The Mad, Bad Duke

She laughed nervously, but the panther ignored her. He paced away, prowling the circle, muscles rippling with his restless stride.

  “Not much privacy out here, is there?” Meagan went on. “You’d think the woods would be quieter than a ballroom, but not when you’re the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess, I am afraid. We will always be surrounded by servants and bodyguards. Never a moment to ourselves.”

  Alexander swung toward her. He shimmered into his logosh form, and then suddenly to Alexander, tall and naked, his eyes filled with hot fury.

  “Get away,” he snarled, and then dropped back into the panther.

  “Alexander.” Meagan choked back tears. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

  The panther ignored her. That one moment of awareness had vanished, and he continued to pace, his eyes devoid of all but animal thought.

  “I heard a funny thing today,” she said, wiping tears from her face. “I talked to Black Annie. She seemed surprised we’d been trying to find her, but I believe she craftily avoided us for as long as she pleased. She told me that the love spell had finished on our wedding night. That it was over. That anything we have felt since then is all our own doing. Is that not amusing?”

  It wasn’t in the least amusing, but she was babbling, trying to think of things that might break through his wall.

  “So really,” she went on, “all the times I told you I loved you, it was not the spell controlling me. I moved my own lips and spoke from my own heart. Are you not entertained?”

  His distracted pacing slowed but did not stop. He moved like a caged beast, uncertain and frustrated.

  “I love you, Alexander,” Meagan said. “It is very frightening to feel it this much, but I cannot help it. I love you.”

  Alexander growled, his breath grating in his throat.

  “I love you whether you are a man or a logosh or a Grand Duke. I want you in my life—I cannot live any other way. If Nikolai has to make a bed for you on the floor, so be it, and if you claw the furniture to shreds, well, the chairs in the India sitting room are hideous anyway.”

  Tears trickled down her face, chilling her skin in the biting wind.

  Alexander shimmered to stand upright as himself, breathing hard, eyes glowing blue in the darkness. “Stop,” he grated.

  “I cannot stop. I love you. I will keep saying so until I die, whether you understand me or not.”

  Alexander stared at her, then swept his gaze around the circle at Egan and his bodyguards, who watched warily, holding swords ready.

  “Go,” he snarled in Nvengarian, before he dropped into panther form again and resumed his silent stalking.

  Meagan chose to believe he meant the men, not her. “Please, gentlemen,” she said. “Do give my husband and me some privacy.”

  “Not a good idea, lass,” Egan said, moving protectively next to her. “He’s no’ right in the head at present—God knows what he’ll do if ye are alone with him.”

  Alexander turned and saw Egan at Meagan’s side. His eyes narrowed with sudden hate and he leapt, forms blurring to first the logosh and then the panther. Egan sped out of the way, swearing. Alexander came to his feet by Meagan, remaining in panther shape. He circled her, pressing his sleek body against her, glaring at Egan and the others.

  Egan held up his hands. “All right, all right. I willna touch her.”

  Meagan put her hand to Alexander’s fur, sinking her fingers in the hot softness. He rumbled deep in his belly, pressing hard against her as he circled.

  “Go away, Egan,” Meagan said. “Let me be with him.”

  “It is best,” Myn said behind her. Julius and Egan looked rebellious.

  “Please,” Meagan said to Julius, a word she knew he understood. “Please, Julius. I can shout if I need help.”

  Egan scowled. “By the time we come running, lass, it might be too late.”

  Meagan felt the sinuous strength of Alexander against her, the protectiveness that flowed through his body as he twined about her. “He will not hurt me.”

  “I’m no’ convinced of that.” Egan gave her a serious look. “Even Alexander the man is unpredictable, love.”

  “I have to try.”

  “She is right,” Myn said. “Let her.”

  Egan continued to project angry worry. Julius and the bodyguards did not look any happier, but at last they obeyed Myn.

  Meagan rested her hand on Alexander’s back as she walked slowly through the widening circle of men and swords. Alexander moved silently beside her, his great feet making no noise on the damp ground. His body was hot, warming her through her skirts.

