Page 39 of In Compromise with the Earl
“I told you to step aside,” Oswald said through clenched teeth. “But you did not.”
“And a bout of fisticuffs was the answer?” the Duke spluttered.
“That was hardly a fight,” Oswald said. “If I were to throw a proper punch, you would be unconscious. I’ve been boxing since I was six-and-ten. You with your veal soft hands don’t know a thing about being rough. All you do it sign papers and drink Spanish Wine all day. Aphrodite will not go anywhere with you, you fool. You repulse her.”
Meanwhile, the Duke was still inspecting his jacket. “You are an ingrate. By God, I will have you meet me at dawn for this!”
“No, you won’t,” Oswald rolled his eyes and turned away to grasp his horse’s reins—only to see a fist arcing to his jaw and connected his chin.
Barely jolted, Oswald pivoted on his feet and threw a punch. His fist connected with a sickening crack against the Duke’s jaw and he added one to the man’s gut for good measure, sending him sprawling to the floor.
A booted and breeches-clad Aphrodite suddenly flew through the doors. “What is happing here?”
“Youbastard!” the Duke yelped from the floor
“Youthrew the first punch,” Oswald rubbed his bruised jaw.
Duke Strathmore scrambled from the floor, his face blotchy and his hair askew. “I will tax your soul for this!”
“Go ahead,” Oswald said mildly. “If you can find a sliver of it left, please tell me.”
The Duke spun to Aphrodite. “Do not have anything to do with this cur, I say. He is a vagabond, an utter imbecile. Do not disgrace your name or your family’s by any entanglements with this blackguard. Come with me. We’ll wed and put this nonsense behind us.”
He reached for Aphrodite’s arm, and as soon as his hand circled it, she yanked it away and edged closer to Oswald. “No.”
“No?” Duke Strathmore gaped. “Have you lost your senses, Aphrodite? You would choose this riff-raff over me? Do you know how many ladies are clamoring for one look from me, yet you will refuse me? Me!”
She stiffened her back and her gaze hardened. “Those legions of women panting after you must have twisted your sense,Your Grace. Contrary to your selfish belief, you are not irresistible. I do not want a thing to do with you, not now, or ever.”
“Well, I never!” he spat, then turned to an unfazed Oswald. “Mark my words, you’ll pay for this.”
As he hurried out of the stables, Aphrodite turned to him. “Are you all right?” Her fingertips touched his bruised chin and he hissed while pulling his head away. “Nothing more than a scrape. Believe me, I have had worse.”
“He shouldn’t have come against you,” Aphrodite said while wrapping her arms around herself. “T’was all my fault for putting you into his sights. You don’t need more trouble than what you already have.”
Her genuine sorrow nearly had him chuckle. “There is nothing to be sorry for. He feels threatened by me when it comes to you. I must say, it feels fine to know that I intimidate him.”
With a crooked grin, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing the tender shell. Pleasure engulfed him when he spotted her soft skin tremble at his touch.
She rested her hands on either shoulder, tipped on her toes and brushed her lips across his. “Thank you for defending me.”
“Who told you I had?” he asked, dropping a hand to the small of her back. The innocent act of her touching her lips to his had fueled his lust more than he had felt while dealing with doxies in the past.
“I guessed,” she whispered.
Unable to help himself, he traced his thumb under the plumpness of her bottom lip before his hand slid into the loose shining tresses; loving how the locks slipped like liquid silk against the roughness of his palm. God's teeth, Oswald knew he was getting himself in trouble, but he shuttered logical thought from his mind and acted on impulse.
The smell of jasmine and lavender, a mix he found irresistible, wafted toward him while he leaned closer, his face an inch from her lips. Her breath skittered across his face as he fit her body snugly against his.
Her eyes fluttered shut and he covered her mouth with his own, meeting open lips and a seeking tongue. He kissed her lightly, thinking—vainly—that it would be enough. But the flicker of her shy tongue against his lit an inferno in his chest.
A strange possessive yearning twisted inside him, and for a moment, it unbalanced him. Never in his life could recall feeling this possessive over any lady. Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushed her against the wall, dipped his hands to her knees and lifted her. Smartly, she locked her legs around his waist and her hands sunk into his hair while angling her head to suckle on his tongue.
* * *
Pressed against the wall by Oswald’s granite body, Aphrodite allowed herself to sink into the kiss. Her breasts heaved against his firm chest as the kiss grew blistering. His mouth devoured her, possessed her, his tongue laying claim to her body with each pass through her mouth.
Caged within his body, Aphrodite gave control over to him, over her body, over her pleasure. She felt vulnerable but safe and protected in his arms. With the press of his chest on her, the scrape of his shirt against her, her nipples started to tighten between them.
