Stolen by the Cursed Duke (Stolen by the Duke #3)

Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

T he carriage had barely stopped when Magnus reached for Charlotte, his large hand enveloping hers with a firm yet unspoken urgency.

He didn’t wait for the footman to lower the step or offer assistance; instead, he guided her down himself, his grip never faltering as he pulled her close.

The moment her feet touched the gravel, he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss so fierce it made her gasp. Charlotte clutched at his lapels, her body molding instinctively against his.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was warm against her cheek. “You’ve been torturing me the entire ride home,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers through her.

“Torturing you?” she repeated, feigning innocence despite the flush spreading across her cheeks. “All I did was sit there. And besides, it serves you right for sending me away in the first place.”

He narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into that dark smirk she had come to love.

“Sitting there with that dress pulled just low enough to drive me mad, your skirt half-hitched around your thighs,” he growled. “You knew exactly what you were doing, putting yourself on display for me like the wanton hussy you are.”

Charlotte arched a brow, a playful glint in her eye. “I was simply trying to be comfortable,” she said sweetly. “It’s not my fault if you lack self-control.”

“Self-control?” Magnus’ voice was a dangerous purr as he pulled her closer, his hand splaying possessively against her lower back. “You think I’m interested in restraint when it comes to you? You had your chance to escape, and you foolishly came back to me.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but his lips crashed down on hers again, silencing her with a kiss that left her dizzy.

When he pulled back, his gaze was heated, his eyes dark and unrelenting. She had no desire to escape though her heart beat anxiously at the thought of what he would do to her.

“Magnus,” she managed, breathless but grinning. “We’re still outside.”

“Then let’s go inside,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Unless you’d like the staff to witness what happens next. I have no qualms about that.”

Her cheeks flamed at the implication though a thrill coursed through her at his intensity. “That might be a little too scandalous, even for us,” she teased, her voice lighter though her pulse thundered in anticipation.

Magnus’s smirk deepened, a wicked edge to his smile. “You enjoy scandal more than you let on.”

Before she could deny it, he grasped her hand and led her toward the grand doors of Thornvale. The staff must have anticipated their arrival; the butler stood ready to open the door, his expression carefully neutral though his cheeks had paled.

“Your Grace—” the butler began, only to be cut off by Magnus’ curt growl.

“Later,” Magnus snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument, his eyes never leaving Charlotte.

The butler stepped aside quickly, his eyes darting to Charlotte as if seeking clarification. She could only shrug, her lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter as he quickly looked away. But that laughter turned to a breathless gasp when Magnus pulled her into the grand foyer and spun her around, his hands gripping her waist.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused though his own amusement glinted in his eyes.

“Just a little,” she admitted, biting her lip to stifle her grin. “I don’t see why you’re so flustered. You’re usually so composed, Your Grace.”

Magnus let out a low laugh, leaning in until his breath was hot against her ear. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me lose my composure. Do you know what that does to me?”

Her heart raced, but she wasn’t ready to let him win so easily. “I suppose you’ll just have to show me,” she said, her tone daring.

His answer was immediate. He slid one hand to the small of her back and crushed her against him, his other hand tilting her chin up so their lips met again in a kiss that left no doubt about his intentions.

Her knees nearly buckled, but his hold was unyielding, his strength a reminder that she was entirely at his mercy—and, strangely, she didn’t mind.

A startled cough from the hallway broke the moment, and they turned to see a young maid standing awkwardly near the staircase, her face a picture of mortified surprise.

“Out,” Magnus barked, his deep voice echoing through the room.

The maid scurried away, her cheeks blazing, and Charlotte couldn’t suppress a laugh this time. “You’re going to frighten the entire staff.”

“They’ll survive,” Magnus said darkly, his hand already undoing the top button of his coat. “But you won’t if you keep testing me.”

“Is that a promise?” she quipped, her breath hitching as his cloak fell to the floor, forgotten.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he muttered, taking her hand and practically dragging her toward the staircase.

The determination in his stride was matched only by the fire in his gaze, and Charlotte’s own pulse quickened in response. She felt like a match held too close to a flame, ready to ignite at any moment.

As they ascended the stairs, she began tugging at the fastenings of his cravat, her fingers deft despite their urgency.

“You’re quite impatient,” she teased though her own movements betrayed her eagerness.

“And you’re entirely too distracting,” Magnus countered, pulling her closer as they reached the landing.

He spun her around, his hands already working to loosen her gown, and her laughter bubbled up, mingling with the crackling tension between them.

By the time they reached the door to their chambers, her dress was slipping precariously off her shoulders, and his shirt hung open, exposing the chiseled planes of his chest.

Magnus didn’t bother with subtlety; he kicked the door open with enough force to send it crashing against the wall. The sound barely registered as they stumbled inside, a tangle of limbs and shared urgency, the world outside forgotten.

“Magnus,” Charlotte whispered, her voice breathless and filled with anticipation as he guided her toward the bed.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers in a fleeting caress.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as she met his gaze, her words a promise and a plea all at once. “I love you.”

His response was a growl, low and feral, before his lips claimed hers once more, sealing them in a kiss that spoke of passion, need, and the unspoken vows they had yet to fully understand. As their shared urgency consumed them, they tumbled onto the bed together, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance.

The soft thud of Charlotte’s back meeting the plush mattress sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her.

Magnus hovered above her, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light as he studied her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His eyes burned with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something that sent her pulse racing even faster.

Love.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and rough, filled with a possessiveness that sent a thrill down her spine.

Charlotte arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile despite the heat rising in her cheeks. “So you keep reminding me.”

Magnus leaned down, his breath fanning over her lips as he grinned darkly. “Because I never want you to forget.”

