He was going to leave tomorrow. Finally, he would be free of the madness that his Duchess reduced him to.

Why did the thought of leaving not bring the thrum of anticipation that it ought to?

It must have been because the physician had advised him against returning to London in order to not burden his lungs, which had led him to decide to go to Hertfordshire instead. He cast a lazy look about the dressing room as he ran a drying cloth through his wet hair and allowed himself a private smile as his eyes roamed over his wife's side of the room. Her dressing table was set immaculately, lined with perfumes and scented lotions, and other toiletries he did not recognize. For her professed discomfort with finery, his wife certainly enjoyed her private luxuries. And somehow, it seemed far more refined than the gauche way women in London paraded their jewels around balls and parties in a competition of who had more wealth. Strange how he had never noticed that before.

A knock sounded at the door, expecting his valet to enter with freshly pressed clothes, he called out. 'Enter.'

Except, it was not the door to his own chambers that opened.

'Benedict, there is a disaster of biblical- Dear Heavens, you are nude!'

He whipped his head towards the door that led to his wife's chambers only to find her looking at him in open-mouthed shock. Her eyes roamed a path from his head, down to his torso, and then further down, to the rest of him that was covered with a large drying cloth tied around his waist. He felt heat climb up his neck as he felt a little self-consciousness stir. He had not been getting the same amount of exercise as he used to in university, where he fenced and boxed regularly, as a result, his stomach had gone a little soft. He wanted her to find him attractive, he realized, much to his own bafflement. He was not the vain sort that required affirmation from others. He felt his body stir with arousal at her unabashed perusal.

When her gaze finally found his, he realized his worrying had been for naught. Her eyes blazed with desire, plain as day. And it was enough to spark his own blood into a frenzy.

He knew that he should leave well enough alone. Knew that moving forward was a mistake.

And yet....when did he ever have the upper hand on her? He would be a fool to give up his one shot at revenge after having been at her mercy for the entirety of his stay. She may have been adept at mischief, but he knew sex. How to tease, how to bring a lover to the edge of madness, whether to give or withhold pleasure. Didn't he deserve a bit of retribution? It was not like he would let anything happen, he was in full control of himself. He stalked closer to her, walking until she began to back away. A flush colored her face and neck, and he wondered how far down it really went. Her back hit the wall, her gaze darting between his mouth and his eyes. He looked for any sign that she was uncomfortable, that she did not want him to continue. She need only tell him to stop.

He settled his palm against the wall next to her head and leaned in until their noses were an inch apart, her breath fanned his lips.

'What is the matter, wife? Come to proposition me again?' He grinned as she tipped her face up in an unintentional invitation, her sapphire eyes dark with her arousal. He let his eyes take a slow, deliberate trip down to her berry pink lips, which obligingly parted at his attention. He looked lower still to see her nipples peaked into delightful buds against the muslin of her green day gown.

Oh, she wanted him alright.

'Proposition you? Again?!' She cried out in indignant outrage. 'If anything, sir! It is you who propositioned me at the orphanage!'

'Then why do you blush, Duchess?'

'Oh, you!' She huffed in adorable frustration. 'It is only because you are rather...ahem, naked. And,' She brought up her hands to pat the width of his shoulders. 'rather large.'

His grin widened. 'Think me large, do you?'

She let out a scandalized gasp, but did not avert her gaze. 'That is not what I was talking about! Surely you who scold me about propriety at every opportunity would find something in-inappropriate about t-this!'

Her tongue darted out and she licked her lips in a gesture that seemed infinitely erotic, though in the moment almost anything she could have done would have had a similar effect on him. He felt himself go hot all over.

The wavering of her words reflected the wavering of her resolve. Benedict would not be so remiss as to press his advantage. He felt the unmistakable haze of lust begin to cloud his thinking, but not to worry, he was completely in control. What was the reason he shouldn't strip her down and make love to her until they were both mindless with pleasure?

Oh yes, he didn't like her.... Or something like that. Wasn't that it?

'Ah, ah. But aren't you the one who decided we ought to be comfortable with one another since we have slept together?'

