The Duke And His Mate

Chapter-6 Escaping

Maxwell just couldn't believe in himself. He walked out like that, from a room full of people. But tonight tested his patience and control in a way nothing and no one ever has. Even though he was unspeakably annoyed with himself, at the same time, he was also a little proud that, given the havoc that broke out inside him, he still managed to hold on without creating too big a scene. However, he did make a mess that he had no idea how to sort out.

"Your grace?" The flirtatious female voice distracted him and Maxwell sullenly turned his eyes to the woman in front of him, splayed over on the bed.

She looked excited and, as always, there was that fascinating look in her eyes that he loathed. It was just a handsome face. Nothing more. Abruptly, he remembered the way those blue eyes gazed back at him, completely lost and enraptured. The memory made his insides go heavy with the sudden, intense longing that he had been trying to ward off all evening. A longing so potent that it baffled the wits out of him.

"Do you like it here, your grace?"

Maxwell closed his eyes and took a deep breath, adamant to fight off the feeling of that soft voice, her intoxicating sweet scent, and the depth of innocence that almost stripped him of his own being with just one look. There was something very wrong with that girl. He needed to stay absolutely clear of her. But it was exceedingly hard because the opposition from within him was really strong. And stubborn.

"Is something the matter, your grace?" The woman asked, looking lost now. She had long dark hair that was let loose and fell in a heap of curls around her slender shoulders. She was beautiful. But then women like her usually were. That's why they charge six guineas a night.

"I need you to distract me," he said. The woman smiled, looking pleased, and, moving closer, she took his hand and pulled him down on the bed.

"Now, that is absolutely what I do the best," She whispered, her dark eyes gazing back at him seductively. As always, he had no clue what to say. Conversation wasn't one of his greatest strengths either.

"Then I would like you to get on with it," Maxwell answered. "And please, pardon me if I get a little er rough," She stared at him, looking a little lost, and then laughed. He had no idea why that was amusing. He wasn't playing with her. Control was very tough for him in all aspects of his life, even when it came to pleasure. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt her in any manner.

"Believe me, your grace, you are not the only one," She said, sounding a little wry.

"Your money?" Maxwell asked, shuffling into his pocket. But before he could, she stopped him and shook her head.

"No money from you," She smiled, leisurely unbuttoning his shirt, her eyes darkening as she started to reveal him to her eyes. "It's an honor to be able to serve you in any way, your grace,"

Maxwell snorted inwardly. Like everyone else, she was also getting caught up in his exterior. If she got the slightest inkling about who he was, she would be ready with a dagger to kill him. The thought made him wry. Unaware of his thoughts, her dark eyes roamed down his torso before landing on his lips. He knew where she was going with that look. He had enough experience by this point to understand those subtle hints.

"Don't touch me," Maxwell said politely before she could get any closer. "If possible," She looked surprised at his words, even a little disappointed, but then slowly nodded.

He knew she must be thinking what a big fool he was. But just like many of his shortcomings, this was one of them. He detests anyone getting too close to him as much as he detests having impersonal conversations. Especially when he was in a stranger's company. And to him, almost the entire world, including himself, was nothing less than a stranger.

Except for her...

Maxwell scowled inwardly and turned his eyes to the woman instead. He had no idea why she was taking so long. He was paying her to distract him, but so far, he was the one doing that with all his errant thoughts. All he needed was his release. The tension that had been building inside of him all night long was just becoming too much for him.

He was incredibly inclined to just throw her down on the bed and sink into her rather than chitchat, but remembering his manners and how pathetic his self-control was, he refrained.

"What would you like me to do then?" She asked softly, caressing his cheek with her long fingers. Did she not get what he meant by no touching?

"I told you...I needed you to distract me," he replied flatly. She smiled again and moved back. Keeping her eyes on him, she slipped the sleeve of her gown down her slender shoulders slowly. She wasn't wearing anything elaborate like he saw the women wearing at the ball. It was rather flowy and he would add, scanty. Not to mention the blatant lack of underclothes.

"Is this distracting enough?" She asked in her breezy voice. Maxwell stared down at her stripped form, his eyes raking down her curvaceous lines, and he wasn't sure if it was. It was most definitely not enough to distract him from the torment of those blue -eyes.

"You are beautiful," he added anyway, inwardly cringing at how blank he sounded. There was no conviction in his voice. And it wasn't like she was not attractive. But somehow his understanding of that word seemed to have taken an extremely unwanted turn this evening. The thought annoyed him.

Why did she have to run into him of all the people? And why does she have to be Benedict's sister? It just made her all the more exquisite and forbidden. And all the harder for him to push her out of his brain.

