The Unexpected Duchess (12 page)

She should push him away. That thought rode her brain like a horse winning at the Ascot, but all she could do was feel the hot wetness of his mouth on hers, recall the little dimple in his cheek that she’d seen just before his lips claimed hers, and feel the beating of his heart that happened just below his Adam’s apple. Her heart slammed into her rib cage again and again. It was almost painful. But when the duke turned her in his arms and pulled her against him roughly, his tongue pushing between her lips and ravaging her mouth, she ceased thinking entirely.

He tasted like brandy. She’d snuck a sip or two from Papa’s stash in the study on special occasions and yes, the duke was exactly what brandy tasted like. But better, because along with it was the passionate force of this man whom she had to admit she was wildly attracted to. True, she didn’t like him one bit, but gorgeous and rugged and handsome and muscled … Ooh, she shuddered. Against her will, not to mention her better judgment, her hands moved up to twine around his neck. He was so tall she was forced to stand on tiptoe even though he was bending down to her. He groaned in the back of his throat and pulled her even more tightly against him. His tongue was hot and wet and skillful, demanding, taking but also giving, and Lucy was rocketed with a barrage of sensations and emotions she’d never known existed.

She became vaguely aware of a moan. It must have been her own. It jolted her back into consciousness. She pressed with all her might against his broad shoulders. He pulled back and stepped away, panting a little and staring at her with those hooded green eyes as if she were some mythical creature come to life and not a flesh-and-blood woman standing in front of him her lips no doubt red and swollen from his potent kiss.

She stood there dumbly, breathing heavily, her hand pressed against her middle. Her stays had never felt so tight. Her body had never felt so hot. Her mind had never been more confused. What the devil had that been about? She pressed the back of her hand against her lips. They were scorching as if he’d burned her. She placed her other hand against the back of the sofa to steady herself, breathe.

What had she just done?

Kissed the abominable Duke of Claringdon, that’s what.

It was improper. It was indecent. It was wrong for half a score of reasons. She didn’t even
like
him. Not like that. Not like
any
way.

And why was
he
kissing
her
while they were on the subject? It made no sense.

She took two deep breaths, sucking air back into her lungs. Searching her mind for a coherent thought. Thankfully, the duke had turned away from her and was pacing in front of the windows. It helped that he was not staring her down while she tried to make sense of the nonsensical.

First things first. She squared her shoulders. She could handle this. She could. She’d just think about it rationally. Logically. First, and most important, what would she tell Cass? Could she tell her? Should she? Oh, no. She couldn’t tell Cass. Even if she could somehow manage to explain that he had kissed
her
. Cass was grieving. The last thing she needed was a betrayal from her closest friend. But was it a betrayal? Cass didn’t care for the duke, but … No. No. No. Telling Cass was out of the question. Too complicated.

She eyed the duke’s broad shoulders. The man knew how to fill out a dinner jacket. She’d give him that. A dinner jacket that just happened to accentuate the flatness of his abdomen and— Oh, for heaven’s sake. She should be ashamed of herself. For the barest hint of a moment, she smiled softly, touching her still-scorched lips. Oh, very well. She shouldn’t have kissed the Duke of Claringdon, but it had been enjoyable. It had been quite, quite enjoyable. As much as she hated to admit it, the man knew what he was doing on and off the battlefield, it seemed. And besides, she couldn’t take it back now. The damage was well and thoroughly done.

She pushed up her chin as he turned to face her.

*   *   *

Derek turned toward Lucy, opened his mouth, shut it, and then quickly turned on his heel toward the windows again. Damn it all to hell. He’d thought he’d known what he would say but seeing her with her hair a bit mussed and her lips swollen from his kisses made every thought in his head scatter. And at the moment, an even more immediate problem was the stark evidence of how her kiss had affected him, readily apparent with a glance at his trousers. No, facing her had not been a good idea. Not at all.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair and tried to think of something awful to cool his ardor.

Lady Crandall’s hideous laugh.

The Earl of Westwood’s abhorrent teeth.

Swift dying.

That did it.

What the hell had come over him? Why had he kissed her? Very well. She was beautiful and frustrating and challenging and clever. But he didn’t even like her. Did he? No, of course he didn’t. And yet … she was beguiling in her own stubborn way. Damn it. Not only had he gone and kissed a woman he didn’t like, but he also had kissed the closest friend of the lady he’d been actively attempting to court for the past several days. Bad, bad form. What if Lady Lucy told Lady Cassandra about this? And of course she would tell Lady Cassandra about this. Women told each other everything, didn’t they? Yes, it had only been one kiss but when dealing with young unmarried females, a kiss had quite an import. He wouldn’t blame Lady Cassandra if she never spoke to him again.

He sucked in and blew out three deep breaths. A trick he’d learned long ago in the army. It cleared one’s head. Good for one’s decision-making ability.

