Citit - Sins of a Wicked Duke by Sophie Jordan

Author:Sophie Jordan [Jordan, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Pity Frank had come in when he did. Now the lad went to bed thinking Dominic was engaged in all manner of vice. The young pup had looked at him with such disappointment that Dominic almost felt inclined to knock on his door and correct him of his misapprehensions. His lips thinned and he clutched the arms of the chair firmly. Almost. He did not care what one wet-behind-the-ears boy thought of him. He did not.

He thrummed his fingers over the padded arm, his gaze moving toward the door, to the thin glow of light peeping beneath it. From the door, his gaze moved to scan his room, alighting on the nearly empty decanter of brandy.

With a muttered curse, he surged to his feet, snatched the decanter and stalked toward the door. Clearly, his young valet was still awake. Why not make use of him?

“Frank,” he called, giving the door a swift, angry rap before closing his hand around the latch—and telling himself it was to simply request more brandy. Not because he gave a damn about what the young prig thought of him.

Opening the door, he stepped inside the smaller room, his gaze sweeping the dim interior, lips parting, readying to speak.

A soft glow of lamplight permeated the room, lending everything a soft haze. Then he realized some of the haze was in fact a vapor on the air. Steam rose from the copper tub on one side of the room.

His gaze landed on the tub…then drifted to the figure standing beside it, a female, so still, frozen like one of the marble statues in the garden at Wayfield Park. Something froze inside him as well. They stared at each other for an interminable stretch of time, gazing at each other as two enemies coming face-to-face on a field of battle. She with a towel clutched to her bare body.

Her eyes flared wide, enormous and frightened as any animal caught in a predator’s sights.

The decanter slipped from his fingers, the dull thud barely registering. His gaze dragged over her, feasting on moist flesh. The wet towel did little to conceal all that pink, glistening skin—the endless legs…an amazing stretch of well-shaped legs. More legs than he remembered ever seeing on a woman. His gaze roamed upward, sliding over long lines and gentle curves until he encountered her face—and gave it his first hard look.

The truth struck him in a blazing flash, knocking the wind from his lungs as effectively as a fist to his chest.

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