"Your grace?" He turned his eyes to her and she seemed a little disappointed. Obviously, distracting him was turning out to be more challenging than she expected it to be.

"I want you down on the bed," Maxwell ordered, done with the playing around. If he thought any more about her tonight, he would go insane. "Right now, " She looked amused and, nodding her head, did as he asked. She gazed up at him expectantly, parting her legs, and giving him a wicked smile. Standing up, he kept his eyes locked on her as he removed the rest of his clothing, baring himself to her eager eyes.

"Oh my lord," She murmured, undeniably fascinated again. Ignoring her comment, he leaned over her, and grabbing both her hands, he pinned them down over her head with his. That would ensure the no-touching part.

"Stop me if I get...out of control," he said, his voice sounding breathless with need. She nodded again and closing his eyes, he plunged into her, his other hand scrunching up the bedsheet furiously as he tried to hold himself back and not hurt her. Pleasure flowed through his body, fogging everything else and making him relax as the memories of the blue eyes and meadow-like scent faded away.

She groaned loudly, throwing her head back as he kept on pounding into her. The faster the pleasure began to build, the faster his control started to slip. Maxwell kept reminding himself that she was a human and there was no way she could match his animalistic pace. A long time ago, he ended up accidentally hurting a woman and that was not something he would like to reminisce about or repeat. He pinched his eyes tightly shut and all his senses coiled tighter and tighter, preparing for the release he needed.

"Harder," She moaned, and as much as he wanted exactly that, he couldn't. He didn't trust himself. Maxwell groaned, his lungs fighting furiously for air. He knew he was close so he quickly pulled out and reached for his handkerchief, almost sagging down on the bed with relief as he found his release. He closed his eyes and lay silently until he could find his equilibrium back. When he opened his eyes, she gazed down at him, looking impressed somehow.

"Was that distracting enough, your grace?" She asked, reaching out to touch him. Maxwell grabbed her hand and slowly shook his head before letting go softly.

"Yes, thank you," he replied politely. "If it is not too much to ask, may I bed here tonight?" She blinked at him, looking surprised, and then nodded, looking pleased.

"It would be an honor," She smiled. "And if you need any more distraction, I will be at your service all night."

"Thank you," Maxwell murmured gratefully. There was no way he was going back home tonight. After the blunder he made back then, his aunt was going to have some words for him. Instead, he settled down comfortably on the bed and closed his eyes. And as he slowly drifted off, exhausted by the insanity that took place tonight, he hoped to god that there wouldn't be any blue eyes haunting him in his sleep. He had enough of whatever happened back then to last him a lifetime.

Maxwell's eyelids felt extremely heavy as he reluctantly opened his eyes, and jolted awake because of some absurd dream. He blinked and found himself in a sparsely furnished room, splayed over a moderately sized bed. Where was he again? He felt something on his stomach and gazed down to see a hand resting on his stomach. Naked stomach.

And hand?

Cautiously, he turned his eyes around and peered with a startled astonishment at the unknown woman sleeping beside him. A naked woman was sleeping beside him. She had pale skin and black hair and...that was it. Maxwell gazed at her for a long moment until last night came hurling into his memory.

"I am extremely sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Fitzgerald. But I don't dance. Hope you understand,"

"I need you to distract me..."

Oh, dear...

Maxwell sat up and threw the satin sheet away from him as he blankly rubbed his face. He lost it again. But again, in his defense, last night got too much for him. For someone who never had friends, was never allowed into the society, and was kept locked up half his life in a cold, dark dungeon while the other half was spent hiding, it was a m******e last night. And that blue-eyed girl just made it worse.

The blue-eyed girl...

He sniffed and he could still smell her. The scent of flowers and something...something warm. It was the urge to get rid of this scent and all the havoc that caused inside him that brought him here even if it was not his plan. He still had no idea what happened back then. Why did she feel that way? Like he found the one his heart has been searching for all his life. Maxwell scowled at the corny nonsense and shook his head.

Silently, he got up and quickly got dressed before the lady woke up. He fumbled in his pocket, placed the money on the side table regardless of what she said, and walked out. It was still early in the morning and the city was just starting to come back to life. Another long day of endless appointments and a continuous battle to keep himself in control. He sighed, already feeling tired.

All these years he hated the duke with all his being. The man who was supposedly his father in front of everyone's eyes. But this last blow of his, Maxwell's hands tightened into a fist on his sides as fury started to overwhelm his senses once again. In all his honesty, he was glad that he was dead. Even though it was going to be a long, long time before he could let go of the dark memories that man evoked in him, he was relieved that he was gone now.

He cannot hurt him anymore.

