Page 43 of A Virgin for the Duke of Depravity
As he reached up to grab it, his sleeve fell a few inches down his wrist, exposing a pattern of scars on his skin. They were raised and pink, from wounds that would have been deep.
Margaret reached out to touch them with her fingertips until she remembered that they were in the center of Hyde Park. She looked around for Joan to remind herself that it was not proper to touch Leo intimately.
Drawing her hand back, she spoke to him in a soft voice. “Where did you get such scars?”
Leo drew his hand back and tugged down his sleeve over the scars. He clearly did not want Margaret to see them, but she would not let the moment pass. She waited as patiently as she could for his reply.
“Didn’t the stories about the ton’s Beasts tell you?” His voice was bitter as he bit out each word. It sounded almost cruel, and Margaret had to remind herself that his anger was not directed toward her.
“The war,” she said sadly.
She reached out to him, no longer caring who saw them. Her touch was not inappropriate and did not hint at the things they had already done together. She merely wanted to comfort him when he was so clearly pained about his scars.
“I am sorry for what happened to you,” she said quietly.
She felt the warmth of his skin beneath her hand and wished that they were alone at Devishire Mansion. She wished she could comfort him the way he had comforted her at the opera yesterday.
“Your fruit, My Lady,” he said, holding the peach out to her.
She understood that this was a peace offering. Leo did not wish to discuss the war with her or elaborate on how he got his scars.
Margaret took the fruit from his hand and pressed it to her nose. She inhaled its lovely scent and then pressed it to her lips. Leo did not take his eyes off her as she felt the fuzz on her delicate lips.
She opened her mouth slowly and sank her teeth into the ripe flesh. Juice filled her mouth and dribbled down her chin.
Leo wiped the juice from her chin with his thumb.
“You make quite a mess,” he murmured.
He lifted his thumb and licked the juice off it. Margaret could not help but stare at his mouth and wonder what the fruit would taste like on his lips.
You are in the middle of Hyde Park.It would not do for a nun—even a nun-to-be—to kiss her host.
She leaned toward him and offered the fruit to him. Leo took it from her hand and rotated it so that the place she bit was facing him as he took a large bite.
When the juice beaded on his lips, Margaret reached out her thumb and wiped it away. She relished the feel of his lips against her skin but resisted the urge to swipe her thumb along them again.
It was all she could do not to lean in and taste the peach on his lips.
“How does it taste?” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
Leo stared at her intently, as if he could feel the same tension within her. “Not half as good as your lips,” he said.
His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth.
A kiss does not ruin a woman of the cloth.
She wished she did not have the thought that she could have Leo now and still take her vows in a few days. Something about him beckoned to her and made it impossible for her to remember why she had to take her vows, why she had to run from London as fast as possible.
“And how dotheytaste?” Margaret leaned in, closer than she should have.
“Sweeter than this peach. Sweeter than the moment I found you in my book club,” he said.
He reached out to run his fingers along her cheekbone, but his sleeve slipped up to his arm.
Margaret remembered that not only were they in Hyde Park, but she also did not know this man as well as she thought she did.
“I have those, too, you know,” she said, looking down at the scars on his forearm.
