Page 23 of Married to the Ruthless Duke

In some faint part of her mind, she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, and if she would finally get to experience what it felt like to be kissed.

He advanced even closer till her chest was pressed against his, and there was no space between them. It felt so improper because they were in someone’s home, and anyone could come in at any time, but it only fueled a dark desire inside her.

Who was this wanton woman she had become?

His eyes asked the question she hoped he would, and she felt herself nod, her eyes closing in anticipation. She felt his breath on her lips, and he was oh so close to her that she felt she would die if he moved away now.

Finally, she felt his lips brush against hers, gently first and then firmly, and then nipping her bottom and upper lip in a rhythm that drove her insane. She tried to match his kisses, but the intensity of his desire was so strong that she let him have his way with her mouth.

She moaned into his mouth as she itched to get even closer to him, her hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling softly. His groan reverberated through him, and she absorbed the vibrations.

He finally slowed the kiss and then licked at her lips gently, urging her to open her mouth. She did, and his tongue touched hers, sending liquid heat through her.

He tasted like dark coffee and blueberries, a sweet and bitter combo that had her moaning into his mouth. Their tongues wrestled for dominance, and she felt him slide his hand into her hair. He drew even closer and then proceeded to kiss her senseless till she was almost in his lap.

The loud sound of one of the doors in the manor being shut jolted Helen back to reality, and she forcefully broke away from the Duke, panting heavily. Her hands went to her hair, trying to restore order to her appearance, shaking as the reality of what had just happened between them sank in.

“It is fine,” he told her, but her hands still fussed over her hair. “Leave it,” he said more firmly, placing a hand on hers, but she pulled away.

She could not believe that she had kissed the Duke in someone else’s home in broad daylight like a wanton.

To think she had been making plans to avoid marrying the Duke. What use was it if one look from him could make her abandon all reason and jump into his arms?

Alexander must have noticed from her expression that something was wrong.

“Helen,” he asked, “what’s wrong?”

She looked away from him, clenching her fists. Anger filled her, trying to hide the shame she felt.

He placed a hand that was supposed to be soothing on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, hating how her body responded to his.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, rising from her seat.

“Helen, what?—”

“Don’t.”

“Talk to me.” He sounded so concerned that tears pooled in her eyes.

“Stop. Leave me alone,” she cried. “I hate you. It seems you’re the type to do whatever it takes to get what you want, including stooping so low as to seduce an innocent. I have always made it known that I do not want to marry you, but you insist on forcing me into a marriage just for your own selfish reasons. You are truly despicable.”

She knew the moment had words had sunk in, as his face turned dark with suppressed rage. If she wanted the Duke gone, she had finally succeeded.

His expression was so stony, he could have been carved from granite. He had a cold look in his eyes that tore at something in her heart.

“It seems I misinterpreted our encounters as something cordial, but I have learned my lesson. I never intended to force you to marry me. I had hoped to show you how good things could be between us, but I was mistaken. I will never force a woman to marry me. Good day, Helen,” he spat with a stiff bow and then left her standing in the Dowager Countess’s drawing room.

It took her some time to calm herself and step out of the house. When she neared her horse, which the Duke had left tied out front, it felt like everything that had happened during the past hour was nothing more than a bad dream she had just woken from.

She rode back home in a haze, like she had her head underwater. She barely noticed anything around her, even though the streets of London were packed with towners shopping and networking and trading gossip.

She was greeted often by people she had been introduced to at previous balls, and she spared them short greetings and continued till she was home. When she got home, she found her father standing at the door, beaming.

“It seems all is going well with the Duke,” he noted.

“Indeed, Papa,” she lied. “Good day.”

“Good day, my dear.” He was positively radiating excitement, which stoked flames of guilt within her. “I’m very glad you are getting along well with him. I’m proud of you. I’m sure your mother would have been too.”

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