Zachary Black: Duke of Debauchery

Did she regret her elopement of ten months ago?

Of course she did.

If she could live that time over again, she would have remained in England with her family.

And become the wife of Zachary Black, the Duke of Hawksmere instead?

Never!

Despite all that Georgianna had endured these past months, despite all that she might still have to endure, she did not have a single regret in regards to refusing to become the wife of the Duke of Hawksmere.

She would never marry at all now, of course. How could she, when her reputation was now such that no gentleman would ever consider making her his wife? And to lie about her past, to pose as a widow, perhaps, in order to marry a lower-born gentleman, was a deceit she refused to practise on any man, or any children born into that marriage.

No, Georgianna had accepted that she would spend the rest of her life alone. As she fully deserved to do, when her impetuous actions of ten months ago had resulted in such shame and scandal.

‘Do not look so sad, Georgianna.’ The duke deliberately chose to misunderstand the reason for that sadness as he crossed the bedchamber on predatory soft steps, until he now stood just inches away from her. ‘I may be busy for the rest of the day, but I shall return later this evening. And when I do—’ those glittering silver eyes held her mesmerised as he slowly raised a hand and allowed the hardness of his knuckles to graze softly over the warmth of her cheek ‘—I am sure we shall be able to think of several ways in which to keep you entertained, during your incarceration in my bedchamber.’

Georgianna gasped as she heard the intent beneath that softly sensuous voice. Just as she now flinched as the hardness of those knuckles travelled the length of her throat before moving lower, lingering to caress the swell of her breasts through the material of her gown.

Leaving her in absolutely no doubt as to what those entertainments might be.

Her cheeks burned with humiliated colour as she pulled back from those caressing knuckles. ‘I may have fallen from decency in society’s eyes, Hawksmere, but I assure you I have absolutely no intention of becoming your plaything.’

The duke eyed her derisively. ‘The arousal of your breasts, from just the merest touch of my knuckles, tells a different story,’ he drawled mockingly as he glanced pointedly downwards.

Georgianna’s startled gaze followed the direction of his mocking gaze, her face paling as she saw what Hawksmere so obviously saw; those rosy berries that tipped her breasts were now swollen and full, and could clearly be seen outlined against the soft material of her gown buttoned up to her throat.

Because they were aroused?

By Hawksmere?

Impossible.

Oh, he was handsome enough to set any woman’s heart beating faster. But it was a dangerous attraction, a challenge those silver eyes proclaimed no one woman would ever be able to satisfy.

Too much of a challenge, it was rumoured, for any woman, high-or low-born, married or unmarried, to resist sharing the duke’s bed once he had expressed an interest.

But Georgianna was not one of those weak and susceptible women. How could she be, when she found Hawksmere no less intimidating now than she had ten months ago?

Except...

There was no denying the physical evidence of her breasts having become aroused by his lightest of touches.

Not with desire but fear, Georgianna instantly assured herself.

Because Hawksmere had just threatened to keep her here, a prisoner in his bedchamber, for as long as he chose to do so.

She straightened her spine. ‘You cannot keep me here against my will,’ she repeated firmly.

‘I can do anything I wish with you, Georgianna,’ Zachary murmured with satisfaction, mocking her response, her undeniable arousal at his caress.

An arousal which Zachary knew no woman could fabricate or control.

As he had been unable to control his own arousal as he had lightly caressed the engorged tip of her breast.

Despite her having run away from marrying him ten months ago, Zachary could not deny that he still physically desired this woman. In his bed, beneath him, to be buried to the hilt between her thighs.

Try as he might, Zachary had found no explanation for that sudden clench of desire when he had looked at Georgianna Lancaster ten months ago, and he had none now, either. It was enough to know that it still existed.

A weakness, in the current circumstances, best kept to himself.

He stepped back abruptly. ‘As I said, I have other things to occupy me this morning, but I will go downstairs now and arrange a breakfast for you, and then I advise that you get some sleep.’

‘I am not hungry, nor shall I sleep.’

Zachary’s eyes narrowed on her critically, noting the hollows in the paleness of her cheeks, her slenderness beneath the unbecoming black gown. ‘You are grown too slender.’

‘I said I am not hungry.’ Those violet-coloured eyes flashed again in warning.

Another show of temper Zachary did not care for in the least, as he stepped deliberately closer to her, so close that he could see the way the pupils of her eyes expanded as she now looked up at him apprehensively.

‘Nevertheless, you will eat all of the breakfast I have brought up to you.’

