A Virgin for the Ruthless Duke (In War and Love #2)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

R ichard had always prided himself on his self-control. It was perhaps the reason why he had survived this long in polite society without being entangled in many scandals. His remarkable self-possession had been the fodder for whispers that he was as cold as ice and might have a preference for men.

While such a rumor might be annoying, he was usually unperturbed because he knew it wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. When he was younger, he had sown his wild oats just like other men his age, but now that he was older and more mature, he preferred to be discreet about his affairs, and that had been possible because of his self-discipline. It was one thing that he was sure of in his life.

Meeting Selina had thrown everything he knew about himself out of flux, including his willpower. Usually famed for being made of steel, it fell apart in her presence. He had yet to figure out how that had happened.

Surely, he had met more beautiful women, sirens in their own right, with more sensuality than should be legal, but for some reason, he had never felt the helpless burn of desire with them that he felt with Selina.

Perhaps it was her intelligence and sharp wit that never ceased to intrigue him, or maybe it was her eyes, those green pools that shone with intelligence and dark humor. Maybe it was her short, curvy figure that had him entranced.

Perhaps it was a combination of all the things that made her Selina, all those qualities in close proximity—in the close, intimate space of the library—that had eventually led to him kissing her when she came to his chambers, devouring her mouth like his life depended on it. The offense was probably worsened by the fact that he had been most likely to ravish her right there in the library with no care for her reputation or who might see them.

Instead of feeling remorse, standing alone in the library after she left, he found himself feeling a twinge of regret that they had not been caught. The thought was strange but one that he agreed with at a deep level. Somehow, he had developed feelings for her that went beyond sexual attraction. It appeared he was not averse to the idea of marrying her.

But whatever honorable thoughts he might have had after the deed did not negate the fact that he had committed the sin of seducing an innocent with such uncontrolled hunger.

He was surprised she had not run from him when they broke apart. While he understood that what he had done was wrong, he admitted that—in the deepest part of his soul—he could not summon an iota of regret. In fact, if the opportunity presented itself, he just might do it again because now that he had tasted her lips, he was developing an addiction to them.

His addiction was confirmed when the next morning brought them to a picnic in the gardens. It was a different event from what most members of the ton lived for, but it was a welcome adventure for both young and old noblemen who had grown weary of the typical Society balls and luncheons.

Most of them had ditched their formal suits for more casual attire to fit the open air and sunshine that the picnic spot afforded them. The men ditched their dress shoes for boots and their jackets for simple waistcoats, while the ladies wore bright-colored dresses that brightened the area, chasing away the usually serious and tiresome air that was associated with the events of polite society. That brightness was made more blinding by the appearance of Selina.

She was dressed in a yellow day dress. It was simple and sweet at first appearance, but to him, it might as well have been as scandalous as a transparent dress. The bodice—just like every one of her new dresses—was cut low, revealing a good portion of the creamy white skin of her breasts. They gleamed in the sunlight, inviting his touch and reminding him of what it felt like having them pressed against his chest when he had devoured her mouth the previous night.

Despite how stunning she looked, it seemed that she was not yet quite used to being the center of attention.

She stood at the corner of the picnic, fidgeting with the skirt of her dress while biting her lip nervously. It was a habit he had noticed she slipped into whenever she was nervous or unsure. Unfortunately, the action drew his eye to her lips and the way they gleamed pink, plump and healthy in the bright daylight.

Of course, the sight of her white teeth biting her lip did things to his composure—flooding him with memories of how it felt to have her lips beneath his, how sweet she had tasted, and how much he wanted to kiss her again.

The way his mind was going, he was well on his way to full-blown arousal here in public, under the scrutinizing, judging eyes of the ton. He tore his eyes away from her face and her tempting lips, only to glance at her hands while they toyed with her dress. Looking closely, he realized that the gloves she wore were inside out. He guessed, in her nervousness, that she had not looked closely when putting them on.

He rose from the blanket and strode towards where she stood at the edge of the gathering. She did not seem to have noticed him, her eyes scanning the group before her—in search of a familiar face, perhaps.

“Good afternoon, My Lady,” he murmured in her ear, causing her to jump with surprise.

“Your Grace,” she greeted him, her eyes flashing with something that closely resembled relief rather than excitement.

Richard couldn’t be sure because the expression disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, shuttered by her usual mask of indifference. His chest ached with disappointment. He yearned for the passionate Selina who had melted with desire in his arms.

“I had not expected to see you here,” she said coolly “You made it quite clear that you wished I stayed away from you. I assure you, Your Grace, I have learned my lesson well.”

