Page 31 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
“If I kissed your friend.”
“Not in the least,” she said coolly. “But only if you mean it. I strong-armed you into this play-acted courtship. However, if it should blossom into feelings, I encourage you both to take advantage of the opportunity. Break her heart, though, and I’ll break your kneecaps.”
Malcolm tried not to laugh at the thought of pretty Antonia engaging in sufficient violence to harm him bodily. Then, he recalled that she had unrepentantly dumped a dead woman’s body into the Thames in an attempt to fake her own death. Best not to put anything past her. It also reminded him that his time with Antonia was short. Before his good sense could short-circuit the words, he asked, “Would it bother you if I kissed you?” Malcolm asked, placing a king of spades squarely on the pile.
“Bother me?” Antonia sat back in her chair. The muscles in her throat worked. “You wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I have dreamt of it ever since the night on the wharf.” This time, he scooped up the trick and played the next card. Two bright spots warmed the apples of Antonia’s cheeks. For once, the woman had no comeback. A momentary thrill jolted through him at seizing the upper hand, though he knew he would lose it in the next breath. “No need for fear. I won’t kiss you, Antonia.”
“Why not?” she demanded huskily.
“Because I intend to let you kiss me first.”
Her lips parted. A puff of outrage was interrupted by the bell tower outside. Malcolm shoved back his chair and scooped up the deck of cards. “We shall try this again tomorrow. If you are available to meet as early as eight, I’ll be here.”
“Doing what?” Antonia asked, so earnestly that he almost told her.
“If you want to know, you’ll have to arrive early and find out.” He bent to collect her mantle from the floor and held it out. Antonia paced to him and turned on her heel as she backed into it. He rasped her name.
“Yes?”
“If you let me lead on the dance floor, I promise to follow your wishes in every other regard.”
She never turned to face him. No defiant glare, no mocking sarcasm. Only the quick tap of her shoes over the wood floor as Antonia Lowry departed in a cloud of silk-lined wool and the faint scent of French-milled soap. It left him tight with frustration and no outlet.
Save one.
* * *
Antonia mountedthe stairs the next morning unsure what she might find. Dinner conversation had not been easy yesterday. She had confided in Margaret after the fact, but when Lady Evendaw had inquired politely that afternoon about her lessons, Antonia had smiled and offered bland descriptions of an older gentleman (technically true) and a trio of other students (a bold-faced lie).
“Tis’ an excellent opportunity for you,” remarked her hostess. “As well as a mark of Lady Jersey and Princess Esterhazy’s regard for Havencrest’s reputation.” For once, Lady Evendaw bestowed a warm glance at Margaret. Antonia wondered what the woman would say if she confessed to spending the entire hour unaccompanied in the presence of Lord Havencrest—and worse, that it hadn’t been the first time.
It was a tempting thought, but one that would have her out on her ass in no time if she so much as whispered the truth aloud. Thus, her giddy act of rebellion as she regaled Margaret with the morning’s surprise.
Remembering the way he had touched her had led Antonia to spend the hour post-dinner when she was supposed to be resting before the evening’s entertainment with her hand between her legs. Antonia was accustomed to taking care of such matters herself. She had indulged in physical relations with men before. Her mother’s decision to enter into the street trade for a few years had gotten the family through the worst hard times. It had also given Antonia a solid education in men’s physical needs. Her mother claimed the experience could be satisfying for women as well. When Antonia had tried it, the results had mostly left her wanting more. At least she knew to insist upon a condom.
But here in the privacy of her own room, with its soft pillows and warm counterpane, Antonia lingered over fantasies of Malcolm’s touch. His body moved like a bullfighter’s. Lithe and strong, with his broad back and narrow waist and muscular thighs. Antonia closed her eyes to better imagine what might happen if she took him up on his casual invitation.
I intend to let you kiss me first.
The memory of his words spoken in a matter-of-fact tone with a husky burr was enough to turn Antonia into a puddle even now, a day later.
“Is anyone here?” she called out, finding the room empty. As her eyes adjusted from the gloom of the stairway to the stark winter light streaming in through the windows, she spied Havencrest’s form hunched over a small table near the window.
Oh, bother, she’d been right. Hewaspleasuring himself and catching him in the act was far less interesting and much more embarrassing than it had been in her dreams. Havencrest froze. Her words echoed through the empty room and faded into nothing.
“Antonia?” he asked. The man shoved back his chair and rose with jerky movements, startled. His trousers were not unfastened, thank heavens. The quick movements of his elbow had not been the jerks of a man stroking his cock. Antonia felt a perplexing mixture of disappointment and curiosity. If he had been pleasuring himself, she’d have been horrified.
“You said to come at eight.”
“I didn’t believe you’d actually do it.” Havencrest scooped together a pack of papers as though to conceal their content. A wooden case of pencils and pastels lay open before him. Antonia cat-pawed toward him on tiptoe. Her hands worked the fastenings of her outerwear until they loosened and fell away from her body. As a woman with little respect for anyone’s personal property, she had no reservations about trying to see what the man had been up to.
Drawings. On the little table sat a wooden figure.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking it up. The jointed sections intrigued her. She tested the little joints and found them infinitely flexible.
“A manikin. It is used for drawing figures.”
