Josephine honestly didn’t care about the brooch any longer. But what she cared deeply about was Lavisham, which seemed ridiculous but also…right. Father must have suspected as much upon meeting the duke as well else he wouldn’t have deliberately lost the brooch and then sent her to retrieve it from Lavisham. The peacock, which was of no value at all, was merely a means to an end.
So here she was, dressed as a lad once more because it had made the heat in Lavisham’s eyes flare, daring to live as her father had wished. Boldly. Bravely.
“Cut a piece of clothing off you? Are you out of your bloody mind?”
“That doesn’t appeal to you,Lustful Lavisham?” There wasn’t any doubt that it did, given the hard length stretching down one thigh. His breeches were rather unforgiving as well.
“Josephine.” His gaze never moved from her, lingering over every inch of her body with a great deal of hunger. Lavisham seemed unable to say more.
“You may do anything you wish, once you cut something off.” Josephine shifted her shoulders, making the mounds of her breasts ripple. “You may also rip or tear if warranted.”
“Anything?” he breathed.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace. I don’t cheat at cards.”
“Fine,” he grunted. “But I won’t be gentle. I’ll ruin you, Josephine. Surely you know that,” he warned.
“Stop teasing, Your Grace. I’m not afraid of you.”
“I’ll take all of you. Every inch. Create an enormous scandal. I’m sure my servants are whispering about you being here even now.”
“I’m aware.”
Lavisham frowned. “I won’t—I won’t let you go after this. I may even keep the brooch so that you lose your inheritance and have no way to escape me.”
“Do your worst, Lavisham.”
He picked up the deck of cards. “I intend to.”
Lavisham pulled her to him, slamming his mouth down on hers with such possessiveness, such unparalleled savagery, Josephine felt the air leave her lungs.
Goodness.
As his lips moved over hers, with carnal intent, licking at the seam of her mouth until she opened for him, Josephine wondered if they’d actually be playing cards at all tonight. As far as she was concerned, the wager had already been won. Lavisham’s intentions were declared with every press of his mouth against hers. Her body started up a delicious hum, andthe fluttering in her mid-section, always present around the duke, increased tenfold, blooming between her thighs.
Gently, he eased away from her and pushed Josephine to sit on the leather sofa before striding over to his desk. He rifled through a drawer before producing a letter opener, frowned, and then went to the study door, opening it a crack.
Josephine heard him whispering to whomever stood outside. His butler, she supposed.
“Don’t move an inch,” Lavisham instructed her.
“I vow I will not, but I find I’m overly warm. May I remove my coat?”
“Jesus, Josephine. Yes.”
As she shook off the coat, footsteps sounded in the hall. Lavisham muttered something threatening and then shut the door. He held a small knife in his hand.
“I worried the letter opener wouldn’t be sharp enough.”
His gaze remained fixed on her breasts, which were unbound and pushing against the fabric of the shirt. She’d asked specifically for the oldest shirt her footman had, and she was not disappointed. The fabric was nearly threadbare in spots.
“Deal, Lady Josephine Harrington. And in future, you will promise to wear onlymyshirts if you wish to dress in such a manner.”
Josephine took a moment to compose herself. Lavisham was quiteferal.
“I will agree to not stealing from the footmen,” she answered, “but you will not dictate my clothing, Your Grace, unless you wish to discuss the indecent cut of your own breeches.”
A snarl came from him. He sat across from her, took Josephine’s hand and placed it between his thighs, directly over the hard ridge of his manhood, which jumped and swelled further beneath her fingers. “Fair enough.”
