If the Duke Demands Read online

  Oh. My. Goodness.

  He stalked slowly toward the bed, reminding her of the graceful panther his papier-mâché mask proclaimed him to be. He stopped at the foot of the giant four-poster bed, and his gaze heated as he stared down at her through the soft shadows.

  “Well, then,” he drawled in a voice so low that it was almost a whisper and one as deep as the darkness surrounding them. “What have we here?”

  She drew a breath for courage. “I saw you at the masquerade tonight.” Her nervousness made her own voice far huskier than she intended. Thank God. She had to carry off this seduction tonight. She simply had to! “And I wanted time with you.” She paused for emphasis. “Alone.”

  He smiled at that. “You weren’t at my mother’s party.” With a slow shrug of his broad shoulders, he slipped off his black evening jacket and tossed it over the chair in front of the fireplace. “I would have remembered you.”

  Miranda nearly scoffed at that. He would have remembered her? From among the two hundred other females of all ages crammed into Chestnut Hill’s ballroom for the Duchess of Trent’s birthday? Hardly!

  From behind his mask, his eyes drifted over the dress, and heat prickled across her skin.

  Well…maybe he would have remembered if she’d been wearing the same flimsy crêpe dress currently draped over her rather than the costume in which she’d arrived. A clinging, sleeveless rose-colored gauze creation with matching mask, this dress had cost her a small fortune from months of saved-up pin money and her salary from the orphanage. It had also required several secret trips to Helmsworth to visit the dressmaker there, whom she’d hired so that no one in Islingham would suspect what she was up to. But all the subterfuge was worth it, because the whole effect turned her body into a long-stemmed rose. Instead of this, though, she’d been announced to the party at the beginning of the evening wearing the pumpkin costume that her auntie had made for her, complete with a stem sticking out of her hat, and Robert hadn’t given her a second glance all evening.

  But he certainly noticed her now as she reclined across his bed, her back propped up by a pile of pillows and the hem of her skirt scandalously revealing her legs from the knees down. Bare legs, too, because she couldn’t afford to purchase the lace stockings that matched the dress.

  “Perhaps you didn’t notice me because I was dancing with other men,” she offered coyly. Tonight, her mask made her bold and free to say flirtatious things she never would have had the courage to utter otherwise. “But I’d much rather have been dancing with you.”

  She saw his hand freeze for just a heartbeat as he reached for his cravat. “Then the loss was definitely mine.” His eyes trailed from her low neckline down her body, across the curves of her hips, and over her legs. “And your name, my lady?”

  Her heart jumped into her throat. Oh no, she couldn’t tell him that—not yet! She’d worn the mask and costume purposefully so that he would see this other side of her before he dismissed her outright. So that he would have an opportunity to see her through new eyes, to look upon her as a woman instead of the girl he’d always known. If she revealed her identity so soon, he’d never see her as anything more than a friend.

  So she whispered, “Rose.”

  He untied his black cravat and tossed it away. “Lady Rose,” he murmured. Knowing amusement touched his sensuous mouth at her completely fabricated answer. “Is that why you’re in my room, then?” His sapphire eyes stirred heat beneath her skin everywhere he looked. And dear heavens, he was looking everywhere! “Because you want to dance with me?”

  Dance. The word shivered down her spine as she watched him slip free each button of his black waistcoat. They both knew he didn’t mean waltzing.

  Electric tingles of excitement raced through her. This was it. The moment that would bring her the man she’d loved. The moment when her life would change forever…

  She drew a shaky breath. “Yes.” The word came out as a husky rasp. “Very much.”

  His full lips tugged into a seductive smile, and he slipped off his waistcoat, then dropped it to the floor. The muscles of his arms and shoulders rippled beneath his black shirt as he reached up to unfasten the half dozen buttons at his neck, the firelight playing across his golden blond hair and his handsome face still hidden behind the mask. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs when he tugged his shirttail free from his black breeches to let it hang loose around his waist.

