Sins of a Wicked Duke Read online

  “Miss O’Rourke—” he paused to glare at Dominic, “Fallon. Who is this person?”

  “You were correct the first time. It’s Miss O’Rourke to you.” Dominic flicked the man the barest glance before looking back to Fallon and taking her hand. His warm fingers wrapped around hers, firm and unyielding as a vise. Facing each other, they fell utterly still. Mr. Simmons and the world disappeared for a long moment as their eyes locked, and clung. The blood rushed in her ears, a roaring buzz as she lost herself in the murky gray depths, the line of blue circling the iris especially dark. Then he blinked. The moment ended as quickly as it arrived.

  Before she could tug her hand free, he hauled her from the foyer without a word. She shot a quick glance behind her. The sight of the reverend’s pale, stunned face almost looked comical. Almost. She could have cracked a smile, if not for the very real feel of Dominic’s hand on hers, or the small thrill of heat that sizzled through her at the contact, bringing back in a flash all they had shared. All that she had tried to put behind her.

  He pulled her behind him into a drawing room she had never seen before. Not so surprising. In her limited exposure to Wayfield Park, she had yet to see all of its vast grounds or countless rooms. Mr. Collins was hardly up to giving a tour.

  The room was lovely. All yellow and creams with faint accents of blue. White and ivory-striped drapes were pulled back to allow the afternoon sun inside. She would have taken more time to admire the sunny room if not for the duke backing her up until she bumped into the pianoforte, his body a very large wall of heat at her front.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, eyes drilling relentlessly into her.

  “Lord Hunt provided me his old nanny’s cottage. Near the old mill east of Little Saums. It has been vacated these last—”

  “You’re living here?” He made a stabbing motion at the floor. “He sent you to live here?”

  “Well, not here.” She motioned to the room lamely. “Nearby.”

  Dominic smiled suddenly then, and she felt as though someone had thrust her from a very dark room into the warm sunshine again. “I don’t know whether I should thank him or trounce him the next time I see him.”

  Her stomach flipped at that smile. He had smiled so few times without mockery or wicked purpose since she knew him, it was like seeing a stranger. With that smile he was a greater threat than ever before. Enticing, charming…dangerous. More dangerous than the wicked duke she had first thought him to be.

  “Fallon,” he whispered, his hand lifting, brushing back a lock of hair from her forehead. She resisted the impulse to lean into his touch. It would be so easy to fall if she let herself, to give in to all that she had resisted by running away.

  Running away. She shook her head, her intemperate self disliking the notion. She had not run. She merely moved on with her life. A life that still did not include him. Nor the pitiable role of mistress he had offered her, scarcely a spot at all in his world. No matter how she loved him, she could not surrender herself to him.

  But what if he had changed? a small voice whispered, nudging at the hope buried in her heart.

  Her gaze crawled over his face, throat thickening, recalling the brief exchange she had overheard between him and his grandfather. Further evidence that a stranger stood before her. Not the duke she knew at all.

  He had come. When he said he would not, he had come.

  “Fallon,” he repeated her name, the tender emotion in his gaze wildly at odds with all those cool looks and wicked, empty smiles he’d given her in the past. She felt something unsafe unravel inside her. Hope. Dangerous indeed for one who had no business feeling it.

  “Don’t,” she murmured, afraid this time she could not walk away from him. Not again. Not when he looked at her with softness in his eyes. Not when, only moments ago, he had shown compassion she would never credit to him.

  “I’m glad you came to see your grandfather. Truly I am.” She tried to slip between him and the pianoforte. “I should leave you to your visit—”

  His arms came up, caging her in and stopping her. “You’re not running away again.”

  “Dominic, you need time with your grandfather right now. I will just be in the—”

  “I did not just come here for me, damn it.”

  Fallon stopped breathing.

  “I came here for you. For us. I need,” he said thickly, “you.”

  She breathed again, perhaps for the first time in her life since her father died. She breathed, lived, drawing air deeply into her lungs.

  He smiled, the grin loose, easy, even as a glimmer of anxiety flashed in his eyes. “Even my grandfather agrees with that.” His chest brushed the front of her gown and her nipples peaked, hardened against the fabric. Hot mortification washed over her. “I need you, Fallon.”

  She wet her lips. “I can’t do this. I won’t be your mistress—”

  He smothered the rest of her words with his lips.

  She whimpered, her hands pushing and pulling at the same time on his jacket. Everything flooded back with his kiss. His taste, his heat. The magic. Her tongue tangled with his as he bowed her over the pianoforte. She clutched his shoulders, fingers curling in his jacket, yearning, desperate, ready to climb on him, inside him.

  She didn’t care at the hard wood digging into her spine. She cared only for him, for his mouth fused to hers. Hot tears seeped between the closed lids of her eyes, and she knew in that moment, it was over. Done. She was past fighting. She loved him. Would have him, however he wanted her.

  He came up briefly, lips moving against her mouth as he said, “Be my wife.”

  She jerked free of his lips, her gasp a sharp rip of air in the stillness, hands flattening on his broad chest. “What?”

  He smiled that smile again and this time only hot need glimmered in his eyes. Her toes curled. “I don’t want to lose you. I want to spend every day for the rest of my life with you. When I thought I might never see you again…I felt more than I thought I ever could.” His hands tightened where he held her. “I felt pain, Fallon. I hurt…” He stopped, blinking slowly. “It’s simple. Without you, I ache. With you—” He shook his head and dove in for another kiss.

