Page 11 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

“All you have to do, if you want to know what a kiss is like…” he hesitated, his deep and rumbling voice still having a captivating hold on her as his eyes dropped down to her lips, “is ask.”

CHAPTER4

“As if I’d ask you or any other man for anything.” Grace jerked her head up with the words, defiance in her expression.

Something stirred in Philip’s gut.

She wants a kiss, and she was willing to give it to that man? Of all people in the world, she chose him!

He could think of nothing else but Grace’s lips now, what a kiss would be like and how it could feel to be the one to introduce Grace to such a kiss, to show her how a true man could kiss her, rather than the pathetic kiss she would have gotten from the Marquess of Morton, if any kiss at all.

“No?” he said, finding his voice as he managed to tear his gaze from her lips to her eyes. Her face was burning red, despite the fact the summer’s eve was chilly. “You like being the one in control, Grace?”

“Indeed, I wouldn’t give up control to any man. Least of all you.”

“I don’t know.” He offered her a small smile, the edge of his lips tilting up on one side. “You might rather like losing control every now and then. There’s pleasure in giving control to another.”

What am I doing?

It was the sort of rakish thing he only said behind closed doors with discrete women. Grace was not that woman.

“I…” She faltered then her eyes slid down to his lips as well.

He acted on instinct. He wasn’t sure if it was the rage about her trying to kiss the Marquess of Morton that made him do it or the fact that she was looking at him in that way, but he had to do it — had to do it now before she found another to fulfill her foolish dare.

Philip pressed his lips to hers with such a collision of force that the two of them staggered together. It was instant, the heat, the fire, the way they fumbled as her hands found the edge of his tailcoat and his splayed hands went to her hips.

He gripped hard, reliving that feeling of having those curves in his hands from three years ago.

Intoxicating…

He cursed her baggy and ridiculous gowns in the back of his mind as he held onto her, angling his head to hers and deepening the kiss. She gasped, perhaps at the sheer intensity of it all, and he took advantage of the moment, parting her lips to take her tongue with his own. It was a passionate battle as he dominated the kiss, the two of them coming to a halt on the grass at last.

He was too lost in the kiss, thinking only of the heat of her lips, wondering why he had never done this before, broken the rules with Grace before, when a shocked gasp sounded from somewhere.

Philip pulled back harshly.

What have I done?

That shocked gasp of some onlooker was like ice through his veins. He released Grace and stepped back, looking left and right as he sought the person who must have seen them together.

He could see no one. There were only the darkened gaps in the yew bushes nearby, but no eyes peered at the two of them.

It had to be Violet. As chaperone, she must have come to check on her friend then ran away again.

Panting as he caught his breath, he turned back to face Grace.

Her hands were on her stomach, her face full of astonishment. Her hair looked somehow wilder than before, and that damned sleeve of her dress had slipped once again, revealing a bare shoulder. The hint of her bust was visible above the neckline of her gown now, and she seemed completely unaware of it in her shock.

Don’t do this to me, Grace.

“There, it’s done,” he said with sudden finality.

“Wh-what?” she stammered, her gaze finding his own. Those golden eyes looked quite ethereal in this light.

“At least that will stop you putting yourself in any further danger.” Yes, that’s why he had done it, he was sure of it. It was just to make sure she didn’t kiss a fool like the Marquess of Morton and find herself ruined for it.

“I beg your pardon?” she spluttered, taking a small step back from him.

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