  He was undressing. And not for sleep. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

  When she remembered again, her breath came in a soft sigh. Which caused his blue eyes to darken with quick arousal as he took the sound as an invitation to…to—

  She swallowed again. Very hard.

  Well, that was why she was lying on his bed, for goodness’ sake. To be ravished. But heavens, she was nervous! Trying to hide the trembling in her hands and be the seductress he would want, she ran her palms up and down her thighs, each stroke upward pulling the crêpe material with it until her legs were bare to her thighs. His eyes keenly followed every caress she gave herself. Because of the mask, she couldn’t see whatever other emotions might be flickering across his face, but she could see his eyes and mouth, and those both struck her as intense. Predatory. Aroused.

  Goodness.

  He reached up to remove his mask—

  “No!” she gasped.

  He froze at her outburst. Then curiously tilted his head as if he’d misconstrued her meaning.

  But he’d understood perfectly. She couldn’t let him remove his mask. If he did, then he’d expect her to remove hers—oh, she wasn’t ready for that! Not until she was certain that she’d made him want her as much as she wanted him, and somehow not just for tonight but always.

  “The masquerade was so much fun,” she explained quickly, silently praying that he’d believe her, “that I should hate for it to end so soon.”

  “It won’t.” He stole a wandering glance down her body. A heated promise lingered in that sultry look.

  “Please don’t remove your mask, not yet.” Then she added as enticingly as possible, “My Lord Panther.”

  He inclined his head toward her in a gentlemanly nod.

  A thrill raced through her. Robert had never shown her such deference before. Of course, though, he didn’t know that it was her in this costume, she thought with a twinge of chagrin. But he would soon, and then everything between them would change.

  “As you wish, Lady Rose.” Another heated smile, this time as he stepped forward to lean his shoulder against the bedpost and stare unapologetically at her body. “Your costume is quite beautiful.”

  “Do you like it?” She raised her hand to her neckline again, drawing his attention back to her breasts as she arched her back in an attempt to make them appear as full as possible.

  “Very much,” he murmured appreciatively.

  “Good.” Her trembling fingers trailed up to her shoulder and to the satin bow holding the bodice in place. “Because I wore it just for you.”

  He parted his lips as if to say something, but she pulled loose the ribbon in a seductive move she’d practiced all afternoon. The shoulder of her dress fell down, nearly baring her right breast. He fixed a hungry stare on her, whatever he was about to say lost forever.

  With a sound that was half groan, half growl, he grabbed his shirt and yanked it off over his head, then started forward, crawling up the bed toward her on hands and knees. Very much a panther stalking forward to claim its prey.

  Her eyes widened, and she slowly sank down onto her back as he crawled up the length of her, trapping her between his hands and knees. She certainly hadn’t expected this! Or the way he lowered his head to lick his tongue across her bare shoulder, as if he were tasting her before deciding whether to toy with her a while longer or devour her whole.

  “Mmm,” he purred against her flesh as his mouth moved to her neck, where she was certain he could feel her pulse pounding beneath his lips. “Perhaps it’s good that I didn’t notice you at
the party after all.”

  “Why is that?” She shivered as his teeth nipped at her throat, unprepared for the pulse of heat that shot straight down to her toes. This was nothing like the kiss he’d given her all those years ago.

  “I would have embarrassed myself in the middle of the ballroom trying to get to you.” He traced his fingertip over her bare shoulder, drawing invisible patterns across her skin and down toward the swell of her breast. “We would have danced, I’d have made certain of it.”

  His finger dipped under the edge of her dress and, finding no stays nor shift to impede him, grazed seductively over her nipple still hidden beneath. She gasped, and he smiled delightedly at her response. Apparently he had decided to toy with her after all.

  Then he slipped his hand completely beneath the gauzy bodice to cup her bare breast. “So we’ll dance now,” he murmured.