  She dodged his mouth. “But marriage? You’re a duke.”

  His lips twisted. “I know. I hope you’re not going to hold that against me.”

  She snorted a rough laugh and a slow smile spread across her face. She always had before, she realized. Disliked him and every other peer, on principle alone.

  “Yes, but I’m…” her voice faded, unsure what she was anymore. Not a servant. No longer a shadow walking the halls of Penwich waiting for a glimpse of sunlight, yearning for a place to call home.

  “The woman I love,” he finished. She felt her eyes widen as he continued. “Nothing else matters.”

  “And you’re the man I love.”

  He cupped her cheek in his hand, the calloused pads a familiar rasp on her skin. “That matters.”

  She laughed, the sound strangely freeing, lifting.

  “You’ve always wanted a home of your own, Fallon. I’ll give you that. A house wherever you want. I bloody well don’t care as long as I have you.” He waved a hand about the room. “Here. In London. At your cottage. Or I’ll build you the house of your dreams. Anywhere.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Just say yes.”

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  She placed both hands on each side of his face, holding him as though he were the dearest thing in the world to her. And amazingly, he was. All that she never dared dream of. A blue blood. A rake. A demon duke.

  “A house isn’t a home.” She had learned that lesson in the last few weeks. “You are. I love you. I can live in a stable, a shack, as long as I have you next to me.”

  He grinned. “A stable, eh? You don’t ask for much.”

  She brushed her lips to his, smiling with wicked promise. “Don’t fool yourself. I ask for a great deal—everything. You.”

  “I’m yours, but I’m afraid you�
��re going to learn that isn’t much compared to what I’m getting.” His hands grasped her, but it was a hold she doubted would ever feel too tight.

  “No, Dominic. You’re everything. And you’re mine.”

  Epilogue

  “T here you are.” Fallon stopped and propped her hands on her hips, looking down at her husband sprawled beneath a large oak tree, the day’s fading light casting him in seductive shadow. “What are you doing here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Dominic smiled at her—the wicked smile that still made her knees go weak. He reached up and tugged her down beside him. Sprawled beside him, his gaze traveled a warm trail over her. He dipped one finger inside the bodice of her dress, scraping a blunt nail across her flesh. “You look beautiful.”

  Her breath caught and she slapped lightly at his hand. “We’re going to be late.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” He patted the soft grass. “It’s a beautiful night.”

  “Here? In the garden?”

  “Hmm.” He inched closer, his breath a seductive rasp against her ear. Even married two years, he still stole her breath.

  “I thought you wanted to attend. It’s an important night for Ethan. For—”

  “He won’t miss us.”

  Fallon pouted, running her fingers over the red satin of her dress. “I did want to show off my gown…and it has been an age since we ventured out.”

  Dominic rolled her beneath him, his eyes so hot and hungry that she suddenly forgot about her dress. Or that he was crushing it. “As fetching as the gown is, I’d prefer you without it.”

  Bending his head, he kissed her, a deep and consuming kiss that ended abruptly at the sudden wail of a baby. His gaze shot to the window of the nursery.

  “Dominic?” Suspicion settled in her chest as she watched his eyes flash with anxiety. “Is that why you’re out here? To spy on the baby?”

  Gaze still on the nursery window, he asked hurriedly, “Do you think she’s all right?”

  Fallon glanced up. A light soon filled the room, and the nanny’s shadow passed the window. “Yes, Dominic. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s with Ms. Chitwood.”

  He scowled. “And what do we know of her?”

  “She comes highly recommended.”

  He grunted.

  “And I like her.”

  His shoulders slumped and he sent her a sheepish smile. “You think I’m behaving like an idiot.”

  She splayed a hand over his cheek, her heart overflowing with love for him, for their family. “I think you’re behaving like a father. A most excellent father.” Settling back against the tree, she motioned for him to join her. “We’ll have plenty of evenings out.”

  Grinning, he settled beside her with a deep, contented sigh. A sigh that she felt reach inside her, warming her heart. Their daughter’s coos and gurgles of delight floated on the air. She feathered her fingers through Dominic’s hair. “I can’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

  “Lying here watching our daughter’s window?”

  “No. Lying here with you watching our daughter’s window.”

  Acknowledgments

  There are several who read this book in its various parts and forms, and even more who listened to me talk it to death and always offered sage advice—ahhhing, nodding, laughing, and eye rolling when necessary. Thanks to each of you: Tera, Robyn, Ane, Christy, and Lindsay. And, as always, I could never do it without the wonderful May Chen. Thanks for helping me bring another one the final mile home. Long-overdue thanks goes to Tom Egner for all my amazing covers. And Maura Kye-Casella, my agent-extraordinaire, my friend, my sounding board—thank you doesn’t cover it.

  About the Author

  SOPHIE JORDAN, a former high school English teacher, resides in Houston with her family. When she’s not writing, she divides her time between inventing what she likes to call culinary masterpieces—her husband won’t always agree—and visiting her family’s pecan ranch in the Texas Hill Country. Sophie also writes paranormal romances under the name Sharie Kohler (www.shariekohler.net).

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Romances by Sophie Jordan

  SINS OF A WICKED DUKE

  SURRENDER TO ME

  ONE NIGHT WITH YOU

  TOO WICKED TO TAME

  ONCE UPON A WEDDING NIGHT

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SINS OF A WICKED DUKE. Copyright © 2009 by Sharie Kohler. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Microsoft Reader February 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-182823-2

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