Damien’s hands were tight on her body as though he tried to feel the nakedness beneath her clothes with his fingertips. Maria felt a surge of desire, like a flow of fire along her veins.
The scent of Albany—of orange blossoms and lavender—and something deep and undeniably masculine threatened to overwhelm her. Even the taste of him was strong, coffee and cinnamon, and she observed from a strange sort of mental distance that he was overcoming her.
She entwined her fingers in his hair, clutching at him and bringing forth a grunt of pain. It was a badge of honor, and it sent her into deliriums of pleasure. The duke’s ardor became obvious. It was an insistence that pressed against Maria’s loins and shocked her back to reality.
She pushed against his chest with both hands, breaking away from the kiss. Her body ached to have his lips once more against hers, but her mind begged her to cease such foolishness.
“No, this must not happen!” she gasped.
He lifted his head to kiss her again, but stopped with a groan of pain. Damien put a hand to the back of his head.
“Damnation!” he hissed.
Maria clambered from him, straightening her dress and trying to forget the alluring feel of his body against hers. She had theirrational urge to pull him to her and enact the whole scene again.
“Are you hurt? Shall I send for a servant?” she asked.
“I am, and you should not. I bumped my head. On each and every step. I did not realize how much it hurt until I tried to move.”
He got to his feet.
Maria inwardly winced, her mind still addled with a persistent, achingwantfor him. “I did say that I was sorry.”
“And then blamed my house for your clumsiness.”
“I can barely see my hand in front of my face!”
“You exaggerate.”
Maria bit back a reply, pressing her lips tight together and folding her arms.
I need him. More than he needs me unless there is something going on here that I do not know about.
He put out a hand.
“Do we have an agreement?”
She took his hand, shivering inside at the feel of irresistible strength as his hand engulfed hers. He squeezed, just enough.
“There is one more matter,” she said, “this is to be a marriage of convenience. There will be no… falling down the stairs.”
The duke’s eyes went to where they had been lying. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I have a request of my own. No more titles. I dislike it. I am Damien, as I told you before, and you are Maria.”
“Yes, Damien.”
Speaking his name felt like….an intimacy.Yes! That was what she had felt when she had spoken his name before the other members of theCorset Chronicles!
I must be careful. This man is attractive. He is also infuriating, arrogant, and a brute. I will not allow myself to be seduced.
CHAPTER 9
“Since the banns were read and published, the trespass has stopped. Within twenty-four hours.” Damien crowed.
He dressed before a full-length mirror, choosing a black jacket with an onyx pin glittering amid the folds of his cravat. His hair was tied back, barely tamed. Simon sat in an armchair, wearing his Sunday best in preparation for his friend’s nuptials.
“That is well. Do you think the fact of your marriage has stopped the ghouls?” he asked.