Darian Hunter: Duke of Desire (Dangerous Dukes 3)

Colour warmed Mariah’s cheeks and she was unsure whether it was from embarrassment at the intimacy of their conversation, or jealousy, because Darian must have intimate knowledge of other women’s desire to be so well informed. ‘This is neither the time nor the place for—’

‘Will it ever be, Mariah?’ he bit out scathingly. ‘Will you ever be willing to give yourself to me?’

Mariah drew her breath in sharply even as a bite of longing twisted almost painfully between her thighs. What would it be like to give herself to this man? Not just any man, but to Darian Hunter, the Duke of Wolfingham?

Nothing like that horrendous single experience with Martin, she was sure. Even in her limited experience, she knew Darian had already demonstrated that he was a generous and attentive lover, with more of an interest in ensuring his partner’s pleasure than taking his own.

Could she give herself to this man? Could she let down her guard, her inhibitions, and open herself up to such intimacy? Such vulnerability?

She was starting to believe, that with Darian Hunter, she just might be able to do so…

She straightened her shoulders as she made her decision. ‘Perhaps,’ she allowed gruffly.

Darian’s eyes widened as he barely heard Mariah’s softly spoken reply. He had feared the worst minutes ago, as Mariah’s eyes once again took on that look of distance, as if she were no longer quite here with him in this room, but somewhere else entirely. Lost in memories, perhaps? Some of them unpleasant ones, if he had read her expression correctly.

Of her husband? Or some other man she had been involved with during her marriage or since?

Darian’s ire rose just at the thought of a man, any man, ever having hurt her, in any way.

‘Mariah?’ He sat down in the chair beside her before taking one of her hands in both of his. Instantly becoming aware of the trembling of her fingers beneath delicate lace gloves—evidence that those thoughts had indeed been unhappy ones? Whatever the reason, he felt heartened by the fact that she did not instantly pull her hand away from his.

‘Do you think we could please get out of this oppressive house, if only for a few hours?’

She blinked long lashes. ‘I ordered fresh coffee.’

‘I am sure that Benson is an understanding fellow. He would have to be to suffer working for the Nicholses!’ Darian grimaced.

‘Ah, Benson.’ The butler appeared in the room almost as if he had been cued to do so. ‘The countess and I have decided to go for a walk in the grounds this morning—do you recommend any direction in particular?’

The butler poured fresh coffee into their cups as he answered, his face as expressionless as ever. ‘I believe most of her ladyship’s guests find Aphrodite’s Temple of interest, your Grace.’

‘Aphrodite’s Temple?’ Darian repeated doubtfully; if he remembered his Greek mythology correctly, from his years spent at Eton, Aphrodite had been the goddess of love, beauty and sexuality, but better known as being a goddess who indulged her own selfish sexual desires and lust.

Totally suited to the Nicholses’ lifestyle, of course, but not necessarily Darian’s own.

‘It is Lady Nichols’s name for it, your Grace.’ Benson seemed to guess some of his thoughts, his expression still stoic and unrevealing. ‘It is situated amongst the trees to the left of the lake at the back of the house.’

‘Mariah?’ Darian turned to prompt, aware that she had not taken part in the conversation as yet. But still Darian felt heartened by the fact that she had allowed her hand to remain in both of his.

She looked up at the butler. ‘It sounds…intriguing, Benson.’

She dutifully picked up her cup with her other hand and drank some of the coffee.

The butler nodded. ‘And it is always deserted during the day.’

Darian narrowed his eyes. ‘But not in the evenings?’

‘Not this evening, certainly, your Grace.’

To say Darian was intrigued would be putting it mildly. Although, bearing in mind the sexual games the Nicholses liked to play, he could well imagine that Aphrodite’s Temple might prove a little too much for what he now believed to be Mariah’s sensibilities. She was much more easily shocked than he might ever have imagined, or hoped for, before spending so much time in her company.

She had become, in fact, the most intriguing woman he had ever met. And was becoming more so rather than less, the more time he spent in her company. It was a certainty he had never been in the least bored when with her.

‘Thank you, Benson.’ Mariah smiled up at the butler warmly. ‘Perhaps you might ask my maid to bring down my pelisse and bonnet from my bedchamber?’

‘Of course, my lady.’ He bowed.

The silence in the breakfast room seemed charged once the butler had left the two of them alone there. Almost as if the very air itself was waiting expectantly.