  They walked quietly past the bodyguards, past Egan, who looked like he hated himself but didn’t know how to stop it, and past Myn, quiet and enigmatic.

  Meagan’s hand on Alexander’s back, fingers threading through his fur, the two of them walked alone and unhindered to the house. They entered its welcoming warmth, and Meagan closed the door behind them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Alexander rose, feeling his man shape stretch his limbs and his back, his legs moving to hold him upright. He stood in the sitting room of the Elizabethan house he’d hired, a fire roaring in the huge grate, the windows shuttered against cold darkness.

  Meagan was just latching the last shutter, her cloak lying in a pool of dark velvet on the floor behind her. Her hair, loosened from its knot, sent strands of red flowing down her back.

  Alexander was naked, but his skin was hot. He clenched his hands, willing his body to remain in this form.

  Meagan turned from the window. She studied him a moment, her sweet brown eyes roving his body, taking in the deep cuts on his arm from the fights in the ballroom and against von Hohenzahl’s men. He vaguely remembered tearing loose from von Hohenzahl’s net and rampaging his would-be captors, tossing them this way and that. He remembered von Hohenzahl screaming for them not to kill Alexander, and then screaming in fear when Alexander turned on him. Von Hohenzahl’s blood had tasted best of all.

  Alexander felt his form harden toward the bloodthirsty logosh, and he struggled against the change.

  “You’ve been hurt,” Meagan announced.

  His attention riveted to her again, and his man shape solidified, which included the firm rise of his cock.

  She moved toward him. “Will you promise to stay here while I fetch water to wash your wounds?”

  Alexander unclenched his jaw, willing his brain to think and speak with her in English. “You should go,” he said harshly. “Have Myn take you home.”

  “I am home. This house is yours, at least as long as you’re in England, correct? In that case, I live here too.” She looked at the low-beamed ceiling, the simple comfortable furniture, the whitewashed walls. “It is quite charming, not to mention a relief after Maysfield House. You were very clever to find it—a place you can bring those who won’t be impressed by ostentation.”

  “Meagan.”

  “I am not leaving, Alexander, so put it out of your head.”

  She had to move past him to reach the door. He caught her, distracted by how her sleek hair slid over his fingers. “You are not safe with me.”

  To his amazement, she smiled. “I believe you will defend me against all comers. I am your wife, Alexander. I am staying.”

  His fingers tightened. “If you stay, I cannot guarantee I will be gentle with you.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers cool points on his burning skin. “I am not afraid.”

  “You should be afraid. I want you. I will take you.”

  She caressed his cheek, her eyes soft, then withdrew. “I hope so. Now, I shan’t be long.”

  He made himself let her go. She walked away, the delicate sway of her backside stoking the fires inside him. His rock-hard erection stood straight out from his body, a fact her roving gaze had not missed.

  What had she said out in the woods? He’d barely been able to register her presence, let alone her words. He’d so wanted her there that he feared himself imagining her
soft scent and melodic voice.

  She told me that the love spell had finished on our wedding night. That anything we have felt since then is all our own doing.

  In other words, the heart-wrenching, gut-twisting love he felt for Meagan, the longing to have her beside him every minute—holding her hand during the day and buried deep inside her at night—came from his own carnal lusts, not a spell.

  No, it was too intense, it had to be magic. He’d never felt anything like it in his life.

  His wife banged back into the room with a large bowl of water and an armful of towels. “Thank goodness the water was warm. Someone has kept your kitchen fire going and heated water, presumably so Julius and his men could have coffee after chasing you about. I do hope they don’t catch cold out there, but I will not let them in to interfere with us.”

  Humor trickled through Alexander’s near madness. No woman but Meagan would dream of standing up to a Nvengarian fighting man like Julius and tell him to go find something else to do. Alexander would have to give him a raise in wages.

  The humor deserted him when she folded back the sleeves of her cotton dress and dipped a towel into the bowl. Her bare forearms glistened with perspiration, and a tendril of red hair fell to skim the surface of the water.