Richard undertook most things in his life so thoroughly and carefully that they usually led to excellence. It was this predilection for excellence that had made him one of the leading voices in the House of Lords. He had never seen the need to resent that tendency until this moment, when it seemed he had done the work of pushing Selina away almost too well.

Gone was the shining warmth in her eyes. In its place was the cool indifference that hid her hurt and embarrassment following the events of the previous day. He was lucky she was still speaking to him, especially after the way he had dismissed her last night.

“I mean no offense, My Lady,” he said, keeping his voice as mellow and cajoling as he could manage. “I had just noticed a little wardrobe mishap on your person and only wished to call your attention to it.”

His announcement caused the indifferent mask to fall, replaced rapidly with panic, before she glanced at her dress from several angles in the hope of finding the offending part.

“Do not fret,” he said, suppressed laughter evident in his voice. “I assure you there is nothing wrong with your dress. The problem lies somewhere else.” He took her fingers, causing her to look down at her delicate hands in his larger one. “Your hands. You seem to be wearing the gloves inside out.”

When she pulled back her hands in her attempt to correct the mistake, he held fast, unwilling to release her.

“Let me,” he whispered, waiting till her hands fell limp before starting the task of pulling off the lacy gloves.

He took his time, making sure his fingers dragged over the smooth skin of her hands, enjoying the feel of the shiver that she seemed to be doing her best to suppress. The hitch in her breath fanned the fires of his ego till he was convinced that he stood taller than his considerable height.

Once her gloves were completely removed, he took advantage, making sure to hold onto her hand, the feel of her bare skin on his sending sparks down his spine.

It was ridiculous that just holding hands with this confounding woman could inspire the depth of desire that even the experienced courtesans he had known in his youth could not. It was unbelievable. He was just holding hands with her, for goodness’ sake. But what he had with Selina defied logic, and he had already given up on trying to understand.

Sliding the gloves back on after turning them the correct way was another lesson in torture, but in no time, it was done. Immediately, Selina withdrew her hands with such alacrity that one might think they were about to get burnt.

While he understood the reason for her reaction, it still did not sit well with him. Swallowing the offense to his pride, he plastered a welcoming smile on his face and offered her his arm.

“Perhaps you might allow me to lead you into the party, My Lady?” he said in his best charming voice.

For the next few seconds, Selina stared at his arm warily, before reluctantly accepting his hand. He led her into the event—attracting the attention of many gentlemen as they moved—before pulling her down to a sitting position when they got to his blanket.

While being the center of attraction seemed to be the wish of most of the young women of the ton, Richard was intrigued to see that Selina did not seem to be enjoying it. The attention seemed only to increase her nervousness, as she had taken to tugging on her skirt and playing with the hem while actively avoiding the gazes of interested gentlemen.

While her candor was attractive to him, he could not overlook the fact that she lacked the proper etiquette needed to navigate polite society. While her beautiful new dresses and natural beauty might have attracted the interest of many a gentleman, there was a chance that her lack of proper decorum might be the final hammer that shattered their interest in her.

It didn’t make logical sense that he found her attractive but her candor felt like a breath of fresh air in a society that was always pretentious.

A part of him was still hesitant about the idea of refining her when he so keenly admired the untouched honesty that bled into her deportment. It was part of what made her Selina—the unique woman who had so easily taken over his thoughts.

He watched her scratch a part of her dress and pull at it, almost like the material was irritating her skin. If it was, he would not have blamed her. The sequins that made up part of the sleeve were known to be scratchy sometimes—not that this would excuse such unrefined behavior from a lady.

He was sure she must have had some training on etiquette before she entered Society, but with everything that had happened around that period—her parent’s death, in combination with her natural character that made her a less desirable partner to the less-than-intelligent men of the ton—she had become something of a wallflower, relegated to the edges of the ballroom, content to watch other people dance.

Her etiquette lessons collected dust where she had shelved them among the less important things in her life.

To the untrained eye, she might have seemed content, but she was not. Occasionally, he noted the gleam in her eyes when she stared at a particular lovestruck couple and how long she stared at married couples who were notorious for their inability to keep their hands to themselves.

With time, it had become clear to him that the serious-looking Selina, with her refreshing political views, was, in fact, a romantic at heart.

That was the reason he had vowed to help her achieve her goal, even if it was the last thing he did. He fought the unholy urge to ravish her, captivated by the movement of her lips as she popped pieces of cake into her mouth. For the first time, he found himself envying a sweet dessert its place within the confines of her mouth.

For the rest of the picnic, he learned a lesson in torment, trying to keep his hands to himself while also keeping his mind from slipping into the gutter, as it was wont to whenever he was in her presence.

The picnic ended, and the guests started to step away, dispersing in different directions. He once again offered her his arm—any excuse to have her close to him again.

