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Standoff
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Italy With A Duke Crafty
One of Jay’s medics tended to Caitlyn’s injuries in the van on the drive back to Florence under Duke’s watchful eye. Beside her, Rachel fussed over her like a mother hen, periodically sparing a brief, blatantly hostile glance towards the smirking Jay, who eyed her like a predator does a particularly tasty snack. Shell-shocked and still fighting the effects of the drug in her system, Caitlyn stared sightlessly out the rear window. Duke knew her thoughts were a private fortress of hell that she’d built to protect the rest of them, but he also knew her well enough to know he couldn’t force her out of it. He’d have to lay siege, then gently coax her into negotiations to talk through her mental anguish. Still, he struggled with her silence, particularly after what she’d experienced and witnessed. “Darlin’? You okay?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing, the way he’d talk to a skittish horse. Her warm toffee eyes dilated and focused, and she stared at him,
Italy With A Duke Safe-keeping
“Caitlyn.” She must’ve fallen asleep because Duke’s low rumbling voice penetrated her consciousness through a sludgy haze, along with the recognition of the gradual slowing of the van they were traveling in. A soft groan escaped her as she opened her eyes—or at least mostly opened them. One had swollen nearly shut from the abuse she’d taken, and her head ached miserably with the residual of the drug in her system. She startled, flinching violently at the ruckus and chatter that ensued as the van stopped and the sliding door was flung open. “Dr. Maddox?” Jay extended a hand to her to help her out of the vehicle, staring at her with a quizzical expression when she refused to take it with a tight shake of her head. “Um. Duke?” Beside him, Rachel turned. “Caitlyn?” Caught in the irrational grip of fear, Caitlyn froze, sucking in air in shallow little hisses through her parted lips. Behind her, Duke gave a silent jerk of his head towards Jay. With
Italy With A Duke Widow
Tears welled in Caitlyn’s liquid caramel eyes and he could see her flinch as the salt stung the tender abrasions and cuts in her abused skin. Releasing her chin, he caressed her hair and brushed a light kiss against her forehead. “Never mind, darlin’. Whatever it is, it’ll wait. I’m here and I’m not leaving you. Not ever again.” Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she shook her head against his chest, too afraid to look up and confront the emotions in his eyes. “Be-before you commit to those things, you need to know,” she said quietly. His heavy man-sigh penetrated all the way to her heart, piercing and sharp. “What do I need to know?” “You heard—wh-what he said.” Wrapped in his arms as she was, she felt his simple nod. Duke had heard a few things—enough. At least for his own peace of mind. He couldn’t imagine there being more. Certainly nothing that he couldn’t reconcile his conscience to about Agent Richards or his former boss, Jantzi. “You h-heard what I—what I said?” “
Italy With A Duke Confession
Caitlyn sucked in a sharp breath through parted lips that ached from the splits in them. She wished she hadn’t said that—it had come out in the worst possible way and there was no way to reverse it. Her eyes squeezed shut, the swollen one shooting a lancing pain into her head. Pressing against Duke’s chest, she would have pulled away, but his arms tightened around her, refusing her escape. He shook his head. “No. Stay right where you are. I’ve spent three years watching you from a distance. In love with a woman that I wasn’t supposed to have. I’m tired of the space between us,” he told her in a harsh whisper, an edge to his voice that sent a shiver racing over her. “Whatever this is, Caitlyn. Whatever you’ve done, you need to tell me. That’s all I ask. And you need to know, whatever it is, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go.” “Duke, I—.” He silenced her protest with a kiss, tender against her abused lips despite the severity of his words. There was no
Italy With A Duke Guilty
Duke tucked his mouth up close at her ear. “If you’re guilty, Caitlyn, then so am I.” Her pulse quickened and her toes curled, a zinging tingle sweeping over her flesh as his breath stirred her hair, tickled across the whorl of her ear. “I don’t care about the right or wrong of it, darlin’. I can’t see beyond this minute. Or next week. All I can see is you. And you’re too good, Caitlyn. Too pure of heart and intention to ever maliciously hurt someone else.” “But Duke—,” she tried urgently, but he continued, his words spilling over his lips, across her trembling flesh. She turned her head into his shoulder, breathed in the clean, warm, distinctly male scent of him. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what you’ve done.” His mouth closed, warm and insistent, over the tip of one breast and she shuddered, her fingers diving into his hair. “But I’m afraid to lose you,” he assured her, moving to the taut tip of the opposite breast to pay its due. “I’m afraid to lose the love of my life
Italy With A Duke Interloper
Standing before the window in her darkened room, Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and peered into the nighttime murk beyond it. It all seemed still, quiet, exactly like any other remote forest ought to be. Except that every once in a while, she’d catch the brief flash of a tiny lamp—sometimes green, sometimes blue, most often red—and detect movement, and she knew that there were men out there patrolling. She heaved a deep sigh. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to come here. Reaching out, she fisted the heavy drapes at the sides of the tall, narrow window and jerked them sharply, pulling them closed. She pivoted in the dark, using the dim light through the remaining windows to guide her to the bedside. There, she turned and let herself fall backwards onto the mattress. Then again, the accommodations are a vast improvement over the cramped little hotel room. She stared up at the Murano glass chandelier in the center of the ceiling, glinting with multi-colore
Italy With A Duke Hostilities
Dex perched over the arm of a sofa so he could see down the long hallway that led to the bedrooms. He’d been appalled to watch Jay Ellis invite himself into Rachel’s bedroom, but was even more appalled when the man reemerged five minutes later, and after shutting the door behind him quietly, headed for the bar in the corner of the living area. “Goddamn, that woman is spicy,” Jay muttered appreciatively as he adjusted himself in his expensive slacks, a feral grin plastered over his face. Gritting his teeth, Dex suppressed his envy and watched as the other man poured himself a generous Scotch and tossed it back without so much as a flinch. Rachel was spicy—on that much they agreed—and it annoyed the hell out of him to think that this was the kind of man she’d settle for. “You want something, pretty boy?” At the bar, the other man refilled his drink. Dex arched a brow as his head swiveled towards Jay. The suit the man wore was Armani, and if he was any guess, probably as expensive as
Italy With A Duke Ghost
Duke’s brow furrowed at the question, one he doubted she’d like the answer for. “For the moment, I’d like you to rest and heal.” Beneath him, Caitlyn froze. “You said we were going home. What aren’t you telling me?” she asked in a dangerously soft voice. His long exhale of frustration tickled across her flesh, raising the delicate hairs along her neck and arms in alarm. “There’s nothing to tell, darlin’. We don’t yet know what we’re up against.” Caitlyn processed his statement in a soporific haze. She hurt. And her body was so tired that her exhaustion felt like a drug, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. From the little that she’d gleaned, both from her kidnappers and from Duke and her rescuers after, his statement made no sense. They’d taken out the rogue agents. They’d incapacitated the terrorist agents and turned them over to Interpol. “I thought—.” Her voice trailed off as an irrational panic fueled by fatigue washed over her. If this was l
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