Stumbling up the stone steps, he rattled the latches. What a bird, he whispered with a wicked grin.īut upon pivoting to confront the imposing main doors of the keep, he found his humor had quickly vanished. He shut the door to keep from pouncing back inside the carriage. Hurry back, Yer Grace.ĭamian could feel the swelling in his groin. With a bubbling laugh, she collapsed against the cushioned squab, hiking her skirt. Wait here, he gave the rough command to the driver, and then with a seductive growl, ordered the accommodating wench to do the same. A distant carriage fast approached, intruding upon the stillness, each squeak of the axle muffled by the fervid voices of the couple within.Ī black leather boot kicked open the carriage door and out stumbled an inebriated Damian Westmore, the Duke of Wembury, dubbed the Duke of Rogues by his peers. It was a quiet night, the earth sound asleep, lulled by a chorus of chirping crickets.
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