Page 33 of The Duke's Spinster

He would find a way to forge on, even knowing he couldn’t shake the hunger that had erupted within him when he stole into her mouth and tasted her for the first time. He wanted to taste more of her. Perhaps all of her. But she was a gently bred young(ish) lady. He should have offered marriage, and really, that was the plan. That was the bet. He was here for the bet. But then he was here for the fencing. And apparently now he was here for the kissing.

He could feel his nostrils flaring. That was the only outward display of emotion he wanted to send her. And even that was too much. He couldn’t let on that she was right in accusing him of ulterior motives.

He should have offered marriage, but what if she had said yes? He needed her to say no. If he could somehow turn her plan on her head, and scare her away, she might say no to the kissing lessons as well. With that taste in her mouth, he could propose knowing that she would say no. And then they would both go ontheir merry way. Him having won his bet, and her…well, it didn’t matter, did it?

Something poked his chest. He looked down at her outstretched hand, an offer to shake on it.

“Do we have a deal?”

“No emotions. No conditions.” He watched as she nodded along. “You teach—show me some fencing maneuvers, and I’ll show you some…kissing.”

“Precisely.”

Feeling a decided lack of options, as well as a growing disdain for shaking hands on a deal, Wesley stuck out his hand, took hers, and shook. Hard. For extra measure.

“Fine. It’s a deal.”

And then almost as sweetly as he had first heard her voice on the night of thebumpingball, she said, “See you tomorrow then.”

“Yes.” See you. Fight you. Feel you. Kiss you. Just another normal day in a typical courtship.

Chapter Thirteen

Humphrey Wells, Earlof Dalhone, more affectionately known as Father, had been mostly absent for the duke’s visits. She had seen him over the last week, but it had been sparse. Sometimes he had a habit of hermitting himself in his study to read. Other times he busied himself with travel and historical research, usually about battles and weaponry.

Boudicca, along with theton, knew he was a bit eccentric, and it sometimes caused gossip, but most of it wasn’t too harmful. He trusted his daughters. Even more so now that Boudicca had been deemed a spinster and could act as her sisters’ chaperone. But trust a parent to walk in on their daughter at the most humiliating moment. Up until the minute she was behind the screen, everything had been proper. Or at least close enough to it.

There hadn’t been any wayward thoughts. At least not many. There hadn’t been any lingering touches. At least not physical. And there certainly hadn’t been any kisses. That didn’t happen until later. And who should show up, throwing Boudicca into a panic over nothing, thus causing her most scandalous moment to date.

She should thank her father.

Not to his face of course. What would she say?Thanks for walking in on me and causing me to act indecently with a man for the first time?Or,thanks for opening the door to my first kiss?No, of course, she wouldn’t say any of those thingseven though she was happy to have had her first kiss. But there must have been some little girl inside of her still looking for her father’s approval, because that afternoon she sought him out.

She found him in his study, poring over history books.

“Who are you reading today?”

Grabbing a marker, he placed it in his book, and then looked up. “Boudicca, what a coincidence. I happen to be reading your namesake’s biography.”

“For the hundredth time?”

“Or thereabouts.” A light smile trickled across his lips. “Were you just fencing?”

Startled, Boudicca was about to ask how he knew that, when she realized she was still in her gear. “Oh, yes. I was.”

“I must have just missed you. Would have loved to watch you practice. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you have a good match.”

“Perhaps next time, Father.”

“Yes. That would be nice.” He dropped his head back to his book, more out of distraction than dismissal.

“Father,” she started the sentence with no clue how she was actually going to phrase it. How would she ask for her father’s permission to kiss a man? She didn’t feel as though she needed his permission. It wasn’t that. She just…well, it was all too new. And although she was usually decisive in most things, she faltered over this one.

“How did you know you wanted to marry Mama?”

He looked back up wistfully.

“Is it possible to have standards set too high?”

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