Page 44 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“Last night, I was a fool.”
“Last night you weren’t thinking of Granville either.”
“You were.”
He spread his hands in a lying show of innocence. “I could hardly guess that the ass would hare down here to propose.”
“Well, you should have. So should I. He wasn’t going to leave you free to subvert another potential duchess.”
“I do want to stop you marrying him.”
“Destroying his hopes is worth dredging my good name through the mud?”
“I don’t care about his hopes.” He made a sweeping gesture. “I care about you. He’ll never make you happy.”
“Just as he’d never have made Vanessa Gould happy.”
His voice turned cold, as it always did when she mentioned his former lover. “You’re very different from Vanessa, but, no, he wouldn’t have made her happy either.”
She gazed up at Evesham, blinking away scalding tears. The week had been full of strain, and tonight just made everything worse. “You’re such a benefactor to wayward gentlewomen, I’m surprised they haven’t set up a statue in your honor.”
“Stop it, Juliet.” Her sarcasm made his expression harden. He stepped up to tower over her. “You’ll make yourself mad.”
“Go away,” she said, even as her shaking hands closed around the unyielding muscles of his upper arms.
By heaven, she shouldn’t be touching him. She was angry with him.
She should be pushing him out of her room or screaming for help. If only he wasn’t so big and so stubborn and so blasted appealing.
If only he wasn’t so warm and standing so close. If only every breath she took wasn’t tinged with his evocative male scent.
If only she didn’t want him so much…
“God forgive me, I can’t go away.” He stared down at her as if he was the one going mad. “It’s too much to ask of a mere mortal.”
Juliet caught irate bewilderment in his answer. Then all she heard was the rush of her blood, as he lowered his head toward hers.
Chapter 13
Evesham took Juliet’s lips in a kiss unlike any that he’d ever experienced. She’d made him furious. Everything about this God-awful day made him furious. Yet the moment his lips met the softness of hers, the rage drained away, leaving agonizing yearning behind.
Because he wanted her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his reckless, aimless, shallow life.
While wanting her, he also cherished her. He adored her spirit and her strength and her defiance. He even admired the way that she didn’t fall for his tired old lines.
When she fought him, it was exciting. Even more exciting when she melted into helpless participation. She was too fine for him, but that didn’t stop him lashing his arms around her and hauling her against his body.
Instead of demanding her response, he teased her, taking his time to let her come to him. Which given how exasperated she was with him, might be a mistake. Except he tasted a desire on her lips as inescapable as his own, and she parted for him almost immediately. Soon she was using her tongue to seduce him.
Heaven help him, he was seduced to the depths of his soul. Heat pulsed in his blood, and he was hard and ready.
Panting, he lifted his head and struggled to clear his vision. The innocent had kissed him into a storm of passion.
Juliet curved against him, as if she swooned with the intoxicating bliss of it all. Her eyelids drooped over her eyes, and a flush brightened her face. A wealth of golden hair cascaded down her back. She’d never been so beautiful.
She was all warm, enticing woman, lost in the pleasure roaring between them. But even Evesham recognized that only a despicable cad would take things any further. And while he’d broken most of the world’s rules, he continued to abide by one or two principles.
Nevertheless, it hurt his tight throat to say what he must. “Juliet, we can’t.”
