biting her lip as she
did so.

“As much as what you do to me, Michael,” she replied in a soft voice.

The use of his given name—the first time she had called him anything but “Your Grace” or “Hadlow”—felt like they were inhabiting
a secret place, one where it was only them.

He cleared his throat, uncomfortable for a moment at all the feelings that were roiling inside him. Feelings he’d never had
before, not even at the onset of a new affair. He should squash them, make sure they couldn’t interfere with his life, his
work, his position.

He leaned back in his seat, taking his hand away from hers. “I cannot wait to fuck you again, Edwina,” he said, deliberately
crass in his language. She had to know, to understand just what they were doing, and what this was about. He couldn’t afford
entanglements, not with her, someone he would tire of, eventually, someone who was not of his class, who was nothing more
than his lovely, desirable, eminently fuckable employee.

She swallowed, and looked away. “I do hope dinner comes soon,” she said in a voice that crackled with desire.

He sighed, feeling a relief, but also a pang, that she was just as clear as he was on what they were doing. He was being entirely
contrary in his emotions—given that he was having emotions in the first place, which was contrary to his nature—wanting her
to become invested in him, but not wanting her to so there would be no hurt after.

Goddamn it. This was getting to be far more complicated than he’d anticipated. Mostly because of him, and his pesky emotions.

But one thing was true: he couldn’t wait to fuck her again.

She knew what he was doing. He was reminding her that this was nothing more than what it was, for which she was grateful.
Even if she was also resentful that she did seem to need the reminder, since she could so easily see herself falling in love
with him.

She probably was already in love with him, if she were honest with herself. But she wouldn’t be that honest with
him
—she knew admitting her feelings would cause him to push her away, to ensure that this ended even sooner than it should have.
And it would end. He would need to marry someone, someone who had the right breeding, and was younger than she was, and who
could be counted on to be the perfect duchess.

Not that she had any illusions that he would find someone who would be perfect for him. But that was his problem, not hers.
Unless he suddenly decided his secretary/lover should take on the responsibility of researching the likely candidates, just
as she was doing with his potential investments.

Oh God. Please don’t let him be
that
practical.

“Here we are, Your Grace.” The innkeeper returned with another servant, the latter bearing a tray filled with their food.
The innkeeper oversaw the placement of everything, then nodded approvingly. “Is there anything else I can get for you, Your
Grace?”

“Nothing more, thank you,” the duke said, shooting a knowing glance at Edwina, as though to say,
See? I can be polite when I want to be.

The door closed behind the man, and Edwina reached out to pick up a slice of meat on the tray.

“Let me serve you.” He stood as he spoke, walking to where she sat, lowering his mouth to her shoulder and placing an openmouthed
kiss on it.

Her entire body reacted, her nipples tightening, her legs coming together to squeeze in that place that felt so good when
he’d touched it. He chuckled, as though he knew what he was doing to her, and reached over her other shoulder to pick up a
slice of the roast, placing it on her plate. And then his other hand went to the bowl of carrots, taking a spoonful of them
and dropping them on her plate.

He plucked the napkin from the table and unfolded it, placing it on her lap, touching her thighs as he arranged it. So close
to where she tingled, where she wanted him, that she realized she’d made an involuntary noise. A moan, if she were to be honest.

And then his fingers gripped her chin, and he twisted her head so their mouths could meet.

Ah. This was the sustenance she wanted, not any of the food on the table. His mouth, tasting of wine and redolent with warmth,
his tongue licking, tangling with hers. Her fingers went up to clutch his hair, pulling him closer, twisting more in her seat
so she could have access to more of him, to their bodies touching.

He clamped his hands on her shoulders and raised her to standing, still kissing her, now folding her against his body. His
clearly excited body.

She pushed against that part of him, loving how he responded with a low, throaty growl. Aware that she was doing this to him,
making him lustful, and passionate, and almost—almost caring.

It felt special, even though she knew it was something he’d done before. And would do again, with another woman at some point
in the future. But right now he was hers, and this was theirs, and she was going to enjoy it as much as she could.

His mouth ravaged hers for a few long minutes, then he broke the kiss, gasping, resting his head on her forehead. “We should
eat something very quickly, and then we should go up to bed.
My
bed,” he added, as though he needed to make it absolutely clear where this was all going. As if she would be heading off
to her own bed after that kiss.

