Deepest Desires of a Wicked Duke(40)
Foolish, useless jealousy.
“Not tonight, Sadie,” Sinclair said.
Astonished relief flooded Portia. A silly emotion to have, when she knew this was his world, and before she could respond, a hand snaked around her waist.
“I’m going to claim this little temptress,” rumbled a husky, masculine voice. A voice that didn’t belong to the Duke of Sinclair. “Tonight this luscious mystery woman is going to be shared by Sin and me.”
“The lucky cow,” Sadie whined, again bestowing a bovine comparison.
Portia was struck dumb. She couldn’t have heard that right. Portia whirled around just as Sinclair hauled the hand of the Duke of Saxonby off her hip.
“What in hell are you doing, Sax?” he rumbled. “She’s mine. Keep your hands off her.”
Saxonby moved closer to Sinclair, who had curled his black-gloved right hand into a fist. Fury emanated from his dark brown long-lashed eyes. Heavens, she hadn’t expected a fight to break out over her.
Lowering his voice so no one but the three of them could hear, Saxonby said, “You told me she’d been kidnapped and brought here. My goal was to remove her from a potentially ruinous situation. Or do you want her to take part?”
“No, I damn well do not. But it’s my duty to protect her.”
Portia did not appreciate the two tall dukes speaking over her head. “It is not anyone’s duty to do that,” she whispered, “especially when I cannot trust anyone here.”
“You don’t trust Sin?” The Duke of Saxonby frowned, black brows drawing together.
“I do not yet know, Your Grace. He tells me he had nothing to do with my kidnapping. I would like to believe him—and there is much evidence he is telling the truth. But I can’t be too trusting.”
She saw Sinclair flinch.
Bu what did he expect? He had broken her heart once, and she’d never seen it coming.
Still, the argument was strong for his innocence. If the Duke of Sinclair had nefarious plans for her innocence, wouldn’t he have done something by now?
Or would he, now the orgy was starting? Maybe when the orgy started, everything would change....
Both men had positioned themselves so she could not see past them. As she stood more in the corner of the room, she couldn’t tell what was happening. What people were doing . . .
“You can also trust Saxonby,” Sinclair said. “I’ve known him since I went to Eton.”
“I have not, Your Grace, so I must reserve judgment.”
The Duke of Saxonby inclined his head. “She’s right there, Sin. You shouldn’t trust anyone, Miss Lamb.”
“It is ‘Love,’ ” she said.
“Pardon?” asked Saxonby.
“I am going by the name of Miss Love. And it is my hope to question these guests and find out who, if anyone, knew of my kidnapping. Find out if any of these people are involved.”
Saxonby frowned. “Willoughby,” he said. “This sounds like the kind of thing he would do. Willoughby is dangerous, Sin. You need to keep her away from him. If he had some warped idea of a wager, or cruel game, he could ruin Miss Lamb’s reputation. Or worse.”
“What do you mean—?” she began, but Sinclair growled.
“I know what Will is capable of. I will protect her.”
“Why don’t you take her upstairs, lock her in your room, and pursue Willoughby?” Saxonby asked. “That seems the most logical course of action.”
She opened her mouth to protest when Sinclair said, “Miss Love wants to see what this world is about. I give her about two minutes after the rutting begins to beg me to take her away from this.”
“She wants to watch?” Saxonby’s dark brows disappeared under his silvery hair.
Oh fie. They were making fun of her. “I suppose I wanted to see the world that lured away the man I might have married.”
She could not believe she was being so blunt. Certainly, when it came to rescuing children and running the foundling home, she was direct where needed. But she didn’t quite know where her courage was coming from.
“But you are an innocent,” Saxonby protested.
She was about to protest against his protest, when Sinclair said, “I hurt her a great deal and I have since discovered I stole many things from her.”
Saxonby frowned at him. “What are you talking about, Sin?”
“If she wants a little naughty voyeurism, I will allow it—and protect her. But I know you—” Sinclair turned to her. His lips looked soft and they turned down at the edges. It reminded her of how vulnerable he had looked as a nineteen-year-old, new to London and despised by his cousin, the Duchess of Sinclair. “You will discover very quickly what I took ten years to learn. This is athletic, but not all that arousing.”