Page 73 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
When John woke, the grey half-light of morning was seeping about the curtains, filling the room with an eerie partial illumination. It took a matter of moments for the memories of Katherine beneath him to return.
It had been the sweetest night he had spent with any woman. He had never been given the gift of virginity before.
He would worship the ground she walked on for the rest of his life. There was a deep feeling of satisfaction within him, despite the dream he had last night. He felt whole and normal.
His eyes turned from the canopy of his ostentatious bed to look at Katherine and then he rolled onto his side. She was lying on her back, one hand resting backwards on the pillow while the other lay over her midriff. Her breasts rose with her breathing and her face was turned towards him. Her brow was clear of creases. Her skin, though, displayed a scattering of freckles.
His fingers itched to touch her, but she was sleeping; her delicate light brown lashes rested on her cheeks, while her rose pink lips, slightly parted, waited for his kiss.
A sharp pain pierced his chest, a longing that was more than physical. He swallowed back his want. She would be sore and he could be patient and wait for the next time to come. But he could no longer restrain his desire to touch. His fingertip stroked Katherine’s cheek and ran along her nose.
Her eyelids fluttered open.
Katherine met John’s gaze. It was filled with a tender appreciation. This was simply John, there was nothing of the duke in his eyes. It had been that way last night as they had made love.
His gentle touch trailed over her covered breast, and then brushed along her forearm, running back and forth as her arm lay across her middle. ‘How are you?’
‘A little achy,’ she answered.
He smiled. ‘Shall I kiss it away?’ She nodded. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. ‘Better?’ he asked when he pulled away.
‘Yes. Always, when you kiss me.’
His fingertips skimmed across her skin again.
What he’d done last night had been incredibly beautiful. She knew why she had been born now. She knew why her mother had craved the perfect bliss of lying with a man. Katherine did not blame her any more. She did not even curse the wanton blood she had inherited. She was glad of it, glad because it could make her feel like this, so cherished and attractive.
‘I have to go back to London…’ he said, still holding her gaze. She had known it, he had said so before. ‘The House of Lords will open soon. Come with me… I will buy you a house, a smart one somewhere close to Mayfair. I will take you to the theatre, and buy you jewels, Katherine, and dresses, and bonnets, as many as you wish. You will have everything you have ever dreamed of. I will look after you.’
His words brought her back to reality as shockingly as though he had thrown her into the cold lake outside.
He was serious. He really thought she would wish to become his mistress. She felt dirty, and foolish again.Oh, so foolish. She told him she loved him and he offered her this insult in return. Yet of course he would now think this of her; she had given her body to him as any fallen woman might for the price of a dress and a bonnet.
He may not understand love, but she understood immorality. She would be looked down on and rejected everywhere. She rolled away and got out of his bed. ‘I do not want those things.’ She collected her nightgown from the floor and slid it back on. ‘The only thing I have ever wanted is you.’
‘You will have me.’
‘No, John, I would not have you. I would have the Duke of Pembroke.’
His hand lifted, urging her to come back. ‘Katherine…’
‘I am not for sale, John, you cannot buy me.’
His brow furrowed. ‘I am not trying to buy you. I want you with me.’
‘You want,’ she echoed, angrily. ‘We cannot always have what we want, John.’
He reached out further and caught her wrist. ‘You wanted this! You came to me!’
Because you needed me!‘I did, because I am frail like my mother. It does not mean I wish to publicly prostitute myself. Last night I told you how important Phillip and Papa are to me, and you would suggest this knowing you would take them from me.’
‘They are not even your real family. You cannot care what they think.’
Truly he did not understand love. ‘I shall not be your mistress, John. It matters what they think and to ask such a thing you can have no respect for me.’
His expression changed.
‘You do not want me?’ he asked.