She maintained her ground even as a nerve pulsed rapidly at her throat, no doubt as evidence of her inner nervousness. ‘And I have said I shall not.’

Once again Zachary felt that grudging admiration for her stubbornness; not too many people dared to stand against him, least of all women. She was a very young woman at that, and one who did not as yet appear to fully appreciate the danger she had placed herself in by choosing to step back into his life.

He gave a slow and deliberate smile. ‘I advise you not to defy me, Georgianna.’

She eyed him rebelliously. ‘Why should I not?’

He gave a nonchalant shrug as he murmured softly, ‘Because I shall win and you will lose.’

Georgianna repressed another shiver of apprehension as she heard the arrogant certainty in his voice. As she acknowledged that, through her own stupidity this time, Hawksmere now had her completely at his mercy. She was his prisoner, to do with as he wished.

Hawksmere smiled confidently as he seemed to guess at least some of her thoughts. ‘I shall be locking you in here in my absence, of course, and taking the key with me. And I advise that you not bother giving yourself a sore throat, or knuckles, by screaming or shouting, or banging on the door for my servants to release you whilst I am gone,’ he added derisively. ‘I shall make sure to inform them, before I depart, that it is all part of the erotic play between the two of us, and that the more you ask to be set free the more you desire to stay here and await my return.’

‘You truly are a monster.’ Georgianna’s cheeks burned with humiliated colour.

He shrugged. ‘I have never made any pretence of being anything else.’

The implication being, Georgianna knew, that she was the one who had practised deceit, when she’d lied to her family and her betrothed in order to run away with André.

And that Hawksmere believed she was lying to him even now.

Except she was not. And Hawksmere’s decision to keep her locked up here, and his threats, did not change the fact that time was more the enemy than this arrogant duke. ‘You will speak to someone this morning on my behalf?’

Hawksmere’s mouth thinned into an uncompromising line. ‘I have no plans to do so until the two of us have spoken again, no.’

‘But you must,’ Georgianna gasped desperately. ‘Napoleon...’

‘Enough, Georgianna,’ Hawksmere rasped his impatience with her persistence as he grasped her arms, his silver eyes as cold as ice as he looked down the length of his arrogant nose at her. ‘I have not had the opportunity to sleep, either, this past night, and my patience is now at an end.’

‘But...’

‘I said enough, Georgianna,’ he thundered.

Tears blurred her vision. ‘You have every right to be angry with me, to despise me for my having ended our betrothal in the way that I did.’ She gave a weary shake of her head. ‘Take your revenge upon me any way you please. I do not care what you do to me, as long as you take my warnings seriously.’

‘And if it is my wish to claim your body, for your having run from me, from our betrothal, ten months ago?’ he taunted softly.

She shook her head. ‘As long as you also listen to me in regards to Napoleon.’

‘One more mention of that man’s name and more pressing responsibilities be damned, I shall be forced to begin that punishment now!’ the duke warned darkly. ‘Now that I think about it, it might be best if I were to request that you remove your gown,’ he mused hardly. ‘You will be less likely to attempt an escape if you are half-naked.’

‘I will not take off my gown.’ Georgianna pulled out of his grasp to move quickly away from him, her hands held up defensively in front of her rapidly rising and falling chest.

Zachary studied her through narrowed lids as he noted the wild panic in those beautiful violet-coloured eyes. Much like a deer the moment it realised it was caught in the sights of the hunter’s gun.

All because he had asked her to remove her gown?

Surely a woman who had shared one man’s bed for the past ten months would not be quite so averse to the idea of another man seeing her naked?

Unless...

‘Did he hurt you?’ Zachary scowled darkly.

That violet gaze sharpened. ‘What?’

His mouth thinned. ‘Did Rousseau hurt you?’

‘Of course he hurt me! How could he not, when he used me to make good his escape?’

‘That is not the type of hurt I am referring to, Georgianna.’ Zachary took several steps towards her, coming to a halt as Georgianna shadowed those steps by moving back, until she was now pressed up against one of the velvet curtains hanging at the window. ‘I have no intentions of harming you, Georgianna.’

She gave a choked and bitter laugh. ‘You have just threatened to take away my gown.’

‘And that is all I have threatened.’

She gave a shudder. ‘It is enough!’

Zachary’s eyes narrowed. ‘Some men like to give pain to their bed partner during lovemaking, as a way of heightening their own arousal.’

She gasped. ‘Do you?’ Pale and slender fingers now tightly clasped at the throat of that unbecoming black gown as she stared at him with dark and shadowed eyes.

