Page 64 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
Having her at his side, encouraging him, telling him hecoulddo it, andcouldlean on her…well, shite. It just made everything easier.
If that wasn’t what a marriage was supposed to be—a partnership—then he wasn’t sure he wanted one.
Ye’re supposed to be focusing on Bull’s plan. The lad will be here soon and ye still dinnae ken what to tell him.
Scowling, Thorne shoved his hands into his pockets and resumed his pacing.
“It’s a terrible idea,” he muttered, then sighed. “Nay, actually, it’s no’ abadidea, no’ really. It’s just a terrible idea because ye dinnae want Bull in danger.”
Arguing with himself was easier when he did it out loud, honestly, and he’d always been careful to do it under his breath so no one could accuse him of being mad.
“Bull’s the only one who can do it. Blackrose kens yer face.”
Och, aye, but that was a shite reason to put the lad in danger.
“We can hire someone.”
Someone whom he trusted as much as he trusted Bull?
“Fook,” he muttered, stopping before one of the windows that looked out over the gardens. “Fook. If Blackrose suspects the lad…”
Why would he? Bull looked nothing like his stepfather, or even his brother, Rourke. His relationship to the Duke of Exingham wasn’t well-known.
“Perhaps if with a good enough disguise itwouldwork.”
If there was anyone who knew how clothing could change a man’s appearance, it was Bull. And the lad was brilliant when it came toacquiringthings, although best not to ask how or where.
Nay. Ye ken someone even better, when it comes to disguises.
Thorne’s gaze dragged back to Kit.
Christ, but she was beautiful when she played, was she not?
Kit’s pale eyes were half-closed, booted feet firmly planted, and she swayed in time with the music. How had he never noticed how thoroughlyfemininethose hips were? How had he ever thought her a man?
Och, ye noticed her arse back then.
His lips twitched. True.
But now he was so intimately familiar with her body. He knew the way she hummed with pleasure when he licked her wet cunny, knew the spot on her neck which made her squirm. Knew the way she liked her nipples rolled, knew the way she was ticklish behind her knees.
Twice now she’d punched him, laughing, in response to his tickling, and God help him, he loved that about her too. Loved that she wasn’t a lady, wasn’t a debutante, wasn’t trying to be the perfect duchess.
Kit Pastorino was just completely, unapologetically herself.
And she was perfect.
Perfect. She’d turned him down perfectly, as well.
That had hurt, the realization that not only had she rejected his offer of marriage, but she’d beenright. And she’d done it in the most beautiful way, saying words he’d only learned to cherish later.
You’re a special person, and deserve all the best things in life.
She’d said those words because she didn’t believeshewas the right person for him.
Shewasthe right person for him…just not for the dukedom. That’s what had been so galling to realize, late that night while holding her. Kit Pastorino was the perfect companion for Thorne Cumming…but she’d never be accepted as the Duchess of Stroken.
As the Duke of Stroken, he needed an heir, eventually. But Society would never accept the bastard daughter of an opera singer as his duchess. Did it matter? Society didn’t accept Demon and Georgia as the Duke and Duchess of Lickwick.
