Page 27 of The Taming of the Duke
“Blanche…”
“Blanche is safe, Catherine,” he said. “Horton may be a dandy, but he’s a good man and devoted to your sister. Rest assured that he’ll make her happy if she permits him to.”
He lifted her hands to his lips, caressing her skin with his thumbs.
“What of you, Catherine? Who will makeyouhappy?”
“I can shift for myself,” she said.
His eyes deepened with desire, and his voice took on a note of huskiness, as if he struggled to control his emotions. “That you can,” he said. “But, if you permitted me, I could devote myself to your happiness.”
Desire flared within her at the blatant need in his eyes, as if a fire ran through her veins, and she shifted her legs to ease the ache which pulsed deep within—a delicious, unfathomable ache that begged to be eased.
“I told you…” Her breath hitched as he placed a hand on her waist, “…I cannot bear sycophants. I will not smile at your flattery…I—oh!” A cry escaped her lips as he shifted his hand to her thigh, inches away from the source of her need.
“I have no desire to flatter you, my sweet,” he said, his voice a low, primal growl, as if she were in the clutches of a primal beast—a predator ready to devour her. “But I do wish to see pleasure in your eyes—the pleasure you will feel as you spend at my touch.”
Oh, my…
The fog of desire threatened to obliterate rational thought, but she clung to him, shifting her thighs apart in an instinctive gesture, as if her body knew what she needed.
“Do you trust me, Catherine?”
Her breath caught, and she looked into his eyes. But all she saw was desire, a wish not to hurt her—and, in turn, a wish not to be hurt.
Could it be that he was in possession of a heart? Perhaps, like her, he wore a mask—the carefree mask of the rake—to conceal it?
He grew still and sighed, his breath a warm caress on her cheek.
“I’ll do nothing without your consent,” he said, “and I’d never ruin you—I value you too highly for that.”
“But—what about…” she hesitated, feeling her cheeks burn, “…pleasure?”
His mouth curled into a smile, and he placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I can give you pleasure and leave you intact.”
“H-here?” she asked. “Outside?”
“Where else? There’s nobody to see—and do you not prefer the sharpness of the frost on the landscape and the excitement from the danger?”
Oh, heavens—yes!
A little pulse fluttered in her belly.
“Your body speaks of your desire,” he whispered, “but I must hear consent from your lips.”
What did it matter that they were outdoors—or that she faced ruination? Marriage was not a state she wished to imprison herself in. There was no harm in a little pleasure with a man who understood her better than she did herself.
She tilted her head until their lips met.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I give you my consent—gladly.”
He dipped his head and kissed her, but this time, there was no gentleness. His tongue thrust inside her mouth, sweeping across every corner, claiming ownership as he devoured her.
And she devoured him in turn, curling her tongue round his, engaging him in a battle of desire to match the battle of wits they’d indulged in earlier.
A growl of approval reverberated in his chest as he held her close, and she drew in a sharp breath to dissipate the heat flowing through her veins.
Then, a delicious coolness caressed the skin of her thighs.