‘No, I most certainly do not,’ Zachary assured grimly. ‘But I am beginning to suspect that Rousseau did. Do you perhaps share his perversion?’

‘No!’

‘I am glad to hear it.’ Zachary’s eyes narrowed. ‘But has he left lasting marks upon your body you would not wish another man to see?’ he added harshly, surprised at how violent it made him feel to think of there being so much as a single bruise administered to that alabaster skin, let alone any lasting reminder of the man Rousseau.

Georgianna breathed shallowly, not sure she understood all that Zachary Black was saying to her. Not sure she wanted to understand.

Surely lovemaking was exactly that? An expression of the love a couple felt for one another? Or if not love, then at least a tenderness, a caring, for the other’s welfare?

What the duke was describing, the deliberate inflicting of pain, did not sound as if it could be any of those things.

And yet Georgianna did indeed bear scars, and ones inflicted upon her by André Rousseau. Not the visible scars to which Hawksmere seemed to refer, of course, but they were damning none the less. A testament to the scorn, the total uninterest in which André had held the impressionable young girl who had forsaken all for her love of him.

‘I can see that he did.’ Hawksmere obviously took her silence to be her answer, his expression grimmer than ever. ‘And you still love such a man?’ he added disgustedly.

‘No.’ Georgianna choked in protest; how could she possibly love a man who had treated her as André had?

To her everlasting shame, Georgianna was no longer sure she had ever really loved André, or whether she had not just been in love with love itself.

A year ago she had been so young and idealistic, had believed in love and romance. And the handsome and penniless Frenchman employed by her father had seemed so much more romantic, so much easier to love than the intimidating and distant Duke of Hawksmere. To the extent that Georgianna had woven all of her dreams about the golden-haired and romantic Frenchman in order to run away from marrying the dangerous duke.

Reality had proven to be so much less than those silly, romantic dreams.

Not that she believed Hawksmere to be any less dangerous now than she had previously. The opposite, after the things he had said and done to her today.

But she certainly had no romantic dreams left in regard to André Rousseau, either, or indeed any other man.

Hawksmere’s top lip curled up in distaste, silver eyes a pale glitter between narrowed lids. ‘Again, this is something we will have to discuss further upon my return. No doubt we shall have the opportunity to discuss many things during the hours we spend here in my bedchamber together,’ he added pleasantly.

‘How long do you intend to keep me here?’ Georgianna stared at him disbelievingly.

‘As long as it takes to get to the truth,’ Zachary assured uninterestedly.

She gave a desperate shake of her head. ‘Have you not listened to a word I have said? Do you not understand the urgency of the things I have told you?’

He eyed her mockingly. ‘I have listened to the little you decided to share with me, yes.’

‘What will it take to convince you of my sincerity?’

‘More than you have already told me, obviously,’ Zachary drawled drily, brows raised questioningly. A frown creased Georgianna’s forehead as she obviously fought an inner battle as to how much more she intended revealing to him.

Finally she gave a defeated sigh. ‘Napoleon is to leave Elba before the end of this month.’

‘And you come to me with this story now?’ He raised sceptical brows. ‘With the end of the month just days away?’

‘I did not—’ Georgianna gave an impatient shake of her head as she accepted that to Hawksmere this was still just a ‘story’. ‘I only learnt of the plan nine days ago and I could not immediately get passage from France. I...’ Her gaze lowered. ‘André has men placed at all of the ports, watching and waiting for anyone who might wish to betray Napoleon.’

‘And yet here you are,’ Hawksmere drawled disbelievingly.

She nodded. ‘But I had to bide my time and make good my escape when the chance came for me to join a large family travelling together. I was all the time fearful that someone might recognise me. Am I boring you, your Grace?’ she prompted sharply as the duke gave a yawn.

‘As it happens, yes, you are.’ He nodded unapologetically.

‘But...’

‘I really am uninterested in listening to any more buts or arguments just now, Georgianna,’ he rasped harshly.

Georgianna looked up searchingly into his hard and implacable face. Noting the cold glitter of his silver eyes. The tautness of the skin across sculptured cheekbones. The sneering curl of his top lip.

The determined set of his arrogant and unyielding jaw.

She knew in that moment that all of her efforts of appeal for Zachary Black’s help had been a waste of her time.

That this man despised her so utterly he would never believe a single word she said to him.

Chapter Four

Zachary was irritable and tired by the time he returned home several hours later, his morning having proved to be a frustrating one.

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