The Decadent Duke by Virginia Henley Page B

Hot desire rose up in him, and he had no inclination to control his hungry craving to possess the tempting beauty. His dark eyes licked over her creamy flesh like a candle flame.
    â€œYour sister informed me that you were ready for mischievous fun and games at the drop of a hat. I intend to put it to the test, little girl.”
    The tip of her tantalizing tongue touched her lips in a provocative gesture. “Nature provides the perfect setting for all sorts of exciting fun and games.”
    â€œI hereby warn you that I intend to make love to you.’’
    She tossed her saucy curls and challenged, ”You will be fighting an uphill battle.’’
    â€œI have the temperament for it.’’
    Georgina smiled into his eyes. “I have no doubt of it.’’
    John closed the distance between them and took the exquisite beauty into his arms. Just as he took possession of her sinfully tempting lips, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to stare into the face of his brother, Francis.
    My God, our roles are suddenly reversed. John stiffened, bracing himself for his brother’s fist to smash him in the jaw.
    To his amazement, Francis did not hit him. Instead he handed him a hundred guineas. “I lose. You win the wager, old man!’’
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John woke up in a sweat. It was a few minutes before he realized he was not in the woods, but in bed at Woburn. He was relieved that the episode was not real. It was only a dream. And yet he pondered why on earth he had dreamed such a thing. The part where he had smashed Francis in the jaw for his attempted ravishment of Georgina Gordon was explained easily enough. He had gone to bed angry with his brother for his prurient interest in the girl. What baffled him was his own seduction of Georgina.
    He put it down to the sexual drought he had endured for the past nine years. Perhaps unconsciously his physical needs had been transferred to his dream. That still doesn’t explain why Lady Georgina Gordon was the object of my desire. She is more child than woman. I’m fifteen years older than the girl. John grimaced. That’s why she calls me old man.
    Until nine years ago, John Russell had been a faithful husband. Since then, though he’d had an occasional slip, he had never taken a mistress. His friendship with Lady Sandwich had resulted in an intimate interlude upon rare occasions, but what he felt for widowed Lady Anne was affection and respect, rather than any deep-rooted passion.
    Because of his own lapse of infidelity, he had never condemned his brother’s multiple liaisons. Francis belonged to the inner circle of the Prince of Wales, and loose morals ran rampant in that crowd. Now, however, John felt disgust at his brother’s lecherous interest in young unwed girls. When Francis revealed that he had bedded Lady Louisa Gordon, John had been thoroughly shocked. A picture of Louisa and Georgina Gordon flashed into his mind. The Gordon daughters have been brought up in a most unconventional manner. Perhaps Jane Gordon has urged them to go to any lengths to trap wealthy, noble husbands. Perhaps the little honeypots have been taught that beauty and promiscuity are an irresistible combination. The thought angered him further.
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The following morning, after breakfast, John made a suggestion. “Why don’t we have a game of tennis on that grand indoor court of yours, Francis? A game of doubles will be good practice for the boys.”
    â€œI’m glad you suggested it, John. My namesake and I will take on you and William. What do you say, Francis?”
    â€œThat sounds jolly good, sir, if you have the patience to play with a rank amateur.”
    â€œYour youthful vigor will make up for your lack of expertise.”
    They all went along to the indoor tennis court, and Johnny offered to retrieve the balls. They tossed a coin for first serve, which Francis lost.
    John smiled with anticipation and allowed his fierce anger