Dukes By the Dozen

Just like her sister, it seemed, she had no idea that it wasn’t how she looked on the outside that made her so beautiful to him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head. “What’s done is done. No matter how hard I fight it, in the end, my sister shan’t have the love match she deserves, and neither shall I. She shall marry the despot they found for her, and I shall be forced to marry their duke.”

Their duke, she’d said again. As if she were already building a wall around her heart where he—where the duke?—was concerned, if only because she associated him with her cruel parents.

“Perhaps this duke won’t be so bad,” he said gently. Christ, was he speaking of himself in the third person now? “Perhaps he will be your love match after all.”

One single tear slid from the corner of her eye, trailing over the apple of her cheek and brushing the corner of her mouth. Then another.

“But that would be awful. Don’t you see? How could I live with always knowing that my happiness came at the expense of my sister’s?”

Her words pierced like a dagger. What could he possibly do about that? He wanted to fix this for her—he had to fix this for her.

Maxwell wasn’t positive how aristocratic marriages worked, per se, so the barrister in him asked clarifying questions. “So, your parents are insistent that you marry this duke?”

She nodded miserably.

“And I’m to understand that a younger sister cannot become engaged until the older sister is spoken for?”

She blinked up at him, a bemused crease forming between her brows as she considered his questions. At least there were no more tears.

“Well, it’s not a law or anything, but yes, that is the custom. And my parents are nothing if not traditional.”

“I see. How, if at all, can an engagement be broken?”

She winced. “Breach of promise is a serious offense. If a man breaks off the engagement, the woman is all but ruined. He, too, can face harsh repercussions if her family is not amenable.”

“And if a woman instigates it?”

“A woman can cry off more easily, if the gentleman goes along with it. However, if you’re thinking of my sister, my father would disown her even if her lout of an affianced would let her go. She could end up without a home or any means of support.”

Maxwell nodded, his resolve growing. He hadn’t wished to become a duke, but in the past weeks, his eyes had been opened to the possibilities it would afford. While he would no longer be able to help individuals as a barrister, he would have the power to help more

people by working for their interests in Parliament.

And only he could help this woman—and her sister. In doing so, he might even win her love. If that wasn’t worth embracing a dukedom for…

“Then your duke shall simply have to take your sister in. Or insist that she be given the time to find a proper husband, if she desires, and wait for you until she does so.”

His Boadicea no longer looked bemused—her black brows had lifted and her mouth had dropped open in pure incredulity. Then she made a sound that was part huff, part snort of disbelief. “No man would do that.”

Maxwell reached for her then. He cradled her face in his palm, wiping away the last vestige of her tears with his thumb.

“I would,” he murmured, “were I your duke.”

And he kissed her.

T’was a sweet kiss, at first. A promise, even if she couldn’t know it.

He tasted the salt on her lips and something roared within him. Max pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms—instinctively wishing to protect her from anything, everything, that would make her cry.

He should stop this kiss now, tell her who he was, reassure her that all would be well.

But then her tongue touched his in a tentative foray. A hesitant invitation.

One he could not resist.

He rewarded her courage with a bold, sensual stroke of his own. A groan tore from his throat as he fought for restraint. If her parents had guarded her so closely, this could very well be her first kiss. Just the idea that he might be the first to taste her lips sent fire blazing through his veins. Thinking of all the other firsts to come practically turned him to cinder.

But he reined himself in…he had to go slowly.

She wouldn’t let him hold back. His fierce warrior queen threw her arms over his shoulders and pulled herself more tightly against him. His nerves singed at the feel of her sliding over him, of her curves settling into the plains and valleys of his body, fitting herself to him.

She matched his kisses and caresses with abandon, at first mimicking his movements, but then experimenting with moves of her own.

He barely even noticed when Duke, who’d run up ahead of them, came barreling back past them as if he were the one on fire. Max’s entire world had narrowed to this one place, this one moment, this one woman.

The only thing he cared about was making her burn as he did.

Until a shockingly familiar voice doused everything.

“Unhand my daughter.”

CHAPTER 6

EMMALINE JERKED at the sound of her father’s angry command.

Her father!