  Heat radiated into her from his large hand as he gently massaged her, and she wiggled beneath his touch, suddenly unable to lie still as she bit back a moan of happiness. She’d dreamt for years about having his hands on her like this, touching her, caressing her…but she’d never once imagined it would feel so warm and wonderful. So soft yet urgent.

  “Lovely dress.” Shifting his weight back onto his knees, he reached his free hand toward her other shoulder and deftly untied the bow. With a tug, her bodice fell away and revealed both breasts to the firelight. And to his eyes, now dark with desire as he gazed hungrily down at her. “So very lovely.”

  Despite the goose bumps that sprang up across her skin everywhere he looked, she resisted the nervous urge to cover herself. This was Robert, and he, of all people, had the right to see her. Because she’d known him since she was five. Because she loved him. Because she wanted no one else but him to ever see her like this, tonight and for the rest of her life.

  She shyly bit her bottom lip. “You don’t find me…plain?”

  He gave a laugh, and the deep sound rumbled through her, swirling down to land between her legs. He lowered his head toward her. “Hardly.”

  Her breath strangled. For a moment, she thought he was lowering his mouth to kiss her…there, on her bare breasts. Instead, his fingers gently lifted her chin, and his lips met hers in a kiss so tender that it left her shaking. His mouth was warm, surprisingly soft, and oh-so-wonderfully skilled as he languidly explored and tasted hers, with none of the boyish eagerness she remembered from before, none of that sloppy, inexperienced kissing. This was a man who was confident in himself and knew what he wanted.

  And what he wanted—she shivered—was her.

  “You’re trembling.” He touched the tip of his tongue to the corner of her lips.

  She shook so hard that she had to grasp the coverlet beneath her to hold herself still. “I-I’m n-not.”

  “Now you’re lying,” he scolded, smiling against her mouth.

  He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, and as he bit down gently, he lowered himself over her.

  No, she thought as his hard body sank onto hers, definitely nothing boyish about him any longer.

  “What else can I do to make you tremble, hmm?” His hand reached down for her skirt and pulled it slowly up her thighs. The promised shivers trailed in its wake.

  Miranda rolled back her head and gave herself over to him. She’d wanted this moment for so long, and now that it was finally happening—oh, dear Lord, it was happening! She could hardly believe it wasn’t still only a dream. Robert in her arms, his lips on hers, his hands caressing her seductively. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear the rush of blood in her ears, so rapidly she was certain he could feel it, because when she placed her palm on his bare chest, his heart raced beneath her fingertips.

  He nipped his way down her throat, then farther down to lick his tongue into the valley between her breasts. When she shuddered and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer, his lips closed around her peaked nipple and sucked.

  She moaned, her back arching off the mattress. “Robert…”

  He froze, his mouth stilling on her. Then slowly, he released her breast and lifted his head. His blue eyes pinned hers. “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything. I just—”

  “Christ!” He pushed off the panther mask and revealed his face.

  Oh God.

  The air ripped from her lungs. “Sebastian.”

  Oh God oh God oh God oh God!

  “Who are you?” Sebastian Carlisle grabbed her mask and yanked it down. His eyes widened in stunned surprise. “Miranda?”

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe— Oh, he was looking at her! Red heat flushed her face, and she slapped hard at his bare chest. “Get off me! Get off—”

  His hand clamped down over her mouth. “Shush!” Anger furrowed his brow. “Someone will hear you.”

  “I don’t care!” she mumbled against his palm.

  “You will if they find us together”—another sweep of his gaze down her body—“like this.”

  With a mortified groan, she rolled her eyes. She wanted to die!

  He crooked a brow in warning to keep her voice down, then withdrew his hand and rolled off the bed, muttering angrily beneath his breath as he snatched up his shirt from the floor and yanked it on.

  Miranda scrambled to cover herself, but her fingers shook so hard that she could barely retie the bows at her shoulders. One knotted pathetically.

  He wheeled on her. “What are you doing here, Miranda?”

