Page 31 of The Duchess Trap
Before she could catch herself, the Duke moved, swift and instinctive. His hand closed firmly around her waist, hauling her bodily against him.
The shock of contact stole her breath. She had been surprised by his words moments before, but now, she was completely caught off guard by the way he so handily rectified what might have been a difficult and harmful situation. He had saved her from getting yet another bruise and scrape.
She collided with the rigid breadth of his chest, the hard wall of muscle beneath his coat offering no give. Heat radiated from him until it seemed to sink through every layer of her gown straight into her skin.
Her breath shuddered, quick and shallow as her ribs strained painfully against the confines of her stays. His fingers pressed into her side with quiet strength, stabilizing her through the silk, and the weight of his thigh braced against hers, pinning her inescapably in place. The raw power of him vibrated in every line of his body, coiled and tense, and she felt it as surely as the thrum of her own pulse.
It was unbearable, intoxicating, a force she had no shield against. Her skin prickled, her veins sang, and her very blood seemed to have been set aflame.
She lifted her gaze, helpless to resist the pull that drew her closer. Her eyes traced the fierce cut of his jaw, the hard line of his mouth, the storm raging in his eyes so near her own. The closeness of him, the sheer masculinity that overwhelmed the small space, made her dizzy.
She should have shoved him away, but instead her lips parted on a ragged breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling against the shallow space between them. “I did not mean to cause any trouble today, and I certainly could not help pitching out of my seat now. But…I must…I should tell you that I…”
As her words fell away, the Duke inhaled slowly, almost as if he were biding his time and determining how best to respond. His breath came rough, his chest rising against hers. “There is no need to thank me,” he said softly, almost in disbelief. “Catherine, on our wedding day, I vowed to protect. If I could wrap my armsaround you for the rest of eternity, if that is what it took to keep you safe, I would not stay away for another second.”
Her eyes widened. “You want to hold me?”
“You think I dislike you,” he went on, his voice low and uneven, “but what I cannot bear iswantingyou, and knowing you do not share my desires.”
Her heart leapt up and into her throat, making it nearly impossible to speak. “You—want me?”
“Of course I do.” His hand came up, fingers trembling slightly as they traced the edge of her jaw. “Every time you breathe near me, I must remind myself that it is unacceptable to lose control.”
“You speak in riddles, Your Grace,” she whispered, though her pulse betrayed her.
“No,” he said, the words scarcely more than breath. “I speak the truth.”
“But your truth and mine—they cannot be the same. I tried once to give myself to you, and you…you denied me. You showed in the plainest terms that you did not want me.”
“I will not force myself upon a trembling woman.”
Catherine straightened her form as much as she could while remaining close to him. “I am not trembling now.”
“True.” His eyes darted downward, and he stared at her lips.
“I am very much in control of my faculties.”
The Duke produced a ragged laugh. “Perhaps not the words I would have chosen, but…”
She slowly lifted her hand and ran her fingers over the contours of his face. Ever so slightly, the Duke turned his head and placed a gentle smooch on the heel of her palm. She met his gaze unwaveringly, then trailed her fingers lightly over the curves of his mouth. When she pressed the pads of her fingertips to his lips, he bestowed a kiss upon them.
She sighed contentedly, reveling in this small victory. As she lowered her hand, Catherine felt emboldened, so she delicately draped her hand around the back of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. For one blissful second, the air crackled between them.
And then his mouth crashed upon hers.
The world vanished in a blaze of heat.
His kiss was fire and storm, all-consuming, and it set her pulse galloping. His mouth scorched her, made her gasp against him,and he swallowed the sound greedily, deepening the kiss until she thought she might never breathe again.
His hand spread across her jaw, holding her fast, while his other arm crushed her against him as though he would never let her go, as though he might fuse her body to his.
She did all she could to reciprocate the raw intensity he displayed. Now that she had coaxed some emotion from her husband, she was desperate to mine for more. Her fingers clawed at his coat, knotting in the fine wool as if it were the only anchor in a sea of chaos, dragging him closer. Her lips tingled, swollen under his relentless assault, and her pulse thundered so loudly she could hear nothing else.
A low, needy sound slipped from her throat. Briefly, Catherine wondered if she should be ashamed of making such noises, but when the Duke groaned and nibbled on the corner of her lips, she understood that he did not wish to silence her anymore. She was free to moan at her leisure.
He angled his mouth over hers, capturing her every breath, deepening the kiss again and again. She had no time to think or worry about what came next. Every nerve burned, every breath was his to take, every shiver of her body answered his call.
