Page 246 of Dukes for Dessert

He nibbled her lip. “Why would that work? No one wants to slam into a wall.”

“You’re the one who reads gothic novels,” she reminded him between kisses. “Why would exposing my bosom by ripping open my bodice ever work? Stays are lined with whalebone.”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t win a fight against a whale?” He ran his hands down her back and splayed his fingers against her ribs.

She wished his fingers would keep exploring. “I’m saying no one has ever won a fight with a corset.”

“Then you should definitely stop wearing them.” He picked her up and swung her over to the sofa, tumbling backward so that she was the one on top. The one in control of whatever happened next.

She ran the pad of her thumb across the very beginnings of stubble along the edge of his jaw. “Azureford?”

“Adam,” he corrected, and touched her nose with his. “And you are?”

“Carole.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

He kissed her so well and for so long that she almost forgot what she’d been going to say.

“Were you going to ask me something?” he murmured.

“I was going to tell you something.” She pushed up on his chest in order to meet his eyes, and did her best to muster up a good glare. “You led me to believe you were bad at this.”

He grinned and kissed her again. “I’m enjoying this, too. It’s different with you. I can be me and you can be you and none of it matters, since no one has to know.”

For another woman, that last bit might have hit like a bucket of water. But the truth was, Carole had been thinking the same things. She had told him the truth. She wasn’t going to marry. He had been equally honest. He needed a bride and it couldn’t be her.

In the meantime, whatever happened between them, stayed between them. Resigning herself to the life of a spinster did not mean she had to turn down moments like these. Until he left for good, this room would be their playground.

Just as she was dipping her head for another kiss, she caught sight of the clock out of the corner of her eye. She sprang up as if galvanized.

“Damn and blast.” She shoved a fallen chunk of hair back into her bun and tried to shake the wrinkles from her skirt. At Adam’s startled expression, she explained, “My father exits his study one time a week, and that time is… approximately five minutes ago. I have to go.”

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her reticule and dashed out the door.

“Blast blast blast,” she cursed as she raced toward her cottage.

There was no telling what might happen if Father walked into the billiard room and she wasn’t there. He wasn’t the sort to go looking for her. He might assume she was no longer interested and cease coming down from his study altogether. She would never see him again.

She skidded through the corridor, dodging questions from the housekeeper and the chambermaid and the—devil take it, why did everyone pick right now to become inexplicably incompetent at their jobs?

When she burst into the billiard room at last, her father was just chalking his cue.

She nearly collapsed in a puddle in relief.

“Father.” She took a deep breath. “I think you should know—”

“The le Ducs will be here at any moment,” he interrupted. “The butler forgot to iron the baize. Can you take care of it?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes, Father. Of course.”

So much for having a private father-daughter tete-a-tete. That had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Now she had work to do. The butler hadn’t ironed the baize because Carole hadn’t been here to tell him to. That was her responsibility. Everything in this household was. She sighed in resignation. This cottage would fall down around them if she wasn’t there to keep it propped up.

She could never leave.

10

As much as he might have wished to, Adam did not greet Carole at the door with a kiss. He waited the full ten seconds for her maid to disappear with his butler, and then swung her into his arms.

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