Page 61 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

“Will!” she yelped, shuffling to cover the cushion. “What is the matter with you? You scared me half to death!”

He dripped rainwater as he walked toward her, his eyes like two burning coals as they reflected the bronzed firelight. She gulped as he came closer, her breath catching as she noted his sodden shirt beneath his greatcoat. It clung to him like a second skin, revealing hard muscle and carved contours.

This is not your book,she reminded herself sternly, her heart already pounding in her chest.

The story of Captain Kildare and Lady Ursula was to blame, not the sight of her husband approaching her, looking every bit like the hero of her most satisfying dreams. At least, that was what she chose to convince herself was the truth.

“I thought you were in London, trying desperately to avoid all unwelcome distractions?” she said. “You might have written if you were going to return so?—”

He braced one knee against the settee and pulled her to him, kissing her with the same feverish hunger of Captain Kildare. One arm wrapped around her, his other hand sliding up the back of her neck, his fingers buried in her hair as he kissed her harder. As if she were air and he was drowning.

Her blood pressure already sky-high thanks to her novel, she had no choice but to melt into Will’s embrace. Had no choice but to kiss him back with equal urgency. Had no choice but to pull him to her by his soaked lapels and run her hands over his chest and ridged abdomen, relishing the heat of his skin through the wet fabric of his shirt.

A moment later, to her dismay, he pulled back. He was breathing hard, his eyes alight with desire, but she had the most awful feeling that he was about to abandon her again, changing his mind in an instant.

“I did not mean to scare you,” he growled, taking off his sodden greatcoat. “I assumed you would have heard the front door.”

She swallowed thickly, her eyes wide as she took in his powerful arms and broad shoulders, his neck gleaming with the raindrops that had not yet dried. “I was… preoccupied.”

As he leaned forward, seeking out her mouth, she pushed on his chest to hold him back. “You are dripping all over me,” she said, feigning protest. “You ought to dry out before?—”

He kissed her again, his lips tasting like the world after a storm. Holding her close, he laid her down on the settee and let his mouth do all the talking. He pressed against her, his hips coming to rest between her thighs, and with every ebb and flow of his kiss, his hips rolled in a slow motion. She did not know how it was possible, but the delicious friction of him sparked hesitant ripples of pleasure from her most sensitive spot, prompting her to urge him closer still.

“You should not have broken my rules, kitten,” he growled against her throat as his lips and tongue traced a path down to the hollow at the center of her collarbone.

Italmostburst her bubble of overwhelming bliss.

“If this is… some unkind punishment,” she gasped, “then you… may leave.”

His hand skimmed over the swell of her breast, his lips kissing that plump flesh. “It is no punishment,” he murmured, “and I am not leaving.”

“You will not continue either until I hear an apology,” she told him, cursing herself for being so stubborn. Still, she kept remembering the warning not to let him win.

He paused, panting as he gazed down into her eyes. He adjusted his position slightly, sliding one hand underneath her while his other mapped the shape of her figure from her bosom to her hip. At the soft, sensitive part where her hip met her thigh, he squeezed lightly.

“I apologize for losing my restraint,” he said, bending to kiss the curve of her neck. “I should not have taken you from your friend’s ball. I should have let you dance with all of those men, and I should have watched and imagined all the things I was going to do to you afterward to let you know that you are mine.”

She blinked. “Not the apology I was expecting.”

“I have never been jealous before,” he told her, his eyes darkening. “I have adjusted to the feeling, so it will not happen again. But can you blame me? What man would not be overcome, seeing someone else touch what he has not yet savored to the fullest, seeing someone touch what he has been forbidden to.”

She gripped his powerful arm as he caught her earlobe between his teeth and raked them across that velvety skin. Through her shallow breaths, she murmured, “If you had… told me, perhaps I might… have found a way to assure you that… you have no reason to be jealous. Not yet, anyway.”

“Do not attempt to torment me now,” he growled. “I have been thinking of this moment all the way from London. I have ridden without pause, just to make my thoughts real.”

She cried out as he moved his hips again, his precision deliciously perfect. “But I did not… say that you could… breakmyrule. I do hope your… thoughts are not disappointed when I tell you to?—”

“What is this?”

Will suddenly drew back, sitting on his haunches with something in his hand. A mischievous grin spread across his face as his eyes flitted from left to right… and Lydia realized exactly what it was that he was holding. What he was reading.

“Give that back!” She lunged for her book, but he leaped up before she could.

Smirking, he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, turning the pages. He did not seem to care that more than just his upper body could be seen through the fabric of his garments. Despite her panic at what he was reading, she could not draw her gaze away from the hard flesh that strained against the front of his trousers.

“I mean it,” she said. “Give it back! That is not yours!”

He stopped and gazed at her over the book. “Is this what you wanted me to do to you at that masquerade ball? Wereyou looking for your Captain Kildare?” His voice was rough and husky, making her blood pulse and her nerves shiver with excitement. “If I were to make all of your fantasies come true, kitten, would you let me break your rule?”

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