Page 20 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
He reached out and caught hold of her forearm before she could run off and felt her muscles judder from the intimacy.
‘What were you wool-gathering over?’ Her shock when he had spoken said she had not heard the carriage approach. ‘Did you not hear the horses?’
Blue eyes stared at him.
His hand slid down to her hand and lifted it to his lips. He would rather have kissed her skin than her warm worn leather glove.
He released her, letting her hand fall.
She was blushing again, and her eyes glittered with a starry look, as though…
The air left his lungs.
He recognised that look of want. He had seen it in many women’s eyes.
Without thought, one hand released the bow securing the ribbons of her bonnet while the other cupped her nape. Then, as her bonnet tumbled down her back and fell into the dust, he kissed her.
He burned for her, and the uncertain pressure of her fingers holding his shoulders was sublime as she opened her mouth under the pressure of his lips. His tongue invaded, claiming what he suddenly desperately wanted to be his.
She arched against him and his other arm came about her waist to pull her body nearer.
A tender, desperate and shocked sound came from her mouth and then she was pulling away and pushing him back. An instant later a stinging slap stuck his cheek.
Damn!
His hand covered his cheek, but instead of feeling regret or guilt it was laughter which rose inside him and a feeling of relief as though a champagne cork had just popped.
She was obviously not amused and her cheeks flamed red while her eyes burned a bright turquoise. It was a look of insulted pride.
Yet a moment ago her eyes had said quite clearly, kiss me, and far more. She had been willing when he had obliged.
His heart thumped steadily. He had been too long without a woman.
He dragged in a deep breath and smiled, genuinely. He could not remember the last time he had smiled from pure pleasurable emotion.
She stepped back, out of his reach, almost treading on her bonnet.
He bent and picked her bonnet up.
Katherine’s heartbeat raced. What had she done? What had she let him do? Why had he kissed her?
She had not realised John was behind her. She had not even known he was in the county.
As he brushed the road’s dust from her bonnet, she took another step back, longing to distance herself from the tug she felt towards him.
She lifted her hand to claim her bonnet, mute with anger and embarrassment.
He raised it in the air, holding it out of reach.
‘What did you think you were doing?’ she said.
‘Saying hello.’ He laughed, as though kissing her on a public highway was a joke.
There was warmth in his eyes though, which had not been there on the day of the funeral, a glimpse of the old John, and her heart ached to see it, no matter that she was angry.
‘Please let me have my bonnet, John?’
He lifted his arm higher so she would never be able to reach it and merely smiled.
