The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

Then all was still, their harsh breathing the only audible sound in the room.

Pierce recovered first.

“Damn it,” he breathed, stunned by his unprecedented total lack of control. With what little strength he had left, he raised his head. “Snow flame—are you all right?”

Her eyes closed, Daphne smiled. “You tell me. Am I?”

Contentment, as unique as his passion, washed over Pierce in great, wondrous waves, and he rolled over on the cushions, taking Daphne with him. “No,”

he murmured, cradling her in his arms, “you’re not all right. You’re magnificent.”

“I return the compliment.” She nuzzled his throat. “Just as I suspected—heaven.”

Tenderness spawned guilt. “I intended to leave you before—”

“I didn’t intend to let you,” she interrupted, smiling against his damp skin. “It was too beautiful to experience alone. I wanted you with me.”

“I’ve never lost control like that,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “Hell, I couldn’t have left you if there had been a gun to my head.”

“You can lose control with me, Pierce,” she whispered. “I know it’s a risk you’ve never taken. But with me, there’s no risk at all. I’ll never hurt you.”

Pierce didn’t answer. The tensing of his muscles was Daphne’s only indication that he’d heard her.

“We should get some sleep,” he said at last. “Tomorrow we’ll go to Tragmore and collect your things.”

A tremor of fear shot through her. “We?”

“We.”

“But Father—”

“I’ll deal with your father.” He reached over, seizing his coat and draping its woolen warmth around them. “But I won’t leave you here as ready prey for his venom. At least at Tragmore, I’ll be beside you, should he attack. And trust me, Daphne,” Pierce’s mouth thinned into a grim line, “the marquis won’t overstep his bounds with me.”

“He’s terrified of you.”

“He should be. I own him.”

Daphne blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means that his outstanding notes far exceed his wealth. It means that every asset he owns belongs to the holder of those notes, which, as luck would have it, happens to be me.” Pierce’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It means that I’m the spider and he the fly.”

“Of course.” Daphne nodded, realization illuminating her face. “That would explain everything: Father’s monetary worries, his rigidity with the staff, and his utter dread and hatred of you. Do you plan to ruin him?” She sounded more curious than concerned.

“Would you care?”

“That depends on how you do it. And why.”

“Witnessing his mistreatment of you today—that in itself would have been reason enough.”

That look of wonder returned to Daphne’s eyes. “I never imagined I could feel so safe, or that anyone would care enough about me to ensure that I was.”

Pierce tangled his hands in her hair, brushing her lips tenderly with his. “As I said, Snow flame, no one will ever hurt you again.” He looked away, his laugh self-deprecating. “That’s a ludicrous statement, coming from me, isn’t it? Considering I myself just hurt you not ten minutes past.”

“No, you didn’t. You evoked sensations within me too glorious to describe. If a split second of pain was the prelude to that splendor, it was a small price to pay.”

The tenderness reappeared on Pierce’s face. “Next time, I’ll prolong your pleasure, make it better for you. I promise.”

“It couldn’t be any better.” She wrapped her arms about his neck. “But, speaking of promises, I distinctly recall your vowing to teach me how to please you. Also something about making love to me until neither of us could breathe.” Her smile was radiant. “Well, so far as I can see, we’re both still breathing, are we not?”