The Iron Duke’s Ruin

So honest

The next evening, she walked into the library with her heart hammering against her ribs. Only to see that the ladder was still in the same place she left it yesterday and Alistair on the other hand was at the window holding a glass of hard whiskey in his hand.

The man didn’t even turn despite knowing she was there.

“The third shelf on the east wall requires attention,” he said, his voice neutral. “You will find dust atop the volumes of agricultural histories. It is… unacceptable.”

It was a deliberate return to the script. Master and maid. She nodded, and got her cloth and the little stool she would use to reach places since she didn’t want to use the ladder. Elara worked quietly making no sound.

And the girl could feel the man's eyes on her back as she worked and knew he was watching her. But made sure to focus on her task.

“You repaired your stocking,” he observed from across the room.

Her hand stilled. She had spent an hour darning the tear, her mother’s skill making the mend nearly invisible. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Thrift is a virtue.”

“Necessity, Your Grace.”

She waited for what felt like a moment then she heard his footsteps on the rug. He stopped behind her. He was not touching her but he was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body over her shoulders. So, Elara kept staring at the bookshelf trying hard to not look away. The bookshelf was all she was looking at.

“Look at me, Elara.”

It was the same command, but softer. A request woven into an order. Slowly, she turned on the stool. Now she was almost as tall as he was. His eyes were really dark. They were looking at her face. They were not looking at her in any other way but in a very tired and curious way. His eyes were searching her face with a lot of curiosity.

The thing that was going on in his eyes was a tired and curious thing and this was what she saw when she looked at him, at the way he was looking at her.

“Yesterday,” he began, then stopped. He seemed to be choosing each word with immense care. “I spoke as a man. I touched you as a man. I… regret the confusion it may have caused.”

“There was no confusion,” she said, the words leaving her before she could cage them.

His eyebrow lifted. “No?”

His fingers touched a strand of her hair that was hanging down the one that always came loose. He slowly put it back behind her ear. The soft part of his thumb touched her ear. It was such a personal touch that her whole body stopped moving.

"No confusion," he said again his voice very quiet and deep. His hand did not move away. It stayed close, to her skin, almost touching her.

"Then what was it?"

“It was honest,” She whispered it so quietly.

The words just stayed there between them. They were really fragile. They said a lot.

He looked down at her mouth.

The library was completely quiet, like a tomb and the only sound was her heart beating really fast.

She could smell the scent of his shaving soap and his expensive wooled clothes. There was something else, something that was just him, a man.

“Honest,” He said the word honest again like he was trying to understand what it really meant. Then his hand found the side of her face. His hand was warm and a little rough.

This was the hand of a duke. The Duke’s hand is used to holding a sword. But the Duke’s hand was now touching something that was forbidden, something that the duke should not touch.

“What about this?”

“Also honest.”

A shiver ran down his spine and his eyes shut for a moment and when they opened again the tired curiosity was gone, replaced by a fierce passion that took her breath away. "God help me " he breathed. It didn't sound like a prayer. It sounded like he was giving in.

He kissed her.

The kiss was rough. It was like he was claiming her. His mouth was hot and demanding on hers one hand still holding her face the hand slipping to the back of her neck holding her in place. She made a sound, the sound was swallowed by his kiss. Her hands shot up not to push him away but to grab his jacket. The stool wobbled under her.

He stopped kissing her his breathing ragged. "Tell me to stop, " he begged.

She couldn't say it. The words wouldn't come. She shook her head, her lips feeling swollen and sensitive.

He made a hungry sound and kissed her again deeper this time. His tongue swept into her mouth. A surge of heat went straight to her core. She melted into the kiss into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

This was the fire his touch on the ladder had promised. This was the conflagration.

He pulled her off the stool. Her body slid against his until her feet touched the floor. He walked her backward until her shoulders hit the bookshelf. It was an impact because his hand was cushioning her head. He kissed her deeply, his hips pressed into hers. She felt the hard length of him against her belly.

Her body reacted to him. She felt a wet sensation between her legs. It was embarrassing but she could not deny it. She made a sound into his mouth it was a sound she had never made before.

