Page 30 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“I must.” She sucked in a breath. “Thank you. I’ll remember that kiss forever.”
“So will I.”
She didn’t believe him. He must have kissed hundreds of women and most – all – of them considerably more skilled in the art than inexperienced Juliet Frain. But she appreciated his gallantry. And also that he didn’t insist she give him more.
“I must go. I’ve already been out here too long.”
Or not long enough, a sly voice whispered in her head. Because while she might sound all primness and common sense, the duke had awakened a powerful sensuality. The sensations that had overpowered her in his embrace had been tempting indeed.
To her surprise, he took her hand. “I hope you dream of me,” he murmured, lifting her fingers to his lips.
She battled to hide the effect of his lips brushing her knuckles. She’d managed to leash her wanton urges – just. That kiss of homage threatened her self-control in ways that she didn’t want to consider. Because she’d loved his kiss. She’d loved touching him. And she’d loved the way that his lips had made her hot right to her toes.
That kiss had fed her famished senses. From his fresh, male scent to the tart, delicious taste of his mouth.
Turning away from the Duke of Evesham now was without doubt the right thing to do, even if at the most profound level, it felt unnatural. So her voice held a hint of acid as she jerked her hand back. “I never dream, Your Grace.”
She dipped into a curtsy and marched away, while every beat of her heart begged her to return to Evesham for more of those spellbinding kisses.
***
Evesham fought the urge to chase after Juliet. Restraint proved astonishingly difficult.
She strode off into the trees at the top of the slope and disappeared from sight without a backward glance. How he loved to watch her in motion. In London, most young ladies minced and pranced. Juliet moved with a countrywoman’s purposeful glide.
He’d understood immediately that she was a woman who always knew where she was going. She still did – and where she was going was away from him. Which sparked an odd, unfamiliar twinge in his black heart. Because even though he knew it would tempt fate, not to mention his disreputable self, to kiss her again, it still felt wrong that she left him alone and longing like this.
He was in such a damned lather, he wouldn’t sleep. His blood seethed like a volcano. One kiss from a complete beginner left the notorious rake as jumpy as a cat in a dogs’ home.
One kiss. Devil take it. One kiss, and he was lost. So lost, he’d ignored her inexperience and devoured her as if he starved.
By heaven, he did starve.
For a proper spinster who would never give him what he craved.
As a rule, he didn’t hanker after things that he couldn’t have. That seemed a recipe for discontent, and why court unhappiness? But without doubt, he hankered after Lady Juliet Frain. Who guarded her maidenhead like a treasure in a tower.
Although however frustrated he was right now, part of him admired the self-respect that informed her every moment. This wasn’t an airheaded light-skirt who spread her legs for the first man who gave her the eye.
Juliet was too good for him. He should turn away and seek out some lady who wasn’t good at all to ease his frustration.
That was what he’d done on the very few occasions when his pursuit had proven unsuccessful. Disappointment hadn’t lasted beyond bedding his next paramour. If one woman didn’t want him, there were plenty more who did.
Already he could tell that this flirtation with the virtuous Lady Juliet shattered that pattern. No other woman could replace her.
She claimed not to dream. Lucky her. Because heaven knew that he’d dreamed of her and only her since the day that they met.
Juliet smiling. Juliet welcoming him into her arms. Juliet naked and willing, as she’d never be in life. Worst of all, Juliet casting him a blank glance, then flitting off to some other man. A faceless fellow, who Evesham very much feared was the Duke of Granville, may he burn in hell.
Evesham would dream of her again tonight. That sultry, unforgettable kiss demanded it.
And tomorrow there were more deuced rehearsals when, for Juliet’s sake, he had to pretend to want her as Romeo, while pretending he didn’t want her for himself. When right now, he wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman.
It was a sodding mess.
Chapter 9
The next day, the Duke of Granville arrived.
