The Scandalous Love of a Duke. Jane Lark

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      “Not every woman, Katherine, just the ones who look at me with azure-blue eyes that say they long for it – just you, Kate.”

      She felt herself turn pink but refused to play tug of war for her bonnet and let it go again.

      “Give it to me,” she stated gruffly.

      “No, not until you admit you wished it so.”

      “No!”

      “I’ll not beg your forgiveness,” he answered in a hard pitch. “You wished for it.”

      “And you’ve grown arrogant, John Harding.”

      “Perhaps so,” he said in a low harsh voice. “But you wished for it. You did. I know.”

      “You cannot know.” There was anguish in her voice and, in answer, his eyes softened again and he held forth her bonnet once more.

      “Katherine, you held me and kissed me back, you cannot deny it.” The words were gentle but they cut into her heart. She still craved him. It was almost desperation which she felt.

      Tears rushed into her eyes. She had longed for it. But not like this.

      His pitch softened further. “Your eyes expressed desire before I even kissed you.”

      She lifted her hand to slap him again, but he caught it once more and raised his eyebrows.

      She felt ashamed. They both knew what he’d said was true. She had turned and faced him, and her heart had leapt into her throat. His attraction was fierce today. He was half undressed, unshaven and he wore no hat, and he was simply, essentially, masculine – tall, strong, agile and assertive.

      Was this what her natural mother had felt for her father, this desperation?

      Katherine had wanted to be kissed, and if that desire was to be fulfilled, how else might it be done if not like this? He would hardly choose to marry her. There was a world between them, not simply miles. If she wanted kisses from him, they would have to be kisses like this.

      She did not try to pull either her arm free, or her bonnet from his hand, she felt calm suddenly. “Give me back my bonnet, Your Grace. Please?”

      “Say that you wished for it?” There was a cold hard look back in his eyes.

      “No.”

      “Say it.”

      When she did not, his grip firmed on her arm, though it was not painful. “Say it!”

      His voice rang with determination.

      “No, John.”

      His hand suddenly left her arm and then it was back at her nape bracing her neck and holding her firm as he pulled her mouth to his.

      His kiss was a hard pressure against her lips. She had not imagined kissing to be like this. Her heart raced, and her fingers clawed into the muscle of his arms to steady herself. She felt faint and hot and liquid-boned.

      It was brief, barely an instant long, but when he pulled away his pale eyes shone like glass with triumph. “You wished for it,” he whispered over her lips. “Say it.”

      “Yes,” she answered, knowing she turned crimson as she did so. She felt the provincial idiot she was; gauche, weak and base-born.

      He said nothing, his eyes boring deep into her soul.

      What must he think of her?

      “Here,” he said, letting go of her nape and her bonnet at the same moment. “I’ll give you a lift home.”

      She felt disorientated and dizzy. She shook her bonnet, trying to get it to recover its shape, while she also tried to recall who and where she was.

      Her hands trembled as she tied the ribbons and her legs felt weak, too weak to walk home.

      She hadn’t looked at him since he’d let her take her bonnet. She looked at him now and saw questions in his eyes as he lifted his hand to take hers.

      She accepted it, to climb up into his curricle, and said nothing. He climbed up beside her once she had slid across the seat.

      Her throat was dry.

      He released the brake and flicked the reins, setting his fashionable, expensive horses into a trot.

      She hated herself.

      His gaze turned to her.

      She looked at him.

      “I’m sorry, Katherine, I should not have kissed you, no matter that you wished for it.”

      She felt like crying. Had he not even really wished to do it? Had he only done it because he’d realised he could?

      A dark humour suddenly shone in his eyes once more. “But, then again, maybe I am not really sorry.” He looked back at the road.

      “You have changed,” she answered, staring at him, not understanding him at all, and yet loving him.

      His eyes turned back to her, a look of granite in them. “Life has changed me, Katherine. But you are not changed. Perhaps you can make me remember who I was?”

      What did she say to that? What did she say to this stranger?

      He looked back at the road ahead and flicked the reins again.

      She gripped the side of his curricle and hung on.

       Chapter Four

      John steered his chestnut thoroughbreds through the gates of the courtyard leading into the stables.

      His blood was still boiling with a mix of desire and anger.

      He had made Katherine admit she had wanted to kiss him but, nevertheless, she’d accused him of arrogance and being changed.

      She was right, of course.

      He had not spoken to her for the rest of the drive as bitter thoughts had bounced about his head. It had been wrong to kiss her. But he did not regret it. She made him remember the past, she made him remember what it was like to be warm-blooded and feel. He wanted to feel with her.

      His heart thumped as he set the brake. God, he felt better even for having had that one kiss. It had been the way she’d pressed so innocently against him, with tenderness, not with a grabbing, greedy lust. She could wash his soul clean; that was how he felt.

      A weight had lifted from his shoulders when he dropped to the ground.

      His grooms rushed forwards to free the horses and put away the carriage.

      John strode towards the servants’ entrance to the СКАЧАТЬ