Free The Duke's Revenge by Alexia Praks

door. “Do you hear?”
    She nodded without looking at him. She was
too tired now to fight him for she knew there would be more
fighting when she got home, with her mother.
    Max shouted at the driver to take them back
and not long afterward the carriage drew to a stop at the courtyard
of Michaels Mansion.
    Grace rushed out the house, her anger now at
its peak. Behind her was Lord McNeil. The old man who had just
arrived a few minutes before was heaving with exertion as he tried
to keep up with Grace.
    She stood watching as first Max came out of
the carriage and then Ivy. They were walking up the pathway toward
the house.
    “ Hello, Lady Westwood, we
did have a nice ride, did we not, Sweet Ivy?” Max said, looking at
the girl beside him.
    Ivy didn’t respond, just stood there staring
at the snow-covered steps, hugging herself and shivering.
    “ Eh? Who the hell is your
‘Sweet Ivy,’ eh?” Lord McNeil shouted. He was shaking from head to
toe. “Ivy is to be m’ bride, not yours,” he shouted. His voice
echoed in the vast courtyard.
    Max turned to the redheaded man. He narrowed
his eyes and raised his brows. “Ivy is to be your bride?”
    “ Indeed, she is,” Lord
McNeil shouted, his hands shaking.
    “ Ah...I presume you have
proposed to her then?” Max stared at the old crone. God, what nerve has he to interfere with his
plan?
    “ I have,” the old man
snapped.
    “ Did she agree to take
your old, wrinkle hands in marriage then?” Max narrowed his eyes,
looking from Lord McNeil and meaningfully to Grace.
    The woman met his gaze and shuddered. She
turned away.
    “ Well...” Lord McNeil
flustered in his spot.
    “ I presume she did not
accept, did she?” Max laughed. His timbre voice was loud that Ivy
turned to look at him.
    “ Well, she hasn’t yet,”
Lord McNeil stammered.
    “ Ah, that is too bad,
really, Mister, err,” Max raised his brows at the old
man.
    Lord McNeil frowned.
“Not mister , I am
an earl, ye bastard. A lord, ye hear. I am Lord Steven McNeil ye
get that name in ye head right.”
    “ Ah, Lord McNeil, is it?
Indeed, if you must know, Lord
McNeil , Sweet Ivy is my mistress.”
    Grace flashed her gaze to him in anger.
    Lord McNeil gasped and then he shook his
head. “Canno’ be true!”
    “ Oh yes, it is true,” Max
said, his voice loud and clear. “Isn’t that right, Ivy?”
    Ivy tilted her head up to look at him.
    At that moment, the sunlight illuminated her
features. Max felt his lust rushing up in his hot veins. He grabbed
her by the neck and kissed her lips. She was soft and sweet, like
honey.
    Ivy didn’t like the fact that he was kissing
her right in front of everyone. She brought her hands up to his
chest and pushed him away. Once he had lifted his head from hers,
she looked away and her gaze met with her mother’s. She saw the
other woman glaring at her. She wanted to die.
    “ Lady Westwood, look after
my young mistress very carefully. I wish her to be perfect ,” he said. He
was laughing inside when he saw the lady paled. He looked toward
Lord McNeil and saw that the old man had turned a scarlet red and
was shaking uncontrollably.
    Ivy shuddered. She couldn’t even stand that
he touched her in the carriage for fifteen minutes, so how could
she stand being with him for one whole night? God, one whole night
and mayhap more....
    “ Remember, Lady
Westwood, perfect , she needs to be perfect for me.” Ivy heard him say. She
turned and saw him strolling toward the coach, whistling a tune all
the while as if he had not a worry in the world. She looked at him
as he climbed into the carriage, and seconds later, he was
gone.
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 8
     
     
    Ivy looked around the room
that was appointed to her. It was very large and elegant; a room
that her Papa would have appointed to an important guest. She
wondered why he would put her up in his castle instead of a townhouse in
London like all his other mistresses before her.
    She got up and wondered to the wardrobe.