"Where have you been?" Her voice was stern. Maxwell grimaced, exactly fearing this moment, and sullenly turned around. Lady Huntington's, his aunt's jolly demeanor seemed like it never existed as she appraised him with a cold look. Her green eyes were by no means dancing like they usually did.

"Good morning, my lady," Maxwell mumbled, giving her a nod. "I...went out for a morning stroll,"

"Went out?" Her aunt raised her brow. "You need to be in, to go out, Maxwell. And I know you haven't been home the entire night," Maxwell sighed and nodded his head.

"I have been out, yes, my apologies," he answered, and turning around, started to head to what was supposed to be his room, once again.

"Where do you think you are going, young man?" She admonished. "I want you to join me in the living room, right away," Maxwell scowled inwardly, but since there was no other option, he turned around and sullenly followed his aunt to her plushly decorated living room done in the hues of blues and whites.

"Sit," She ordered, pointing to the long chaise. As much as Maxwell hated anyone ordering him around, he respected his aunt enough to say anything, so like an obedient child, he settled down and waited for the sermon to begin.

"Do you know what a debacle you caused last night?" She demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "You walked out on two young ladies who hail from extremely remarkable families without as much giving a proper reason. Do you know how that presented you in front of everyone? I spoke so highly of you, all for what?"

"She...one of the twins, she asked me to dance abruptly," Maxwell argued. "What could I have done?"

"Dance with her?" Lady Huntington offered. "Did she ask you to court her or something? How hard could one harmless quadrille be?"

"Very hard," Maxwell retorted. "You know me. I am not comfortable being like this."

"Well, then you should learn starting from today," Lady Huntington said sternly. "Good heavens, Emelisse was there and didn't cause much of a scene. In fact, you should thank the young girl. She made up excuses for your less than acceptable behavior," Maxwell was a bit surprised. Why would she do that?

"I will formally apologize to both of them," Maxwell scowled. Especially Emelisse. She was, after all, Benedict's sister. And he was the only friend he had got. He cannot destroy their friendship just because he had been having a hard time staying away from his young sister since the first meeting.

"You should," his aunt agreed.

"Can I go now? I need to clean up and get dressed. I have affairs to attend. I am not here for fun," Maxwell grimaced. Lady Huntington blinked at him and then sighed.

"Maxwell, you do know why I wanted you to come here, particularly at this time?" She inquired, her voice comparatively softer.

"To make me pay for...I don't know, I must have done something to offend you," he said glumly.

"Amusing," She rolled her eyes. "Maxwell, you are the duke now. You are six and twenty years old. It is time you selected a bride for yourself. You need to provide the dukedom with an heir and a spare after all. It's one of your many responsibilities. And this is a perfect time. There is a cornucopia of amazing, beautiful young women. All you need to do is make a choice. Anybody would happily agree to marry you," Maxwell stared at her long and hard, his dark eyes hardening further before finally shaking his head.

"I am not going to get married," he answered at last. "Please, don't try to match me up, lest I will end up breaking a poor, young girl's heart," His aunt stared wide-eyed at him as if he had said that the sky was red and not blue.

"Not get married?" His aunt looked pale. "You are joking with me, aren't you?"

"No, I am perfectly serious. I am here to sort out my affairs. And I agreed to accompany you for your sake. That is all," he answered flatly, ardently fighting the hardness in his voice.

"Maybe you haven't found the right woman yet?" She offered expectantly. "I am sure when you do, your heart will change. You will feel it, you will want to be with her...you just need to look,"

"There's no woman in this world who could change my heart," Maxwell said firmly, and somewhere a part of him thoroughly refused to agree with that idea. And it was the first time that happened. He pushed that part of him away and gave his aunt a firm look.

"I will see you at breakfast," he said, and giving her a polite smile, he turned to head back to his room.

"Emelisse could be a brilliant choice," his aunt blurted out. "Her mother quite liked you. Her brother adores you. She is...sweet and sensible and a Featherstone, one of the most eligible families of the ton. She would definitely make a fine duchess. And she has a delicate beauty to her, don't you think?" Maxwell paused and the image of innocent blue eyes flooded through his head again. Along with the feelings that they evoked.

"Emelisse is the last person I would be interested in," he said, clenching his jaw as he fought the rational and irrational parts of his being, both ready to go to war with each other.

"She is my best friend's sister," he continued. "That's what she is. We are not having this conversation again, please, I insist," Without another word, he stumbled upstairs and straight to his room, slamming the door behind him. His aunt's words rummaged into his head and he felt annoyed to death. No way. He was never going down that lane. And no matter what he feels and no matter how hard the pull gets inside of him...

He was going to steer clear away from her at any cost...

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Glossary:

Quadrille- 18th and 19th century dance form.

Guinea - Old British currency/ gold coin