Page 32 of The Duke of Scandal

“Precisely. Whereas you and your…cousin? You must marry for…what…wealth? To help keep your family estates and prevent the Worthingham name from slipping into the obscurity of debt.”

“I have not said so,” Harriet said, frowning.

“You do not need to. I am an excellent detective and can read your intentions.”

Harriet saluted him with her glass, smiling slightly. The expression lit up her face, taking away the lioness and replacing her with a princess, delicate and innocent. And even more enticing. Edward felt an urge to get closer to her, to do battle once more and steal a kiss from those lips. He threw back the last of his whiskey and turned the glass in his hands as he regarded her.

“And did you find a potential suitor here tonight?” he asked softly.

“I…found a man I would like to be a suitor. I do not believe he would look at me in the same way?”

“Does he not know? How can he not know?”

“Because he would never regard my family as worthy of union to his.”

“The fool,” Edward said.

“Perhaps, I am beginning to understand what you mean by your lack of freedom. Perhaps I see that you have less freedom than I at first thought.”

This is maddening. I want to seduce her, make her mine tonight. But, there is enough potential scandal in this house for today. Servants talk. The tales of my sister will be in Southame by midday tomorrow. I will not add to the scandal. It is difficult enough to find the right woman without my own reputation getting in the way.

He stood, unlacing his shirt once more.

“If you will excuse me. I feel the need to vent some more energy. It is making my limbs twitch. I do not require you to leave. You may stay and talk but I must burn away some of this energy.”

Harriet nodded her assent and Edward pulled the shirt up over his head and tossed it aside, taking up his sword and walking to the stone strip down the middle of the room. He began to practice the fencing forms that he had learned at school, moving fluidly from one stance to the next, his sword splitting the air in thrust and counterthrust. In time, he began to forget Harriet’s presence.

Every now and again she came back into the line of his sight. As the sweat began to coat him, he caught sight of her lips parted and slightly tilted into a smile. Another moment revealed the gleam of excitement in her eyes. She watched him boldly but with flaming cheeks.

She accepts the challenge I’ve laid down for her to look at my body openly. But, she can’t disguise her embarrassment. She is not like Alexandria, not accustomed to the politics of romance. The interplay between men and women.

Something shifted under his foot. It was the edge of the carpet. In his distraction, he had strayed to the edge of the cleared space and the carpet now tripped him. With an oath, he fell to one hand, the sword lashing across his forearm. Harriet gasped and came out of her chair, her glass falling to the floor as she did so. She came to him, falling to her knees before him and taking his injured arm.

“Are you alright?” she asked with concern.

Edward looked at the cut that sliced across his right forearm. Deep enough to scar. He cursed his own clumsiness. Then he looked up. Harriet was looking at him and their eyes met and locked. Blue eyes met dark from inches apart. Edward’s lips began to throb in anticipation of the coming touch. Her fingers were soft and gentle on him. And without forethought, Edward leaned forward and kissed her.

CHAPTER 21

Harriet lost all sense of time and space as her lips met Edward’s once more. She had not realized how much her body was crying out for this contact with him. No other man had ignited this passion within her, this need. There was only one man that she could consider as a worthy husband. Only man that she would want to surrender to. And he was in front of her.

And he is the one man who is completely out of my reach. I am not even the prettiest Worthingham lady. That honor goes to Eleanor. What does he see in me? Am I just another conquest?

The thought of being his conquest was intensely arousing. She felt herself sinking into him as his strong arms went around her, hands going beneath the dressing gown and pushing it from her shoulders. The cool air seeped through the thin material of her petticoat. His touch made her feel that the material itself was fading away, leaving her naked and exposed. She consumed his lips hungrily, moving from tender and demure kisses to passionate need in a matter of seconds.

Her hands ran through his sweat-damp hair, tangling there, pulling. Her small white teeth closed on his wounded lip, making him gasp. She in turn gasped as his strong hands caught in her hair, pulling her head back. Their lips broke apart and they regarded each other. Both panted, both with flushed cheeks. Harriet could see her desire reflected in the eyes of the man before her. They clashed again, this time Edward was biting at her lip, causing her to moan.

Then his mouth moved to her ear and her neck. Each kiss burned, becoming the center of all her senses. She shivered under the teasing touch, moaning as his tongue traced a line down her neck to her shoulder. With a single brutal motion, he tore the shoulder of her nightdress, exposing the bare shoulder beneath. He kissed and then gently bit her there, leaving a mark.

“You should bear my brand,” he whispered as the angry, red mark appeared on her perfect white skin. “A mark of ownership.”

“And you?” Harriet whispered.

Amazed at her own daring, she bent her head to fasten her hungry mouth upon his neck, biting and sucking at the skin. The salty taste of his sweat was intoxicating, making her head spin. He whispered her name, tightening his arms around her back and then descending to firmly grasp her buttocks through the flimsy material of the gown. Hearing her name dragged from his lips with such desire saturating his voice, made an explosive tingle run through Harriet’s body.

It began in the very core of her womanhood, spreading like volcanic fire through her limbs. She could not speak for a moment, so delicious and all-consuming was the feeling. Edward was gathering the material of her nightdress in his hands, pulling the hem higher and higher. Harriet felt her legs becoming exposed. Then her thighs. She thrust a hand down between her legs, suddenly afraid of how far she was allowing him to take her.

Edward rested his hand on hers, not attempting to pry it away but applying a gentle pressure and motion. He broke away from kissing her to look into her eyes as his fingers pressed hers deeper between her legs. Her mouth fell open to speak but no words came out as he expertly guided her, imparting a rhythm to her motion that inflamed her. With his free hand, he pressed Harriet’s free hand against one of her breasts.

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