He stopped kissing her mouth. Started kissing her jaw and throat. His teeth scraped against her skin where her heart was beating fast. "You feel that?" he said against her skin. His voice was full of desire. "That is what you do to me every time you walk into a room every time you say 'Your Grace', with that mouth."

His hand let go of her neck sliding down to her side moving over the rough fabric of her maid uniform. It stopped at the curve of her hip, grabbing it and pulling her closer to him. She let out a cry.

"And this " he mumbled, as his other hand started to untie the laces at the front of her dress. His fingers were quick and sure as they began to loosen them.

"This is what I do to you, " he said.

She felt scared and excited at the time it was all very confusing. "The door, " she said.

"I locked it when you came in " he replied, his words muffled as he kissed her collarbone and pushed her dress open revealing her underclothes. The cool air, in the library hit her skin making her n*****s get hard. He looked at her his eyes burning with desire. Her simple underclothes did not hide how excited she was her n*****s were hard and visible.

He leaned down. Put his mouth over her n****e even though she was still wearing her underclothes. His mouth was hot and wet. She arched her back pushing against the shelf and let out a sob. The feeling was amazing. It went to the ache between her legs. He sucked gently at first, then went harder his tongue moving around her n****e and her knees gave way. If he was not holding her up she would have fallen.

"Alistair " she said, his name feeling forbidden and special.

He went utterly still. He lifted his head, his lips shiny and wet, his eyes were completely black with lust. “Say it again.”

“Alistair.”

A groan came out of his chest. He kissed her again. It was a passionate kiss and his hand moved from her hip to her belly and then down. He pulled up the skirts of her dress and the slip underneath and his fingers felt the skin on the inside of her thigh. She started shaking hard.

“Please,” she heard herself beg, out of nowhere she did not even know what she was asking for.

“I know,” he murmured, softly his breath was hot, on her lips. His fingers moved up higher through the hair and then he touched her. He did it slowly with just one slow stroke through her slick folds.

It felt really good.

Her eyes rolled back. The sensation was too much. She was embarrassingly wet, open for him. He made a sound of pure male satisfaction. “So honest,” he muttered with his fingers circling the aching nub at her entrance.

She was breathing hard and could not help but make these little sounds.

Her hips were moving on their own, they were going against the way his hand was moving because she really wanted more of what he was doing.

He gave her what she wanted, touching her firmly and moving his hand in a rhythm that felt really good.

That feeling inside her was getting stronger and stronger.

The only things she could think about were his hand and the way his mouth moved on her shoulder and his hard little brother that is pressed against her hip.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice ragged. “I want to see you.”

She made herself open her eyes. She felt like she was drowning in the way he was looking at her.

He was watching her lose control and his face showed that he was feeling a lot of pleasure but with a lot of pain too at the same time.

The feeling inside her was getting closer and closer to the edge.

She was there shaking and about to let go.

Then there was a knock at the library door that startled them.

They froze.

"Your Grace?" The stewards' voice was polite and clear, cutting through the silence like a splash of water. "A message has arrived from Lord Carrington. He insists it is urgent, regarding the… nuptial contracts.”

The words were like a shock making Alistair's happy moment shatter. His eyes closed tight. A muscle in his jaw started twitching. For a moment he didn't move, his forehead still against hers, his finger still touching her wet shaking skin. The excitement inside her faded, leaving an aching feeling.

Slowly he took his hand away. The loss felt physically cold. He stepped back, putting a distance between them. His face went blank, the passion gone, replaced by his unreadable duke's mask. He turned around, fixed his clothes and moved stiffly.

"Wait a moment Mr. Higgs " he called out his voice steady, cold and calm.

Elara stood by the bookcase her dress undone, her body still buzzing with unmet need, feeling exposed and shattered. She tried to fix her laces. Her fingers were numb and clumsy.

He didn't look back. "Finish working on the folio Elara " he said, using her name like a goodbye. "Then you can go for the evening."

She managed to say, "Yes, Your Grace " though it came out choked.

He walked to the door, unlocked it and left without looking back. The door shut with a click leaving her alone in the library. The memory of his touch still burned on her skin and the word 'nuptials’ echoed in the space where her heartbeat kept beating nonstop.