'Well! I hardly-! You cannot possibly-! That is to say!' She sputtered and then conceded. 'I have no defense. And I can hardly concentrate with you- you baring those magnificent shoulders as you are! Why, you're no b-better than a doxy displaying her charms at the side of the street!'

'Magnificent? I'm rather proud of them myself.' His cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling, unused to the expression as they were. He would ignore the unflattering comparison to a prostitute for now. 'It's nothing you haven't seen before.'

'Y-you turned the lamps out on our wedding night.'

'I deprived myself of the undoubtedly superb sight of you naked? Shame.'

He would have to correct that folly, he thought through his daze.

'Benedict!' She squeaked as he ran his free hand down the column of her neck and then arched into his touch as he brought it lower and lower still until his fingers stroked across a peaked nipple through the fabric of her bodice. She let out a throaty little moan that traveled through his frenzied blood and straight to his already hardening length. She moved into his touch as if she craved it as badly as he was aching for her in that moment. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger and was rewarded by a shudder that wracked through her.

'Oh! Yes, Ben!' She cried, and he enjoyed the sound of his shortened name on her tongue.

He had been incredibly remiss to have drunk away the one night he'd had her in his bed. There was a reason for that, he was sure, he just couldn't remember it right now.

'Touch me.' Was that an invitation or a request that had just left his mouth on a ragged groan? He felt the reigns of control slipping, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Her soft palms came to roam his shoulders, his chest as his body responded to her touch. Though she kept her hands above his torso, other parts of him were entirely too eager for her touch. Indeed, beneath his drying cloth, his cock was putting on quite an impressive show. 'Go lower, don't be shy, love. Oh, please I need you to touch me.'

How had his voice come out so steadily when all his senses were in a riot? He couldn't remember ever being so mad for anyone.

'I want to. But, I don't know if that is such a good idea.' She admitted on a shaky breath, even as her fingers slipped a slow torturous path down his chest, to his navel.

'Why not?'

'We don't like each other all that much.'

A deeply satisfied rumble left him as she finally reached the top of the drying cloth wrapped around his waist. 'Sometimes that makes it even better, love.'

And then when she cupped him through the cloth, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Whatever hold he had held on his sanity evaporated. He let out a horrible, filthy curse that he would be ashamed of later, curled his fingers around her nape, and claimed her mouth in a ravenous, searing kiss. It was an inevitability, really. They had been skirting around this for ages.

Her kiss felt like a homecoming, her delicate flavor a fucking delicacy.

Mine. Something primal and dark in him roared with pride. He wanted to mark her, claim his ownership completely and utterly. Until there was not a doubt in her mind that she was his.

Why hadn't he kissed her sooner? What was the reason? He was sure he had one, he just couldn't remember it. Right now, she sighed against him and settled into his embrace with a feminine grace that drove him mad. He couldn't remember when in his life he had been this hard, or this desperate for a woman. And yet, he could not summon enough of his mind to be adequately concerned. All he knew what that she had titled her head to deepen the kiss and he was hopelessly, irrevocably lost.

He was wicked. He was more wicked than Satan, tempting her with his body and his touches that sent fire shooting from her skin to her very core. Between her thighs, she felt the undeniable slickness that heralded her arousal. When his lips coaxed hers to part and allow his tongue entry, it did not even occur to her to refuse him. He slipped in and plundered her as she was helpless to do anything but moan and make pathetic sounds that showed just how thoroughly he had her in his thrall. She had been right, he had tasted of brandy and something uniquely him and she was beginning to worry she might never get enough. His hands slowly untied the laces that held her bodice up, until it was slipping off her shoulders. Then he roamed lower to fill his hands with her bottom as he pulled her flush against his body. He ground himself against her as she let out a gasp. She felt every impressive inch of his manhood against the soft swell of her stomach. She went weak in the knees.

Well, no wonder her wedding night had been unpleasant! Imagine losing your virginity to....that!

'Fuck, woman.' He hissed, and the vulgar word on his prim and proper mouth only notched her pleasure higher. She arched against him, desperate for release. She was moments away from begging him to toss up her skirts. She needed him, his fingers, his mouth, anything. Anything to soothe the insistent throbbing between her legs.

