Page 30 of The Duke Says I Do
Stepping back into the sitting room should feel like a relief. But Portia’s allure remained just as strong.
“Let me help you into the coat,” he said in a thick voice. At least the coat would cover the jiggle of her breasts.
“Thank you.” She turned to allow him to slip the garment over her shoulders. Why did everything involve so much touching?
He was built on larger lines than Portia. The shoulder seams sagged down her arms and the cuffs covered her hands. But when she faced him, he felt optimistic. In a ballroom, she’d create an uproar. Crossing Lorimer Square by lamplight, the outfit might just get her home undiscovered.
In the dark and at a distance, the illusion of her being male might hold. Although Granville remained far too aware that she was a woman. A delectable one at that.
“Here.” He passed her a hat.
An ornate mirror was set above the sideboard. To his relief, she stepped out of reach and concentrated on setting his low-crowned beaver hat on her head at a convincingly masculine angle.
Unfortunately for his nerves, Portia’s dashing appearance went straight to his balls. There was something so racy about a voluptuous female kitted out in severe male clothing. When she wore her bedraggled blue gown, he’d wanted her like the very devil. This was a thousand times worse.
Right now, he was on fire. Who knew trousers on a woman could have this incendiary effect?
She met his gaze in the mirror. “Granville?”
“I was right. The coat brings out the color of your eyes.”
She flushed, and her eyelashes fluttered down. He knew that she didn’t mean to be flirtatious, but the effect was the same, blast it.
He struggled to settle down. But how could he, when he ached to touch her? It took far too long to put on his coat and not just because it was a snugger fit than Portia’s on her.
“Let’s go,” she said.
He managed to smile at her. “You’ll emerge unscathed from your adventure.”
“Yes.”
That couldn’t possibly be disappointment he heard. “You can’t have wanted to be discovered?”
“No, of course not.”
“You sound downhearted.”
“Not about that.”
He frowned. “What then?”
She licked her lips and glanced at him. “I’d…hoped for more kisses.”
Thunderstruck, he stared back before, ignoring conscience and propriety, he crossed the small distance between them and caught her in his arms.
Chapter 8
The moment Granville hauled Portia up to meet his descending mouth, she melted. The sensation was extraordinary, as if every bone dissolved to honey.
Through the furious pulse of her blood, his groan echoed in her ears. His mouth was so hot on hers, a wave of ecstatic dizziness engulfed her. Instinctively she curled her arms around him. That hard muscular form was all that stopped her from collapsing to the floor in a puddle of feminine longing.
Instinct, too, made her move her lips. She felt the same tingling heat. More. As if a charge flashed from him to her, setting her alight.
This kiss wasn’t like the last one. That had felt wild enough to a woman who had never been kissed. Only now did she realize how he’d held himself back. This kiss was hotter and harder. It didn’t ask. It demanded.
And willful, independent Portia Frain surrendered with wholehearted fervor. The rest of the world evaporated to nothing as she clung to Granville. All that remained was the pressure of his lips, his rich, woodsy scent, and the warmth of his body crushed against hers.
Then everything changed. Even this miraculous response receded under a new onslaught of sensation.