  He wanted her with a fierce intensity that would not let him hold back. He moved to her much like the panther would move, quietly and with determination, the thick wool of the carpet prickling his bare feet.

  She met his gaze, unafraid, and gave him a little smile before wringing out the cloth and stroking the wet towel across the cuts on his arm. “I would not want you to take sick.”

  He slid his hand behind her head and threaded his fingers though her loose hair as she dabbed at the smears of blood on his interlaced tattoo. When she raised her head, he saw tears on her face.

  “I was so worried about you,” she said.

  No woman had ever worried about him, not even Sephronia. The former Grand Duchess, stately and regal, cold like a diamond, would never have stood by him while he struggled to regain his sanity. She would never have looked at him with love in her eyes and say she’d worried for him.

  Meagan, on the other hand, had come all the way out here in the dark, had stood in front of the beast in the freezing cold woods and declared her love in front of a dozen men, and now dabbed at the blood on his arm, fearing he’d take a fever.

  He stroked Meagan’s hair, reveling in how sleek and soft it was. No longer able to speak, he leaned down and kissed the tears from her face.

  As his lips met hers, what little control he had evaporated. He heard the growl in his own throat, and her eyes widened.

  Then they were on the floor, Meagan landing on top of him, the water cascading over them in a warm arc. Alexander kissed her, furrowing her hair where droplets of water glistened like jewels. She closed her eyes tight, tears still beading on her lashes, the line of freckles across her nose an endearing sight.

  She pressed her fingers into his bare shoulders, indenting his flesh. The slight pain only increased his desperation.

  Too many wretched garments barred the way between her and himself. Alexander found the fabriccovered buttons at the back of her bodice and impatiently pushed them at the holes. No, not fast enough. He spread his hand.

  Fabric tore and buttons popped, and he fumbled with the ties that held her stays. The night he’d first made love to her, he’d been able to slowly and deliberately work the complicated laces free, but tonight his clumsy fingers tugged and pulled to no avail.

  “Let me.” She dropped a kiss to his lips, then rose to her knees, her thighs on either side of him, his erection pressing the tangle of her skirts. He had already snapped the laces, and she reached behind her to tug and pull them free.

  The stays came off to reveal her pale chemise, her tight, dark nipples pressing the fabric. She shrugged off the remains of her bodice, then unlaced her chemise and pushed it from her shoulders. Her breasts came into view, beautiful and taut, fitting perfectly into his hands.

  Every lesson he’d learned at the cult of Eros fled his conscious mind. He only knew he wanted Meagan with mindless intensity and would not be satisfied until he sated himself with her.

  “Take off the dress,” he commanded.

  Meagan, face still stained with tears, climbed to her feet and let her chemise and gown fall from her hips, then she stepped out of the clothes and tossed them aside. She was naked except for her stockings and slippers, just as she had been at Lady Featherstone’s the night the love spell had made him take her. She was even more beautiful now, pink-cheeked and starry-eyed, knowing what it was like to have him inside her and wanting it again.

  He reached to her hips and dragged her down on top of him. “Ride me,” he said.

  Her lips curved to a smile, a woman pleased that a man wanted her so much. She slid her knees to either side of him, rubbing the lips of her opening against his waiting cock. He groaned with frustration, fingers clamping her wrists.

  “Please.”

  The secret smile broadened. Her opening was so slick, filled with honey. Still she teased him, rubbing the folds against his flange, scraping her hard nub against his tip.

  “Do not,” he said between gritted teeth. “Do not, Meagan, you will regret it.”

  “I don’t believe I will,” she said softly, and then finally she eased herself straight onto him.

  As soon as she tightened around his stiffness, her red lips parting with what she felt, Alexander lost the remnants of his sanity.

  His mind went blank, shooting down roads of wildness he didn’t understand. All he felt was the tight point where they joined, her wrists under his fingers, her soft backside resting on his thighs.

  Do not hurt her, his mind warned him, but he was beyond all thought.