  “Me?” she squeaked, her hand jerking and creating another knot. “What are you doing in Robert’s room? You’d better dress and leave before he—”

  “This is my room.” He pointed possessively at the floor.

  “Your— No,” she protested firmly even as she took a frantic glance around, although she wouldn’t have known the difference between any of the brothers’ bedrooms at Chestnut Hill. But this was Robert’s, she was certain of it, along with the toy soldiers and poetry books. “I asked the footman. He told me this room.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You asked a footman which bedroom belonged to Robert?”

  “I was discreet.” She sniffed at his insinuation that she’d been reckless enough to confide her plan for seduction to a footman. If a woman planned to drape herself across a would-be-lover’s bed, she certainly wouldn’t announce it to the household staff. Even she knew that much. “And I wore a mask.”

  He placed his palms on the mattress and leaned toward her, bringing his face level with hers. “Exactly how does a masked lady go about asking a footman which bedroom belongs to a bachelor gentleman?”

  Ugh, he was so frustrating! She pushed at his shoulders to shove him away, but of course he didn’t budge. The man was a veritable mountain of muscle and aggravation.

  With a huff, she folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin. “Wearing her mask, she goes to a footman at the party, slips him a coin, and points to the gentleman in his mask, then asks in complete anonymity which room is—”

  He held up a hand, stopping her. “If the gentleman was wearing a mask, how did you know which man you pointed to?”

  “Because I bribed Robert’s valet yesterday to find out what mask he’d…” The blood drained from her face as she realized her mistake. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.” With a grimace, he tossed the panther mask onto the bed at her feet. “We switched masks before the party. The man you pointed to tonight, Miranda, was me.”

  Her stomach plummeted. “Sebastian, I had no idea.”

  “Obviously.” He drew up to his full six-foot height and looked down at her with that authoritative look that all the Carlisle brothers—and especially Sebastian—thought they could level on her simply because they’d all grown up together. “Now, we’ve determined how you ended up here.” He folded his arms across his chest, the intimidating pose one she knew well. “Tell me why.”

  But she had absolutely no intention of telling him that. Wasn’t she already humiliated enough? “It doesn’t matter
. I—I need to leave.”

  She scooted to the edge of the bed, her hands tugging at her skirt with each wiggle of her hips to keep her legs covered, although she didn’t know why she bothered, considering he’d just had his mouth on her breast.

  Her face burned. Oh God—Sebastian’s mouth had been on her breast!

  “Now—” Her voice choked with panic and mortification. “I need to go now.”

  “Stay,” he commanded with that regal air all three brothers had inherited in varying degrees from their father and which Sebastian as the current Duke of Trent owned in spades.

  She stilled at the edge of the bed, silent in her humiliation.

  “You expected Robert to come to his room and find you lying in his bed, dressed like that.” His blue eyes flashed with incredulity. “Are you and he…” At least he had the decency to look away as he stumbled over the accusation. “Intimate?”

  “No!” She blinked back the stinging tears. Her humiliation had reached new heights now, never mind the fact that intimacy with Robert was exactly what she’d hoped for tonight.

  “Then why were you waiting in bed for him?” he pressed.

  With a groan, she hung her head in her hands. All she’d wanted was a simple seduction, but her dream had become a nightmare. “Oh, what does it matter?”

  He arched a brow. “Because he’s my brother, and I care about him.” His voice softened. “And about you.”

  Ha! She didn’t believe that for a second. The oldest of the three Carlisle brothers, Sebastian was the one she knew the least well yet the one who had annoyed her the most, probably because he was a decade older than she was and impatient with the games she and his siblings had played. He’d been fifteen when she arrived at Islingham, already enrolled at Eton and so away most of the time. Even on those rare visits home on holiday, he’d been too interested in spending time with his father and learning about the estate to be anything more than distantly friendly to her. By the time he’d reached university, he was more concerned with chasing women and having a good time with his brothers carrying out whatever wild scheme they could concoct than whatever was happening in Islingham. And the wilder, the better.