'What are you doing to me?' She gasped as his mouth left hers and sought her neck. The skin there was so sensitive that the gentle graze of his teeth made her cry out. When he reached the base where her collar met her neck, the place where her wild pulse thrummed against heated skin, he bit down. She jerked against him in surprise and ecstasy as he smoothed the ache with gentle kisses and languid licks.

'Nothing you haven't done to me ten times over.' He rumbled. 'For the next week, whenever you put on those prim high-necked gowns to hide this little bruise, know who gave it to you.'

Oh? If that was how they were going to play it.

She twined her hands into the curls of his lovely dark hair and gave him a matching one on his throat. 'And when you tie your bloody cravat around your neck, like a proper fucking Duke, think of me. Think of me until you have no choice but to touch yourself.'

Were those her words? Or had she, too, become possessed by the heady lust of the moment? Her own wickedness rising in answer to his?

He swore again, and damn if she didn't love it when he lost his good sense. He lifted her easily and deposited her on the settee she had brought in so it would be easier for him to change with his injury. She lay on her back as he settled between her thighs, which had parted to accommodate him. Bring him closer to where she was empty and aching.

'You are going to make me disgrace myself like a school youth with his first woman.' He gathered her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. With the other hand, he lowered her bodice until her breasts were bared, his mouth closing in on her sensitive nipple. He sucked and licked until she was almost sobbing with the pleasure of it. An just went she could no longer bear it, he stopped and turned his attention to the other.

'So sensitive, my poor Duchess. Does it ache?' He thrust his hips into hers in an unsatisfying imitation of what they both needed. They both groaned at the teasing friction when their bodies met, despite the layers of cloth that separated them.

'Ben, we shouldn't. I can't.' And Lord as their witness, he stopped immediately. And damn if that didn't make her heart swell with adoration. And that was precisely why she couldn't let things reach their natural conclusion. It could never be just sex to her, coupling was always a tender and emotional experience for her, one that required her to trust the other completely. If she gave him her body, it would be far too easy for her to forget the reality of their situation. Already she had caught herself wishing, yearning, and aching for things that would never be. If she crossed this final line, she was not so sure she could keep herself from giving him her heart. And wanting his in return. She had already seen what one-sided love had done to her mother, how blind it had made her to her father's faults. She would not make the same mistakes.

'Why not, love? Come tomorrow, I will leave and this can be just a pleasurable interlude for both of us. I can make it so good for you, Minerva. It won't complicate anything.'

What did he say just now?

'You're leaving?!' She burst out in shock. And then she remembered the reason she'd sought him out in the first place. She sat up, forcing him to back away. 'You cannot leave!'

'And why ever not?' He demanded.

'Because!' She cried in alarm. 'Your mother is coming!'

He shot up out of his seat with another curse. If anything could kill an amorous mood, it would be the mention of the miserable, sharp-tongued harpy that she called her mother-in-law.

'Well, that, my dearest wife, sounds like a problem for you! I am leaving tomorrow!'

'Oh, don't you dare!' She thundered, rising to her feet, hugging her slipping bodice to her chest. Mortification spread through her as she realized that she had let Benedict of all people take such liberties with her! 'Benedict. William. Montgomery. If you think you are leaving me with her, alone, you are sorely mistaken.'

'And pray, madam, how do you intend to stop me?'   

'Do you think me above a little domestic warfare, husband?' She demanded. Yes, frustration and irritation were safe. They were familiar. Not the mindless way she had almost given herself to him without a second thought. Not the impossibly strong desire that had completely addled her at his touch. 'Mayhap, your carriage shall break the axel! Or your horses might accidentally escape the stables because one of the grooms forgot to close the stall doors? Mayhap, all your luggage shall simply vanish!'

'Madam, if anything happens to my damned horse-'

'Don't you attempt to 'Madam' me! Your mother, your problem. She is coming here because of you! Now you can cooperate with me, or you can pit yourself against me. And in case you have not noticed, this is my home. Your title, your money mean nothing here. They mean nothing to me.'

He leveled her with a look that promised retribution and then stalked off. The door to his room slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.