  He thrust up into her, reveling in the hot pressure of her. He wanted to stay inside her forever, in this woman he loved, letting her scent cover him, the smell of her honey coupled with her own musk and the sweet spice of her perfume.

  Love you. I love you.

  When he pried open his eyes he saw her far gone in the feel of it, her eyes closed, hands clenched against the pain of his grasp on her wrists.

  He was hurting her. He slowed his thrusts.

  Instantly her eyes jerked open. “No,” she begged. “Don’t stop. Please.”

  Alexander released her hands and grasped her hips, pulling her harder onto him as he thrust deep inside her. He slid one hand to where they were joined and rubbed his thumb against the twist of hair and the firm nub beneath it.

  Meagan screamed. She ground her hips faster and faster, her shrieks driving him to a frenzy.

  He felt himself start to change. No. No, not yet.

  “Alexander,” she said, brown eyes wide.

  He twined his fingers through hers and held on so hard that his nails creased her skin. “Do not let me go away. Keep me here.”

  She nodded, loose strands of hair brushing his chest. She held his hand firmly, never mind that he must nearly be breaking her fingers.

  She leaned to him, the points of her nipples hard against his flesh. “I love you, Alexander. Stay with me.”

  He nodded. The logosh wanted her as much as he did, but he would stay for her. He had to.

  He felt himself begin to change again, his muscles rippling. Meagan stared in shock, and then he was Alexander again. “Damn it.”

  “Stay with me,” she breathed. “Be my husband. I love you.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Stay with me.”

  “No.” He could barely think of words. “The other.”

  She skimmed her lips over his face. “I love you. I love you, Alexander.”

  “God help me.” He climaxed, his body shuddering with release, his temperature soaring. He swore his skin burned, and then his hands became claws, raking Meagan’s flesh.

  “Alexander,” she cried desperately. “I love you.”

  Exerting every ounce of strength he h
ad, Alexander willed the claws to become fingers again, ordinary brown hands scratched from bramble in the woods.

  His seed filled her and he gathered her against him, his breath raw, his heart pounding.

  They lay together, breathing hard, trying to recover, every inch of Alexander’s body hurting and yet satisfied.

  He scraped the hair back from her forehead. “You are the most precious thing in my life. My Meagan. I love you.”

  She let out her breath and a little laugh came with it. “Oh good. Because I love you too.”

  Meagan was too exhausted to walk up the stairs to the bedrooms above. She happily let Alexander scoop her into his strong arms and carry her.

  The gallery creaked with the interesting squeal of an old house, the railings dark with age. She fell in instant love with the bedroom Alexander took her to off the first landing. The chamber was small, situated in the front of the house and right over the warm sitting room. The bed had a carved headboard and a high mattress piled with pillows and thick down quilts.

  “If you had brought me to this house right away,” she said as Alexander set her down on the cozy comfort of the bed. “I would not have hesitated half as long when you asked me to marry you.”

  He raised his brows, a ghost of the cool Grand Duke returning. “I thought anything less than my overblown house in Berkeley Square would not please you.”

  She smiled sleepily as he climbed into the bed beside her and pulled quilts and pillows around them. “I am a country girl and I like simple pleasures.”

  “I will endeavor to remember.” He rested his head on her pillow and slid a strong arm around her waist, his large body warming the bed better than a hot brick.

  “I admit I was curious to see what was inside that house.” She smiled. “And what was inside you.”

  “I believe you saw that clearly enough tonight.”

  “I wanted to see it. I want all of you—logosh and Grand Duke and Alexander and warm furry panther.”

  He frowned. “You are pleased that your husband is a wild beast?”

  “Hmm.” Downstairs after he’d lain on the carpet catching his breath, after she’d stretched herself on top of him and soaked in his warmth, he’d risen and refilled the bowl of water from the kitchen to gently clean the scratches his half-man, half-panther self had made in her thighs. The scratches were light, just drawing blood. He’d kept his incredible strength sheathed for her even then.