They walked to the house in silence, her expressive eyes admiring the scenery and the expansive grounds. He, on the other hand, was content to watch her, drinking in her features and every change in her expression as she admired the nature around her.

Just when they were a few feet away from the front doors, he leaned towards her, closing his eyes as he inhaled her unique scent.

“Come and see me later tonight at the library,” he said in a whisper. “It appears we have some crucial matters to discuss.”

He quite enjoyed the tiny shiver that ran through her as he spoke.

He still wore his smug smirk when she turned to look at him, her face a picture of surprise and curiosity. She had opened her mouth to ask him about his invitation, but she must have thought better of it, what with the number of people that moved around them and the possibility of any one of them overhearing her.

The wrong words in the wrong ears might guarantee that they would become the next topic for the gossips to use for entertainment at dinner.

Selina turned her head away, keeping her mouth shut. She might be impulsive at times, but she was also meticulous.

When the guests had retired to their bedrooms after dinner, Selina rose from her bed, where she had lain for the past few hours waiting for them to leave. She felt as though she had been forced to listen to their raucous laughter for what seemed like an eternity.

Standing up, she belted her robe over her nightdress, then pulled her coat over it, using its hood to further conceal her identity.

Opening her door as quietly as possible, she crept out. After making sure that there was nobody in the hallway, she crept forward, closing her door behind her as quietly as possible.

Descending the flight of stairs, she was a little taken aback to see that the hallways were so quiet—a contrast to how busy and noisy they were during the day.

Turning quickly on her heels, she headed down the hallway on her right, walking until she reached the fourth door. She could see slivers of light spilling out from beneath it, confirming that the room was occupied. Opening the door carefully, she peered in. Her eyes landed on Richard, who was leaning against one of the shelves and nursing a glass of brandy.

His eyes lit up with recognition and something akin to relief, as if he had feared she might not come. As if her curious mind would have allowed her to sleep before getting answers to her questions.

“Please come in, My Lady,” he said gently, spreading his arms wide in welcome.

She came in and hung her coat on the coat hanger at the door, and then she stood there in her night rail. When she turned around, it was to see Richard’s eyes burning down the length of her body. The night rail covered her to the tips of her dainty toes, but it might as well have been transparent with the way his gaze affected her.

When he noted her awareness of his open gawking, he looked away.

It was now Selina’s turn to stare at him. His evening coat and waistcoat were gone. He stood there with only his shirt on. He had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing muscular, capable forearms dusted with hair. His cravat was gone, and his shirt was unbuttoned to the second button. His hair was slightly tousled, like he had run his hands through it several times.

Overall, the man oozed an easy appeal. His mussed appearance in the dim light of the library was doing strange things to her equilibrium. If she wasn’t careful, she might end up in the same state she had been in the previous night—embarrassed, mortified, and aroused.

Taking charge of the situation, she cleared her throat. “Your Grace, you do not seem to have called me here to read,” she said with a pointed look at the glass of brandy in his large hands. “Perhaps you might be kind enough to tell me the important topic you wished to discuss?”

She kept her tone as formal as possible, remaining at the door, making no move to approach him even though every inch of her being wanted to be close to him.

Instead of taking offense at her stiff tone, his lips widened in a smirk.

“Do you care for a drink?” he asked, raising his glass in a mock salute.

“No, thank you, Your Grace,” she said, maintaining her frosty tone. Being in his presence scrambled her thoughts, and she did not want liquor to muddle her senses further. “I would much prefer to keep my wits about me.”

“Whatever you say, My Lady,” he said, pushing off the shelf and approaching her with slow, short steps.

She was tempted to take a step back, her senses recognizing the predatory intent that oozed off his larger frame.

She fought against it and maintained her stance. She would never allow him to know the true extent of the power he held over her.

Suddenly, he stopped by the desk just a few steps from her and deposited his glass there. He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her intensely, so much so that she almost squirmed under his gaze.

“You have done exceedingly well since we began our lessons, My Lady. But it seems I have neglected a core component. It is the leading ingredient that has the power of transforming you from an admirable lady to one that commands the room with her presence.”

“What might that be?” she asked warily.

“It is quite simple, My Lady,” he said, resuming his approach towards her.

He stopped right in front of her, and she looked up into the dark pools of his eyes.

“Etiquette.” He said the single word as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Stepping away from her, he turned back and paced the room.

“You, My Lady, are a beautiful woman, but it is the little things that might be keeping you from reaching your full potential. The way you stand, walk…”

“But there is nothing wrong with the way I walk.”

“You laugh too loudly. It is unbecoming of a young lady.”

“I’m sorry if my honest laughter offends you and those uptight people.”

“You mix up members of the ton.”

“I have never done that!”

