Page 22 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
She did not try to pull either her arm free or her bonnet from his hand, she felt calm suddenly. ‘Give me back my bonnet, Your Grace.Please?’
‘Say that you wanted me to kiss you.’ That cold, hard look was back in his eyes.
‘No.’
‘Say it.’
His grip firmed on her arm, though it was not painful. ‘Say it!’ His voice rang with the same gentle strength.
‘No, John.’
His hand suddenly released her arm and then it was bracing her neck, drawing her close, and he pressed his lips against hers. Her heart raced, and she felt dizzy and hot. Her fingers clawed into the muscles of his arms, through the thin cotton of his shirt, to steady herself.
The kiss was brief, and when he pulled away his pale eyes shone like glass with triumph. ‘You wished for it,’ he whispered over her lips, his eyes boring deep into her soul. ‘Say it.’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, feeling warmth flush her body. She felt the provincial, gauche idiot she was, compared to this new world-wise John.
‘Here,’ he said, releasing her and offering her the bonnet. ‘I will give you a lift home.’
She felt displaced, on the same road she walked every day, but not, as she shook her bonnet to try and get it to recover its shape.
Her hands trembled as she tied the ribbons and she was not sure if she took a step whether her legs would hold her up.
‘Come.’ He lifted his hand, offering to help her climb up to the high seat of his expensive curricle.
She accepted it, though she had to release his hand once her foot touched the first step and hold the bar to climb because the steps were steep. He climbed up and sat beside her.
Her mouth dried, as self-hatred rose.
He released the break and flicked the reins, setting his beautiful, identical pair of horses into a trot.
His head turned to her. ‘I am sorry, Kate, I should not have kissed you, no matter that you wished for it.’
She stared ahead. Had he not even really wished to kiss her, but only done it because he realised he could? She looked at him.
A dark humour suddenly shone in his eyes once more. ‘But then again maybe I am not really sorry.’ He looked at the road.
‘You have changed,’ she answered, staring at him, not understanding him at all, and yet loving him.
His eyes turned back to her, a look of granite in them. ‘Life has changed me, Katherine. But you are no different. Perhaps you can make me remember who I was.’
What should she say to that? What should she say to this stranger? Nothing. Her hand reached out and clung to the side of his curricle as he urged the horses into a canter.
6
John steered his chestnut thoroughbreds through the gates of the courtyard, leading into the stables of Pembroke Place. He had taken Katherine to her front door, there had been no invite to go inside. But he had not spoken to her during the drive as bitter thoughts had bounced about his head. It had been wrong to kiss her. But he did not regret it. She made him remember what it was like to be warm-blooded and to feel. He wanted to feel the heat of desire with her.
His blood still boiled with a heady mix of desire and anger.
She had admitted she wanted to kiss him but nevertheless she had accused him of arrogance and being changed.
She was right, of course.
The grooms hurried to free the horses and put away the carriage.
His heart thumped as he set the carriage’s brake. He felt better for having had that kiss. It had been the way she had pressed so innocently against him, with tenderness, not with the greedy lust he had previously experienced when women had seduced him.
John strode towards the servants’ entrance to the house. There was something he needed to do. He had put it off long enough.
