Page 79 of The Duke of Desire
“Mary Snowden,” he repeated, at a loss. He’d been shocked at her arrival and doubly so when she’d broken down. This was not the Ivy he’d come to know. She was controlled and stoic, a far cry from the vulnerable woman who sat before him.
“That’s my real name. When you guessed Mary that day…” Her lips curved into a small smile, but it was disappointingly brief. “I don’t know how you knew, but you were correct. I changed my name after I was ruined.”
He suddenly thought of why she might be this upset. “You haven’t seen Bothwick, have you?”
She nodded, and he exploded off the settee, rage pouring through him. “I’m going to kill him.”
She grabbed his hand, and he turned to look down at her. “No, you’re not. Although I do appreciate the sentiment.”
He slowly sank back down beside her, but he was still taut with anger. “What did he do?” he asked coldly, trying to rein in his emotions.
“He offered to make me his mistress, the cad.”
West’s temper strained. He was going to find that miserable piece of garbage and make him sorry he even spoke to Ivy.
She touched his hand, drawing his attention. God, she looked so pale and exposed, stripped bare of all the protections she always kept in place. His anger dissipated a bit. “Please,” she said. “Let me just say this.”
He willed himself to relax and clasped her hand in his. “Tell me.”
“It was a long time ago—ten years. I was young and very, very foolish. He was handsome.” She gave him a self-deprecating look. “What can I say, hewasback then.” She shuddered, and he squeezed her hand for encouragement.
“I met him at the quarterly assembly. Our attraction was immediate—he kissed me that very night, and we made plans to see each other. Sometimes near an old ruined abbey, sometimes on our farm. He professed to love me and promised to marry me. I knew it was scandalous to give myself to him, but since we would be wed, I reasoned that all would be well.”
West’s desire to thrash the man intensified. “But he didn’t marry you.”
She shook her head. “My parents learned of my indiscretion, and they tossed me from their house.” She stopped and looked away, her features strained. Her grip tightened. He wanted to take away her pain, willed it to pass through the connection of their hands into his body.
It took her a moment to start again, but she didn’t return her gaze to his. “I ended up in a workhouse for a few years. The benefactress—her name was Lady Breckenridge—she could tell that I was well educated and decently bred. She helped me find work as a companion and urged me to change my name.” She looked at him again, her eyes bright and clear.
“You took hers.”
“Yes, at her insistence. We still correspond periodically. I owe her everything.”
“There are kind people in the world, just as there are villains.” Like Bothwick. And like her goddamn parents. What kind of heartless person threw their young daughter away like rubbish? Someone like his own mother.
“Yes,” she said softly, her gaze penetrating his. “I think you are one of the kind ones.”
“I don’t know if that’s terribly accurate, but I do try to help people find happiness, and I try to bring them joy.”
“I know.” She let go of his hand and touched his face, her cool fingers tracing over his cheek. “Would you do that for me?”
“I would do anything for you.” The words tumbled from his mouth, and he meant every one of them.
“Then make me forget all the horrid things crowding in my mind.”
“Ivy—” She would never be Mary to him. Mary was her past, and he wanted her present and her future. “Are you certain?”
She curled her hand around his neck. “Never more.” Her lips came up to meet his, and he clasped her waist.
Her mouth opened, and her tongue curled into his. She kissed him slowly, and he let her guide him. She brought her other hand to his face and cradled his cheek, her thumb brushing near where their mouths were joined. The press of her fingers into his skull and the lick of her tongue against his worked in concert to give him the most erotic sensation of his life. He’d done many things with many women, but this kiss from Ivy was greater than the sum of everything that had come before.
It went on and on, her lips and teeth arousing him to heights of desire he’d never known. His body was on fire for her. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. When her breasts grazed his chest, sparks of need danced over him. He tipped his head and deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth.
She clung to him fiercely as he dragged his lips over her chin. Her head dropped back, giving him access to the silky column of her neck. He brought his hand up and cupped her breast through the too-many layers of her clothes. She gasped, and he loosened the front of her dress, desperate to touch her.
The front came down, exposing her petticoat and corset. Still too many damn clothes, and he was too impatient to untie her just now. He pulled the corset down the barest inch and delved his fingers into her chemise to find her breast. He cupped the underside and pushed it up so her flesh spilled up over the edge of her clothing. He suckled at her softness while his fingers found the hard point of her nipple. Her hands dove into his hair as he kissed her.
He slid from the settee and turned her, coming between her legs. He pulled back and looked up at her as he edged up the hem of her gown. “You have only to tell me to stop, and I will.”