“You were also tugging at your dress, which is very unrefined behavior.”

The sharp tone gave her pause. She realized with surprise that she was panting and that Richard’s breathing was also heavier than usual.

She did not understand what had brought about the argument. She just knew that his presence discomfited her, and when he started making disparaging remarks about her gait and manners, she felt a flare of irritation. She had held onto that anger to combat how helpless she felt in his presence.

Blowing out a breath through her lips, she tried to calm down enough to answer him without raising her voice in anger.

“Your Grace,” she began haltingly when she felt she was calm enough. “I only scratch and squeeze my dresses when I’m nervous. When I’m not, I usually keep my hands where they belong—folded in my lap.”

“Well,” he said in a patronizing tone that fanned her irritation back into flame, “you are in the eye of the ton now, dear Selina, and they certainly will not consider the possibility that your failure at etiquette was caused by a bout of nervousness. Take the way you stand, for instance.” He came to stand behind her, then gently pushed at her back and tilted her chin up so that she stood with her chest pushed forward and her head held high. “You have to command respect and give no chance for nervousness.”

“I do not have easy control over my emotions. I cannot simply decide not to be nervous,” she huffed.

“Well, you will learn to control them if you wish to achieve your goal.”

That commanding, authoritative tone he used to speak to her was the last cut in the tether of her self-control.

“I guess you know plenty about self-discipline,” she said coolly, not bothering to hide the sneer in her voice, “when you have only very recently lost yours and almost ravished an innocent. I do not think you have the right to speak so sanctimoniously on the subject of controlling one’s emotions.”

The silence that followed her challenge was deafening, and when she mustered the courage to look into Richard’s eyes, she regretted at once her decision to provoke him.

He was still, almost unnaturally so, his eyes filled with heat that spoke of his rage. She might have just pushed him too far, beyond what his self-restraint could handle.

While fear and anticipation warred in her chest, she was surprised to find that she was trembling in excitement.

She liked him best when he was out of control, the elemental male he kept hidden beneath his proper clothes and manners, free and running wild.

That thought confirmed to her that she was more unhinged than a proper young lady should be. But for the life of her, she did not care.

A red haze had descended over his vision, and he could feel his self-control slipping with every word that tumbled past Selina’s bewitching lips. Since the moment she had stepped into the library, he had felt a change in the atmosphere, the very air rearranging itself to accept her presence. His equilibrium was not left out, tilting on its axis immediately when he had caught her poking her head into the library.

The longer she stayed in the library, the more he felt his composure unraveling, so much so that he had started to castigate her.

He was well known in the House of Lords and among his peers for his skill in diplomacy. As a matter of fact, he had acted as a diplomat for the special office of England several times.

But when it came to Selina, his natural charm deserted him, and he found himself grasping at straws, throwing words at her, trying to provoke her—anything to prove to himself that he wasn’t the only one suffering from the madness that boiled in his blood whenever he saw her or thought of her.

Not one to disappoint, Selina had taken offense and had hit him where it was most painful, the wound still fresh. She had referred to his most recent indiscretion of almost ravishing her in the room where they stood.

It was more annoying because it was true and because he did not even feel remorseful about it. For the last twenty minutes, he had been fighting the urge to repeat it.

Perhaps it was fated that they were alone again with no hope for interruption by any of the other house guests.

Perhaps she had dreamt about it like he had done since the day before. Was that the reason why she had not tried to avoid temptation by avoiding being alone with him?

Perhaps she had breathed life into the topic—even though they had been actively avoiding it—because she wanted him and just could not help herself and was as helpless as he was.

Prowling towards her, he was impressed to see that she stood her ground, even though her body shivered and her eyes darted around with a mix of fear and excitement.

When he finally stood before her, he grabbed her waist, pulling her against his aroused body, enjoying the gasp that escaped her lips.

“Perhaps, My Lady, you have not truly seen me lose control, but I can guarantee that you are about to.”

“I would wager that I have,” she said in a hoarse voice.

“Selina, so help me…”

“I do not understand why you are so upset. I’m simply saying the truth…”

He shut her up the only way he knew how. Cupping her face in his hands, he claimed her lips in a passionate kiss. A moan of relief and enjoyment escaped his throat as he devoured the lips that had been a source of torture since the previous night.

He licked her lips, plunging his tongue inside when she gasped. The kiss caught fire then, sending heated sensations down his spine until he forgot who and where they were.

A part of his mind warned that he had let this happen, that he had repeated his mistake, but that tiny voice was drowned out by the strength of the sensations taking over his body and destroying his self-restraint in the process.

Selina might have seen him lose control, but tonight, she might have unleashed the bestial part of him, and she must bear the consequences of playing with fire.