Protecting the Duke by Karyn Gerrard

Author:Karyn Gerrard [Gerrard, Karyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical, victorian, lady detective, romance, mystery, suspense
Publisher: KG Publishing
Published: 2021-04-17T03:00:00+00:00

* * *

Eleanora’s insides roiled with enough intense heat to singe them both. All her trepidations and rules of engagement?

Gone, in a flash.

Instead of pushing him away, she hauled him against her and rolled her hips. Even through their layers of clothes she felt the hardness of his arousal.

Being impulsive again. Not going to fight it.

“Hell,” he moaned. Christian captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply and distracting her from her task. He swirled the inside of her mouth with his talented tongue, and she replied in kind.

Eleanora allowed it to linger a moment, savored the hot, exciting taste of him before she reluctantly pulled away.

“They’re coming,” she whispered in his ear.

That kiss, though brief, was more intense than the one in the alley.

Concentrate, Eleanora. On the task before me.

A congregation of about seven women strolled confidently toward them, laughing and talking. It’s not as if the ladies dressed provocatively, but they certainly were not dressed in what is considered proper by society. They did not wear hats, shawls, or gloves, nor did they wear demure afternoon walking gowns buttoned up to the neck. A couple of them had their hair down as well, a definite violation of the rules.

With a sudden move, Christian clasped her wrist and held it against the wall. “Listen to me, my girl,” he growled rather loudly. “You’ll be makin’ me more coin or you’ll be more than sorry.”

The women were within earshot.

“Leave me alone! I do what I can,” she whimpered in reply.

His hand moved to her neck, and he gently squeezed, and Eleanora gave a performance worthy of The Gaiety Theater. Gasping, she gave a terrified look. The women slowed, watching the exchange as they headed toward the door. But they did not intervene. For they understood one did not step between a prossie and her pimp.

“Right you are. I’ll be back at supper, you better ’ave coin aplenty or I’ll be sellin’ you to the traders, see that I won’t.” His voice was laced with menace and venom, he certainly had her convinced.

Well done, Your Grace, Eleanora thought admiringly.

She cringed as if he were going to strike her.

The women headed through the entrance, one tsked and muttered, “Miserable bastard.”

Once the door closed, Christian laid a gentle kiss on her neck. “Did I hurt you?” he asked worriedly.

“No.” With decided reluctance, she gently pushed him away. The solid warmth of him was intoxicating—and far too distracting.

But beyond such pleasurable sensations, too many men treated women roughly as if they were property. Eleanora was relieved to learn her trust in Christian was not misplaced. He would never physically hurt her; she knew it to the depths of her soul.

“Head toward where the carriage dropped us off. There is an alley near, wait for me there,” she instructed.

Christian strode away, and with one last admiring gaze at his broad shoulders, Eleanora arranged her features into a fearful look of complete capitulation.

Stepping across the threshold of the Rusty Anchor, her senses were inundated with the odors of tobacco, beef and onions, and humanity.

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