To Desire a Wicked Duke (Courtship Wars 6)

Ian must have sensed her dismay, for he lifted his head to examine her face intently. When her silence dragged on, his expression clouded.

Belatedly, Tess attempted to conceal her feelings. “It was only natural for me to worry about your fate this evening,” she claimed, averting her gaze as she shaded the truth. “I was accustomed to fretting about Richard constantly. I spent two years wondering if he would come home from the war in one piece. No doubt I reacted tonight out of simple habit.”

It was the wrong thing to say, judging from the way Ian’s body stiffened.

“How charming,” he observed in a mocking tone, “to know that you are dwelling on your late betrothed while your husband is still inside you.”

Tess bit her lip, realizing that she had angered him.

Yet Ian gave her no chance to express regret for her callous choice of words. His face was irritated and frowning when he added cuttingly, “You can always close your eyes and pretend that I am Richard making love to you.”

She couldn’t pretend any such thing, Tess thought, feeling a fresh wave of despair. She’d never been intimate with Richard, but if she had, her body would certainly have known the difference between the two men. Ian fulfilled her needs as a woman. He gave her the wild passion she had always dreamed of, completing her in a way, she now realized, Richard never could have done.

This time, however, her silence had an even stronger effect on Ian. His gaze turned hard and cold.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of her body and eased Tess to her feet, then abruptly turned away.

Feeling the aching emptiness of his withdrawal, she wanted to reach out to him and pull him back into her arms. Instead, she leaned weakly against the wall behind her for support.

It shook her to realize the distressing truth: She wouldn’t want Richard in her bed even if she could have had him. She only wanted Ian.

Tess shut her eyes, feeling a terrible guilt even while acknowledging the danger she was in. Her desire for Ian frightened her. If she was this feverish for him, he would burn her to cinders. He was a man who had never been in love, who had never wanted to love anyone, particularly not a woman he had long disdained and had been forced to wed.

She heard him mutter a low oath as he began to undress. Tossing his coat on a chair, Ian shot her a dark glance. “I realize you’ve enshrined your saintly Richard in your memories, but someday you will have to accept that he is gone and move beyond him.”

Tess swallowed, knowing she had to apologize for giving him the wrong impression earlier. “I am sorry, Ian. I did not mean to imply that I was only thinking of Richard. Of course I care what happens to you—”

He waved a hand to cut her off. “It hardly matters. Do you mean to remain up all night?” he demanded, his tone impatient and commanding. “If not, you should go to bed. I would like to sleep for a few hours. I have to travel to Falmouth early tomorrow morning to lay charges against Banks and his fellow thieves.”

Tess felt her own body stiffen, but she raised her chin, refusing to be cowed by Ian’s anger. Perhaps his harsh reaction was for the best, for she could use the acrimony simmering between them in order to protect herself.

Pushing away from the wall, she went to the washbasin to clean herself of his seed wetting her inner thighs. Then Tess crossed to the bed and climbed in. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she managed to keep her tone surprisingly even when she spoke.

“Since you will be away tomorrow, could we discuss our immediate future? For several reasons, I would prefer to return to London as soon as possible. Ned needs better care, for one thing, and I know of a brilliant physician in London who understands the special needs of veterans. And Fanny is eager to return, since she must sever her relations with her past life before she can wed Basil. Moreover, I should begin planning my next charity event soon. It will be another musical evening, and there are a thousand details to see to if it is to be successful.”

“Very well,” Ian said tersely as he shed the last of his clothing.

“What does that mean?” Tess asked.

“I agree, you should return to London. In fact, you should go tomorrow—and take Eddowes with you. My library has been fully cataloged, so we no longer need to maintain the pretense of him being needed here. You don’t require me to accompany you, I presume? I have served my purpose, playing matchmaker for your friends.”

At Ian’s icy proclamation, Tess made no reply, telling herself she was grateful that he wouldn’t protest her abrupt departure. In all likelihood, she had imagined the hint of bitterness in his voice when he’d pointed out that his usefulness was at an end.

Moments later, he extinguished the lamps and joined her in bed. Yet he didn’t draw her into his arms, as was his recent habit. Instead, he gave her his back.

Tess also rolled onto her side, away from him, glad for the space that separated them. The darkness that fell over the bedchamber was relieved only

by the faint glow of the hearth fire. Rather than close her eyes, however, she watched the flickering shadows made by the flames.

She still felt greatly shaken to realize she couldn’t control her desire for Ian. She’d wanted to believe the hunger that had befallen her was merely a weakness of the body, an obsession of the mind. But she had been deceiving herself.

What she was feeling was a frailty of the heart.

Fanny was wrong for thinking that passion wouldn’t lead to more tender emotions, Tess now knew. She couldn’t simply cut off her feelings for Ian. It was too late to hope she could remain unscathed.

He was a demanding, alluring, dangerous lover who made her feel things for him that she’d never felt for Richard … which only increased her burden of guilt.

As she lay there staring at the wall, Tess flinched to realize another bitter truth.