Page 53 of Never a Duchess
“Before we part this evening, there is something we should discuss.” She shivered at the memory of his hot mouth and wicked fingers bringing her to completion.
Dounreay faced her, the shadows making his expression unreadable. “Does it relate to our experiment?” His voice turned low and husky. “Do ye want to talk about how I made ye come, Lillian?”
They should discuss the fact Madame Delafont had no cuts or bruises, nothing that would tie her to the bloodstained handkerchief. Yet there was only one topic on Lillian’s mind.
“You play the seducer extremely well.”
“Ye play the beguiling temptress with equal skill.”
“And in doing so, I fear we are making a mistake.”
He stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her waist, crushing her against his hard chest. “It didnae look like a mistake when yer eyes glazed with desire. It didnae sound like a mistake when ye panted my name and moaned in pleasure. It didnae feel like a mistake when ye hugged my thrusting fingers and came apart.”
Her pulse raced.
Her blood burned so hot she should send for a doctor.
“Do ye want to end our arrangement, Lillian? If ye want me to return to the Highlands, just say the word. I shall take MacTavish home and let Daventry deal with the crime.”
A hollowness opened in her chest.
An emptiness she felt whenever he departed.
She should tell him to leave. She should stop leading him along a merry path to Nowhere. But lust was the devil’s daughter, a selfish, greedy minx determined to have her own way.
“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, hoping the truth would somehow draw her back to the light. Did she not owe him that much? “Though I think we should stop the pretence. We should attempt to know each other properly. To determine what exists between us.”
Fear closed around her heart like a dark storm cloud.
Such a venture would lead to an ultimatum.
In all likelihood, she would have to let him go.
But what if—
Either way, an unbearable pain hovered on the horizon.
“Madame Delafont thought she knew Lord Sheridan,” Lillian said, attempting to sound less desperate. “Getting to know you would be an educational experience that would help with my book.”
Dounreay captured her chin gently between his long fingers. “If ye want to know me better, Lillian, visit me at home tomorrow night. I’ll send the servants away. We’ll dine together, discuss personal matters. But be warned. Ye’ll spend the evening with a Highlander, nae a duke.”
She pictured them sitting before a blazing fire, sipping brandy, talking until the early hours. “My brother will never allow it.”
“I’ll speak to him, make him understand this is our last chance to explore our connection.” He released her, his tone taking a determined lilt. “When I leave for Scotland this time, I’ll nae return to London for a few years.”
“A few years?” It sounded like a lifetime.
A prolonged agony.
Sadness hung in the air between them.
A sadness she could not bear to contemplate.
“If I’m to dine with a Highlander, I shall have to wear my warm velvet dress,” she teased.
Dounreay chuckled, his accent turning as thick as his thighs. “Dinnae worry yer pretty head. I’ll have the fires blazing so hot we’ll have nae need for clothes.”
ChapterTen
