Page 37 of The Wrong Duke

“Should I not have done so?” He took another step toward her, but she backed off, pressed up against the wall as if trying to avoid him. And Evan, burning now with the same lust that had been haunting him all day, pressed himself against her. Self-control be damned!

“N — no, you shouldn’t have,” she stammered, her voice a throaty whisper. She refused to look at him, but in doing so bared her neck. “You know it was wrong.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you...” He was so close to her now, he was just about on top of her, his lips grazing her neck such that he could taste her again.

“That isn’t... that’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it? What is it you want exactly?” He breathed on her neck, delighting in the way her skin erupted with goose bumps.

“It can’t happen again,” she said, keeping her neck exposed as if she was willing him to bite into it. “I told you, it is Lord Malnor who I —”

“Who you what? Desire?”

“No — I mean, yes. I mean —”

“Tell me what you want.” His hand moved to her waist as if on its own accord, gripping it. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t push him away.

“I want... I want... Your Grace, I want —”

“That wasn’t what you called me earlier,” he chuckled softly. “Say my name.”

“What?” She snapped her head down and met his eyes, and that was when he knew that she wanted this as much as he. She might have denied it. She might have fought it. But there could be no doubt.

“Say my name.” He squeezed her waist harder.

Her body shuddered. “Evan...”

The shattering of glass broke their trance. It came from a distant room, followed by someone crying out. “You drunken fool!” followed by an eruption of laughter.

Evan snapped his head around, heart leaping through his chest for fear that someone might come around the corner. And in that instant, less than a second, Miss Baker managed to find some semblance of self-control. She pushed his hand away and stumbled down the hall.

“I have to go,” she stammered without looking back.

“Miss Baker —!” Evan called after her, thinking to chase her, but before he could take so much as a step, she was gone.

This left Evan standing alone in the hallway. His blood was running hot, surging through his veins, sending his heart to a point near bursting. Breathing spiked. Body shaking. Mind clouded with thoughts of what had just happened and what he was willing to do — what if would have done was it not for the interruption.

He was a damned fool! A fool for putting himself in a position like that. A fool for allowing things to go this far. And mostly, a fool for thinking he could control himself. There was no point denying it any further. He wanted Miss Baker like the sun wanted the sky. He desired her more than he’d desired any woman in his life. And what was more, if he was reading Miss Baker correctly, she wanted him just as much.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

“It’s a shame about the weather,” Lord Basser, the son of Lord Winstead called back as he stalked ahead of the hunting party, purposefully separating himself from the group so that he’d be the first to spot their quarry. “I can’t see a blasted thing with all these clouds about.”

“Whatever he needs to tell himself,” Evan muttered to David who snickered under his breath.

Lord Basser was twenty years of age, in good shape, and attractive enough that it added to his confidence more than was necessary for the son of a marquess. He had been overly eager about starting the hunt this morning, carrying on for the entirety of the previous evening about how skilled he was with a hunting rifle, how sharp his senses were, and how deft his aim. The way he spoke about his abilities, one might think that he had been raised in an African tribe where they were said to hunt lions with nothing more than a spear.

“Don’t go too far ahead!” Lord Winstead cried out. He walked with his rifle tucked under his arm and probably not even loaded if Evan knew the fat lord as well as he thought he did.

“It’s fine, Father!” Lord Basser cried without looking back.

“If the storm comes in —”

“It’s fine!” he snapped, turning back just long enough to glare daggers at his father, before positioning his rifle in front of him again, eyes trained through the sight, taking long and purposeful steps through the forest as he aimed it among the treetops in search.

“He’s eager,” Lord Lindstone chuckled and elbowed Lord Winstead.

“Oh, he just gets excited,” Lord Winstead agreed. “We haven’t been hunting in months, and he’s been at me to take him. Thank you again for this. It’s just what we needed.”

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