Page 21 of Good Duke Gone Cold

There was no hiding what he was doing, so he didn’t bother tucking himself back in. The best he could hope for was that his actions would be crass enough to scare her away to further than arm’s length, ideally a continents’ length away. Maybe she could take her play to America.

Eyes closed, he didn’t even ask, “Mary.”

“Gregory.” He could hear the tremble in her voice, yet she was doing her most to feign indifference.

He took the offensive. “What are you doing here? Looking to be entertained?”

“I…I…I come here to think. It has the nicest view.” She buried her blushing face in her knees and shook her head.

He wanted to laugh out loud at her unintentional double entendre, he would have done if she had been one of the ladies he previously kept company with, but he was sure she was about to cry. He reminded himself that he needed to keep her at arm’s length. If this was the only way, then so be it. “Yes, the view is certainly one of a kind.”

She jumped up. Finally, she would leave. “Oh you! You odious man. You are cold and uncaring. You have become crass and… and… mean.” Her cheeks were on fire and her fists were clenched at her sides. She was trembling. She was ready for battle, and although an amateur, she was shooting arrows.

That one word. If she hadn’t said that one word, he would have laughed. He could have dismissed her easily, embarrassedly, but easily. If only she hadn’t said that one word, he would have even admired her newfound warrior pose and encouraged her to fight.

It was petty, but he couldn’t let that one word go.

“Cold?” He barked out a laugh. “You think I’m cold. You think I’m doing this,” he emphasized his hold on his shaft, “because I’m cold?”

She was shocked out of words.

“I’m doing this” he enunciated every word, “because I’m on fire.”

She gasped.

He shot her a look containing all the fire stoked in his cells, “And I have no other means of putting out this fire without ruining you.”

Mary felt like she was doing battle. She was not the first, second, or even tenth, to engage in an argument. She was calm and generally quiet, for the most part because she was woolgathering.

Yet she had surpassed her governess’ hopes for her to control her desires and emotions. In fact, she was a paragon. Despite resenting all her lessons, she was an astute and assiduous student.

So as she stood there with her heart tattooing out a battle call and her fists clenched in an unfamiliar strength, she identified this stance as a new manifestation of womanhood.

There was no rational explanation for Mary’s response. There was desire, control, and strength. She took a step closer and asked, “What exactly are you doing?”

As he spoke, her only understanding suggested he was using the most vulgar language possible, because he replied, “I’m thinking of you until you make me so hard and hot that I explode and find some relief from this agony.” He paused to gauge her reaction, so she gave him none. “I’m sure you have taken care of yourself when you’re all alone, no?”

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. She was a lady. It was ingrained in her to be proper. More to the point, since her parents left her alone with her governess, she had been told to control, ignore, temper her desires. Do anything but fulfill them.

She was tired of not fulfilling her desires. In fact, her main priority in life right now was to fulfill her greatest desire which was to write, act in, and have one of her plays performed.

Except this wasn’t her greatest desire of late. Gregory and that kiss had awoken desire. A desire beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

The words of her governess rang in her ears, kissing is for engaged or married women. It will only lead to your ruination, and you know the only value you have as a woman.

She could remember sitting in the nursery while her governess hammered her with etiquette. The innumerous ways of curtseying, how to properly address any person of any station, carrying books on her head to keep her posture in every situation, how to mask her emotions, how to comport herself as though she were unflappable. The lessons on the pianoforte, the dancing, the water colors, the French lessons. None of it mattered to Mary.

Her strongest desires had been for a family. For a home. And of course for her play. But truth be told, if she honestly wanted any semblance of control in her life, she had to acknowledge her desire for Gregory, at least at what she felt at a point in time and for a period of time. He had been her confident, unshakeable, natural leader. Even now, no matter how much he said he didn’t give a toss for propriety, it must all be a show. He would not lead them astray. He couldn’t lead her astray.

She looked over at Gregory and her world split. She could make a choice to always do what she’d always done. Or she could choose new.

She could watch him and not kiss him. She could maintain her propriety.

“Show me,” she whispered.

Of all the ways Gregory had imagined what he was about to do, having Mary there with him was not one of them.

Show me,she had said. He needed to process her words, so he looked into her unwavering eyes. She wasn’t trembling any longer. Her eyes were penetrating his soul again, challenging him.

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