Page 29 of The Love Potion
“I know!” she cried out. Then she pressed her hands to her mouth. She had to lower her voice. What if someone overheard? “Of course, I wanted it. You are a duke!” She would not confess that up until that moment, he had been her hero.
“I did not take advantage,” he said stiffly.
“You are a duke!” she all but screamed. “You get everything you want, even me.” Those last two words cut her. She wanted to give herself to him. Her body still burned for him. “But I must think of what happens afterwards.”
“It was just a kiss,” he said. Then he looked around. “No one need know.”
Hedidthink her a lightskirt. So long as no one knew, then it was all right for him to take her virginity to pass the time before Zoe’s ball. “I would know, Your Grace. And what would I think of myself in the morning?”
That it had been worth it, whispered a sinful part of her. That same part that ached to be back in his arms. That part that knew her breasts were heavy and her nipples tight. The part that reminded her how boring, how lonely the life of a paid companion could be. This might be her one chance to know a man’s passion. And of all the men in the world to love, she’d found a duke. When she was old, she would still be able to whisper to herself that she had known the passion of a duke.
“I was overcome. I wasn’t thinking.” He looked at her. “It was just a kiss.” He didn’t say it as a man sneering at a woman’s silliness. He said it as someone thinking to himself that what was nothing to him, might be a great deal to her.
“I am nothing compared to you,” she said. “A kiss under a tree is like an apple at breakfast to you. One is no more special than another. And yet, to me, you are… You could be…” Sheclosed her eyes. She had to say the truth out loud and pray that the sinful part of her nature heard it clearly. “You will not be my everything, Your Grace. I will not allow it. You will not marry me. You will not ever remember me. Therefore, I refuse to give you more of myself than you surrender to me.”
She opened her eyes. She lifted her chin and dared him to force her to give him more. Inside, she was pleading.Please, please say you adore me. Say you want me as much as I want you.
But her rational mind knew he would not. What passed for adoration in a man was very different than what it was for a woman.
She saw him swallow. He took a firm step backwards, tugged on his waistcoat to straighten it, then executed the most formal and deep bows before her. She felt no mockery in his movement. Indeed, if she had to guess, he seemed earnest in this gesture of respect.
And when he straightened, he looked her in the eye.
“You impress me, Miss Petrelli. And I have acted very badly. I apologize.”
This was exactly what she wanted. He apologized. He admitted he was at fault and showed her the respect he might give to the Queen. She dipped her chin and curtseyed back. All very proper. All exactly as it ought.
And yet, inside she sobbed. She didn’t want his formality. She wanted them both to be overcome by their needs. She wanted to throw herself into the madness of his arms. Other women did it. She could rattle off the names of mistresses to kings and powerful noblemen. But she couldn’t take that step. She was still a vicar’s daughter, and some things were anathema to her.
She straightened up from her curtsey and ran her hands over her gown. “Does it show?” she asked as she touched her hair. “What we did?”
His gaze was critical as it cut across her hair and body. “You look as pristine as marble.”
Was that good?
He sighed. “I mean that as a compliment, Miss Petrelli. I have visited the statues of Athena and Aphrodite. Marble goddesses that looked so real, I believed they could step down from their pedestals to greet me.”
“And yet they are cold and remote.”
“Beauty to be honored, Miss Petrelli. Not abused.” He glanced behind him. “I will go in now. Follow in a bit when you feel more composed.”
That would be never. Or at least not for a long while. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
He cast her a wry look. “It is the least I can do.”
So many men would do much, much less. She curtsied again which made his expression turn to a self-mocking grimace. “Good evening, Miss Petrelli.”
Then he walked away.
Chapter Ten
Ras felt thecold seize his lungs. It was completely imagined—he knew that. He was not ill. He certainly wasn’t dying of the same disease that took his father. But the sensation persisted nonetheless. It happened whenever he failed the one task he’d promised his father. It wasn’t the last thing his father had said to him—that had been more about love and taking care of his mother. But the one abiding instruction his father had given him was to be a good man. His words hadn’t included the word “duke” but the implication had been there. A good man didn’t harm anyone else, and it was damned easy as a duke to ignorantly hurt other people.
As he’d just done.
He hadn’t gone out to the tree planning to kiss Miss Petrelli. He’d merely missed her at dinner and wanted to see her. All throughout the meal, he’d wanted to catch her eye. What did she think about the current cost of cotton? Would she be shocked that money was discussed at table? Would she be patient when Sara stumbled over something she wanted to say? Did she think it was funny when Zoe likened the fish soup to a mixture she’d devised to add into an ailing horse’s feed?
He wanted to know what she thought about these things, so after dinner, he’d gone to find her. He couldn’t stop reliving the moments of the last week when she’d been especially clever. When a lady had impugned Miss Petrelli’s manner of dress, Kynthea had gently reminded her that the queen herself hadfavored a similar style. The woman who quoted verses from theBibleabout modesty and been told not to judge lest she be judged. And the ones who had offered advice on the pretense of helping had been asked about their own children who were not paragons of virtue.
