Why the fear? Was she fearful because she might be caught in a lie? Or was she feeling great fear because she was afraid for her brother? He skimmed his hands up her stomach, to rest just below the generous curve of her breasts. She wore a fresh gown, a fetching one of ivory silk. She stiffened. Her heart thundered against his fingers. “Your father assured me James is safe. But he also assured me I would never see the boy again. Why, my dear, do you think I worked to ruin your brother?”
“I—”
“I did it to get my nephew back. All I want is the safe return of an innocent boy. He is only five years of age.”
Against his body, she shuddered. “I cannot believe this. I have no proof my father said any such thing to you. I have witnesses who saw you leave with my brother.”
He traced the smooth curve of her jaw. Was her outrage just an act? Was it possible her father had ensured she did not know that he had stolen a child to use the poor lad as a hostage? “I know where he is. I will take you to him. But first, my dear, you will submit to my every command tonight.”
“What—what do you mean?”
“I want to make love to you. You will do everything I ask, and then I will tell you where you can find your wastrel brother.”
Lucy glanced around the room—at the swing, the manacles, and the benches with their chains. She did not care about their bargain now. And the last thing she wanted to do was something sexual. “No. I wish to go to my brother now.”
Wastrel or not, Jack deserved her protection. She had vowed to Father that she would look after Jack, who drank too much, gamed too much, and was always in trouble. But also, Jack had protected her once, when she’d needed him most. He had rescued her from Allan, and she owed him her very life for that.
A wicked grin curved the duke’s lips. He winked at her, which infuriated her. Lightly, he said, “Your brother is perfectly safe. I doubt he would appreciate your interruption too soon.”
She did not appreciate his teasing tone at this particular time. “Why? Where is he?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the maddening man.
“No harm in giving you a little hint, I suppose... .” He shrugged. “My men have located him in a brothel—he’s been holed up in there for days.”
“A brothel?” Pure fury rushed through her. Lucy clenched her fists at her sides. “We thought he was dead and he is hiding in a brothel?”
“Indeed.”
There was much about this she did not understand. “How, if you wanted to find your nephew, did you not know where my brother was? Are you telling me that after you left that tavern together, when he had not given you the information you wanted, you simply let him go?”
Suspiciously, she watched his eyes, to see if he gave himself away. It didn’t make sense. But his eyes merely reflected the light in the room, and she could get no sense of his private thoughts.
The duke sighed. “I allowed your brother to go as I intended to follow him. However, I was overly arrogant, and your brother evaded me. For as long as you have been looking for him, I’ve been searching for him. I want him to tell me where my nephew is. Now, come, Lady Lucy, we made a bargain. Sexual pleasure first.”
She should go and find Jack right now. So she could boot her brother in his derriere, the thoughtless wretch. But her body relaxed in the duke’s embrace, against her will. She couldn’t help it. She was so tired—tired of trying to save Jack from himself.
Greystone’s arms tightened around her. She could not deny they were strong, and inside the circle of them, she felt secure.
“Even if we had not made a bargain,” the duke murmured, “I would move heaven and earth to make love to you.”
His lips touched her neck. The most remarkable tingle burst like a fireball at the point where he kissed her. It rushed down her spine. Then he ran his tongue along her neck.
Inside, she was molten, as hot as dragon fire.
“Your brother should have taken much better care of you.” Kisses trailed down the nape of her neck. Lucy whimpered.
She should go to Jack ... but the duke was right ... Jack would be furious at her for hauling him from a house of ill repute. She gazed down at the duke’s golden hair. “You do believe I know nothing about your nephew, don’t you? I truly don’t.”
His tongue ran over the swell of her breasts. “Yes, I believe you.” He looked up. “I would say I was wrong about your father, except he admitted it to me.”
“But why would my father take an innocent boy—”
He had turned her as she protested, and he silenced her with one hot, openmouthed, hungry kiss.
The duke must believe she had nothing to do with the kidnapping of his nephew—how could he kiss her like this if he did? Lucy wanted to know exactly what had happened but she was on fire, and she couldn’t stop kissing him.
She must know about his nephew’s kidnapping. Even as he assured her he did believe her, Sinjin could not understand how Lady Lucy did not know what her family had done.
True, she had appeared to be genuinely shocked, but she’d managed to keep London Society from learning she was a dragon. She knew how to keep a secret.
She wouldn’t tell him the truth. He had to get inside her mind and see for himself. To do that, he had to coax her to trust him.
Her skin sizzled with warmth beneath his hands. What he intended to do was give Lady Lucy Drake an introduction to exotic sex in a way she wouldn’t forget.
He could tie her up and have his wicked way with her.
Or he could let her tie him up.
The duke stretched his long, nude body on one of the benches, and he grinned. Lucy was still completely dressed, and she had crossed her arms over her chest. He had simply left her, walked to the bench, and lay down.
His feet rested by the legs, where ropes dangled. He held more rope in his hands. With his arms above his head, he looked both vulnerable and more muscular. In this position, his chest and back looked even broader. Unlike her body, which was soft, her curves defined by areas where she was too plump, his skin clung to the shape of his remarkable muscles. Then he shifted, and she saw his erection where it was trapped between the bench and his abdomen—goodness, he was very aroused, his penis long and straight.
She approached him cautiously. With his cheek resting on the smooth leather of the bench, he grinned. “I want you to lie like this, my dear. I would like to massage you.”
“I cannot lie anywhere like that. I am wearing my stays.”
His relaxed laugh rolled over her. He sat up, swinging his long legs over the bench, and crooked his finger. She couldn’t help but stare at his wobbling penis. The head of it glistened in a way that made her blush. Trails of a silvery fluid dribbled from a tiny opening in the acorn-shaped head.
Lifting her hem, she walked to him. Holding her hips, he made her turn, then he swiftly undid the fastenings of her dress. He