His hands moved with deliberate slowness, slipping the gown from her shoulders and exposing the soft skin beneath. His fingers trailed down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and Charlotte couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped her lips.

“Magnus…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of need and nervous excitement.

He paused, his gaze locking onto hers. For a moment, the fiery dominance in his expression softened, replaced by something almost tender. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I have hurt you before,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as if the admission cost him something. “I don’t intend to hurt you again.”

Charlotte’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in his words, and she reached up to thread her fingers through his dark hair.

“You’ve already made amends,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “And I’m here, Magnus. I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, the edges softened with relief. “Good girl.”

With that, the fire reignited in his eyes, and he moved with renewed purpose, his lips finding hers in a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

His hands slid to her waist, gripping her firmly as he pulled her closer, their bodies molding together as if they were two halves of the same whole.

Charlotte felt herself melt into him, her hands roaming across the broad expanse of his chest, the hard muscles beneath her fingers a reminder of his strength. But it wasn’t just his physical presence that overwhelmed her—it was the way he looked at her, the way his touch seemed to say everything he couldn’t put into words.

She moaned softly against his lips, her body arching into his as the tension between them grew unbearable. Magnus’ answering growl sent a thrill through her, and he wasted no time in ridding them both of the remaining barriers between them.

Clothes fell to the floor in a forgotten heap, and the cool air against her skin was quickly replaced by the heat of his body.

When he paused, his gaze roving over her with a hunger that made her cheeks flush, Charlotte reached up to cup his face.

“Magnus,” she whispered, her voice filled with both urgency and reassurance, “I love you.”

“Enough,” he growled.

To her surprise, he grabbed hold of her waist and flipped her over so that she lay on her front. He climbed onto the bed, knees either side of her, and took both her wrists in his hand.

He pinned her to the bed with one hand while the other roamed over her body, free to do whatever it pleased.

His hot mouth followed, trailing her flesh and making her shudder, while his fingers probed between her legs, gentle but insistent. She groaned into the bedsheets, biting down on the blanket as she pushed her backside toward him, silently pleading.

He seemed to understand her plea. He rubbed the flat of his hand over her bare behind then suddenly pulled his hand back and let it fall onto her flesh.

She jumped in surprise, letting out a squeak at the sharp pain, followed by a moan of delight as she squirmed beneath him.

He pushed his finger between her thighs then shook his head. “You clearly need more preparing,” he said, and the sterility of it excited her further, as if she were an object he was using and nothing more.

He lay on top of her, his weight pushing down, securing her. His manhood dug into her hip, slick and hard and ready, and she pushed herself further into him.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied. He twitched, growling at her use of the formality.

“You are far better behaved in bed than anywhere else,” he muttered, and she could hear the amused smirk in his voice. “You really are wanton, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say the words,” he said as he rubbed her behind again.

“I am wanton, Your Grace.”

He raised his hand, landing a flat palm against her. Her head reared, a cry escaping her lips, and Magnus laughed.

“Now you’re ready,” he said.

He didn’t allow her to move or to turn. Instead, he parted her legs with his knee and pushed himself inside her. She gasped at the size of him, at the strength of him, as he began to move, his weight still on top of her.

He lay close to her as he thrust in a gentle rhythm, kissing her cheek, her neck, brushing her hair away from her face. He whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

“You are mine, Charlotte. And I love you so very much. Never forget that.”

Magnus’ movements slowed as he pressed his lips to Charlotte’s neck, his breath coming in warm, uneven bursts against her flushed skin. He shifted his weight, pulling back just enough to roll them both onto their sides.

His arms enveloped her, drawing her close against his chest as their breaths mingled, the fevered intensity of the moment giving way to something gentler, something deeper.

Charlotte turned her head, her cheek resting against his shoulder as she met his gaze. His eyes were no longer dark with possessive fire but softened with an emotion that made her heart clench. She reached up, her fingers brushing against his jawline, tracing the curve of his cheek as if memorizing every detail.

“I love you,” she whispered again. Now that the words had been said once, she couldn’t stop saying them.

Magnus’ hand slid up her back, tangling in her hair as he pressed his forehead to hers. “And I love you,” he murmured. “I never thought I could love someone like this, not until you.”

Charlotte shifted to face him fully, her fingers threading through his dark hair as she studied him in the dim light. His features, usually so composed and controlled, were unguarded, his walls completely lowered for the first time.

“You’re not alone anymore, Magnus,” she said softly, her voice steady, her heart finally calm. “Whatever happens, whatever shadows you carry, we’ll face them together.”

Magnus exhaled slowly, his grip tightening as though he feared she might disappear. “You’re stronger than I ever deserved,” he admitted, his lips brushing against her temple. “Stronger than I ever imagined.”

Charlotte smiled, leaning into his touch as her own hand slid to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

“And you’re braver than you think,” she replied. “You just needed to let someone in.”

His lips curved into a smile, and he tilted her chin upward, capturing her lips in a kiss that was as tender as it was passionate. It wasn’t the urgency of earlier but a deliberate, lingering connection that spoke of everything they had shared and everything they had yet to experience together.

When they finally pulled apart, Magnus rested his forehead against hers, his hand cupping her face with a reverence that made her heart swell.

“You’ve changed everything,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I thought I was protecting myself by keeping you at a distance, but all I did was hurt the one person who means the most to me.”

Charlotte pressed a kiss to his palm, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “And now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Now,” Magnus said, his tone resolute as he pulled her even closer, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

She smiled, her fingers tightening around his as she nestled into his embrace.

The world outside their bedroom seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving only the two of them entwined, their hearts beating in quiet harmony.

And for the first time, Charlotte felt truly at peace, wrapped in the arms of the man who had finally found the courage to love her.