She nodded, and slid down his body, settling herself back in her chair, taking a sip of wine, and picking up her knife and
fork. He returned to his side of the table, his eyes on her face, his gaze almost seeming as though it was going to devour
her.

He placed food on his own plate and ate efficiently, spearing his meat and eating in fast bursts. If she weren’t so intent
on finishing the meal as quickly as possible she’d be concerned he would choke, but she was, and so she refrained from mentioning
the possibility.

Not to mention, he wasn’t a child, even though he acted with the headstrong impudence of one at times. But now she couldn’t
fault that tendency in him; she wanted the same thing, so much so that they finished their meal within about ten minutes.
She looked at him as he took his last bite, allowing a seductive smile to cross her lips. His gaze alit on her mouth, and
her lips tingled, feeling as though he’d touched her there.

“I am finished,” she said, getting up from her chair. She dropped the napkin on the table and walked to the door, opening
it and waiting for him. He didn’t waste any time following her; he was too close, in fact, for mere employee and employer.

She turned to speak to him over her shoulder. “I will go up now. Wait a few minutes, and go to your room. I’ll be there in
ten minutes.”

He looked as though he were going to argue, then just pressed his lips together and nodded.

She walked out, closing the door behind her, her whole body anticipating reuniting with his.

Edwina poked her head out of her room and glanced both ways in the corridor. Nobody was there, thank goodness. She darted
out into the hallway, still dressed, but carrying her dressing gown over her arm. He would just have to help her undress,
which she didn’t think he would mind. She could explain away wandering the hallway in her gown, but not in her sleeping attire.

Hopefully the inn would be quiet when it was time for her to return.

It felt so scandalous, which of course it was, but also adventurous. And exciting. She’d never done anything like this before,
had any kind of clandestine meeting. Even before she was married to Mr. Cheltam, she’d kept herself away from impudent suitors,
knowing that her parents were depending on her to make a good marriage so she would be settled.

She walked swiftly down the hall, keeping one hand on the wall to guide herself in the dark. His room was at the end of the
corridor, so there was no chance she would knock on the wrong door.

And also there was the fact that his door was slightly ajar, leaking a soft light that guided her. She pushed the door open
and shut it behind her softly, her breath catching as she saw him.

He lay on the bed nearly unclothed, his chest bare, wearing only his smallclothes. His penis jutted up from the fabric and
his hand was on himself, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her enter.

“You started without me,” she said in a low voice.

“I did,” he said, sliding his hand up and down himself through the fabric. “I can’t stop thinking about the noise you make
when you climax. Or how your pussy spasmed in my mouth as I licked you.”

“Oh,” she said, feelings of shock and titillation warring for dominance in her mind.

The titillation won.

“Come over here so I can undress you. Unless you’d care to undress for me?” he said, raising an eyebrow. Still, his hand moved
slowly, rhythmically on himself, and she was transfixed at the sight. He was so strong, so powerful, and he was touching himself
because of her. She had the power over him now.

“I can do that,” she replied in a whisper, her hands going to the back of her gown. She’d long ago mastered undressing herself
when her husband hadn’t been able to pay for a lady’s maid any longer. For the first time, she was thankful for her husband’s
careless finances, since it meant she had acquired the skill that it seemed this man wanted her to demonstrate.

She slid each button through the hole, wiggling as she did so. When she’d unbuttoned a few, she pushed her shoulders together
and slid the fabric of her sleeves down her arms. His gaze was on her chest, his hand working his penis as he regarded her.

She undid a few more buttons, then pushed it down her hips, stepping out of it, standing only in her shift.

“I can see your nipples through the fabric.” His voice was strained, and she felt her throat get thick. “Hard and pink. I
can’t wait to get my mouth on them,” he said. “Get that off and come over here,” he said in his most commanding voice.

She had to admit she liked it when he told her what to do, when he said those shocking, dirty words to her. Something in her
felt as though it had been kindled when he spoke. She felt the words bubbling inside her brain—she wanted to talk about how
watching his hands on himself made her wet, how she couldn’t wait to have him inside her—but she wasn’t sure she could.