Read To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) for Free Online Page B

the marquess groaned at the sensation. His hands fell to her head, spanning her skull and holding her firmly in place.
    He took a deep breath, his chest heaving with the effort. Trevor gave himself up to the passion, reasoning that if he brought Melody to whimpering pleasure, rode her hard and long, she would fall deeply asleep, and then he would be able to make his escape in blissful silence.
     
     
    “You are late.”
    Forcing himself to a civility of tone he was far from feeling, Trevor replied calmly, “Yes, I am. Would you like me to leave?”
    He struck a casual pose and waited. Trevor’s father, the Duke of Warwick, flicked a chilly gaze over his son.
    “Sit down,” the duke commanded after only a brief hesitation. “It has already taken you three days to answer my summons. If you leave now, lord only knows when you will see fit to return.”
    Deciding it would be in his best interests not to provoke the duke further, Trevor complied, though he wondered at his father’s fairly mild response. In the past, a battle of wills between the duke and his heir would not have been so easily conceded.
    Yet as he settled himself in an upholstered gilt chair near the blazing fire, Trevor remained wary. Though he saw his father rarely, it seemed each time he did, the duke was increasingly ill-tempered and petulant.
    “The weather is exceedingly fine this afternoon,” Trevor said conversationally. “I noticed many green buds on the trees as I rode through Hyde Park. Perhaps we shall have an early spring.”
    “I did not ask you here to discuss the damned weather!” The duke cast him a glare that would have withered a lesser man, but Trevor returned the stare with equal measure.
    “I was merely trying to engage in polite conversation,” Trevor said evenly. “We speak so rarely I thought it might be refreshing to begin our discussion on a civil note for a change.”
    The duke grunted. “You’re a fine one to be speaking of civility and polite conversation. Those ruffians and reprobates you spend your days and nights carousing with wouldn’t know a civil discussion if it came up and bit them on the arse.”
    “And therein lies the essence of their charm,” Trevor replied. He settled himself back against his chair, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. No matter how cruelly provoked this afternoon, the marquess was determined not to be baited.
    “Have you eaten?”
    Trevor blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. A grumble from his empty stomach gave the answer before the marquess could voice it, and the duke nodded his head in understanding.
    Instead of ringing for a servant, the duke walked to the door and opened it. A footman stationed outside snapped to attention. “Tell Cook the marquess is hungry. I want a meal served to him here within the hour. A combination of hot and cold dishes will be fine, but make certain to include a lemon cake for dessert. ’Tis his lordship’s favorite.” The duke glanced back at Trevor. “And tell Harper to bring up another bottle of wine.”
    The servant bowed deeply and rushed off to do his master’s bidding.
    “Thank you, sir,” Trevor said cautiously. He suspected his father had ulterior motives for demonstrating such benevolent concern, but surprisingly his suspicion left Trevor feeling a distinct sense of guilt. “I find that I am rather hungry.”
    “I doubt you can remember the last time you had a decent meal,” the duke grumbled as he crossed the room to stand near Trevor’s chair. “I don’t know why you insist upon living in those squalled rooms on St. James Street when you have a perfectly fine home right here.”
    “My quarters are hardly squalid,” Trevor replied. “Especially if one takes into account the substantial rent I pay. More importantly, the size and location of my rooms suit my needs perfectly. I want for nothing else.”
    “I still say it is unnatural to prefer them to all of this,” the duke proclaimed, lifting his hand in a