Very well. The deed was done. It did no good to have recriminations. He’d made his choice and it was over. All he could hope to do would be to reassure Lady Lucy that it had been merely a moment’s indiscretion, an impulsive response to the tension in the room. Not a promise or anything else. Simply a response to a stimulus. He must somehow convince her to remain quiet. To keep her mouth shut. Her mouth. Shut. It hadn’t been. A moment ago. When his tongue had been inside it. Oh, bloody hell he was getting hard again. Damn. Damn. Damn. Why did it have to be so good, too? Couldn’t she have had cold thin lips or hideous breath or something? It would have made the entire affair that much easier. Instead she’d melted like butter in the sun at the insistent pressure of his mouth, and he’d been halfway to melting himself.

That was it. It had simply been far too long since he’d kissed a woman if Lucy Upton was affecting him like this. Fine. It had been a—ahem—moving kiss. Blast it. And that look of pure shock upon her face when he’d pulled her into his arms. That, that one moment, might have made it all worth it. Or even better, the fact that she’d kissed him back, with passion. And they both knew it. Let the little oh-so-sure-of-herself miss stew on
that
.

*   *   *

When the duke turned to face her this time, Lucy had plastered a calm (and self-righteous, thank you very much) look upon her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and pushed up her nose in the air just a tad in an attempt to seem above it all. She hoped it would be convincing. It didn’t feel convincing.

He cleared his throat. “That was … only a kiss. A mistake. We’ll pretend as if it never happened.”

Lucy tilted her head to the side, incredulous. “No apology, Your Grace?”

He tilted his head to the opposite side. “Do you want one?”

“Ever the gentleman.” She rolled her eyes.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “It meant nothing.”

“Of course it meant nothing, to
you
,” she agreed, a bit stung by his words though she’d die before she admitted it, “but how do you plan to explain this to
Cass
?”

A challenge rested in his green eyes. “We’re not going to tell Lady Cassandra.”

“You might not plan on it, but I certainly—”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “You’re not going to tell her, either.”

She tossed a hand in the air. “How do you expect that to be the case?” she scoffed. “I cannot wait to hear this.”

“Because if you tell her, you’ll have to explain why you kissed me back.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes on him. Just what sort of a game was he playing? “So what? Do you intend upon taking liberties with all of Cass’s friends? Is Jane next?” Cass would most likely swoon if he kissed her the way he’d just kissed Lucy.

He looked skeptical. “Don’t be absurd. Believe me, I can control myself around all of you.”

“Because you’ve done a smashing job of it so far.” Eyes still narrowed, Lucy considered him for a moment. She tapped her foot along the carpet. “Would you care to explain to me why you are so set on courting Cass? You’ve made it quite clear that you have no intention of desisting in your pursuit of her, yet you’ve never exactly explained why you’re so interested in a woman who isn’t the least bit interested back. Especially given that you’re here at this dinner party tonight taking liberties with
me
.”

He paced away from her and cursed under his breath. “Lady Cassandra was…”

She blinked at him innocently. “Yes?”

He growled. “Let’s just say she was recommended to me.”

Lucy took a step back, pressing her hand to the exposed skin above her décolletage. “Recommended to you? What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

The duke slashed his hand through the air. “It makes no difference. I didn’t intend to kiss you. I had a momentary lapse of judgment. If you’d like an apology, I’ll give it, but there’s no need to make more of this than it was.”

She pushed up her nose again. “It’ll be a cold day in hell,
Your Grace
, before I ask for your apology. If you were a gentleman, you would have offered without my having to ask.”

He pushed his hands inside his pockets and looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes, the slow spread of a smile on his lips. “If I were a gentleman, my lady, I wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Lucy fought the urge to childishly stamp her foot. He had her there. Which only served to confuse her more. Why
had
he kissed her? She eyed him carefully. And why was he so blasted handsome? Hmm. Again, that particular thought was not helpful. Not in the least.

Very well. Cass didn’t need to know about this embarrassing little incident. Especially when it would make no difference to her and she was in the midst of such sadness for Julian. No. Lucy would not bother Cass with this news. Besides, if Lucy did her duty as a friend and did what she’d promised Cass, she would get rid of the overbearing duke, so what did it matter?

Lucy took a deep breath. “Very well, I won’t tell Cass about this incident on two conditions.”

The duke placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side again. “Only two?”

She smiled at him sweetly. “I can add more if you’d like.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What are the two?”

“First, you must promise never to take such a liberty again—”

“Done!” The relief on his face was irritating.

The swiftness of his reply caused Lucy to grit her teeth. He didn’t need to seem so blasted happy about that one. “Second, you must finally agree to leave off courting Cass.”

He dropped his hands to the side. “No, I cannot promise that.”

She slashed an arm through the air. “Why not?”

“Because I fully intend to take Lady Cassandra to wife regardless of this minor accident here tonight. Rest assured it will not happen again.”

“How can I possibly know that?”

Skepticism etched across his face. “While I’m certain you’re quite used to men being unable to control themselves around you, Miss Upton, I am perfectly capable.”

“Stop calling me Miss Upton and you didn’t seem so controlled a few moments ago.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her fingers along her elbows.

“I told you, it was a momentary lapse in judgment.”

“And how do I know you won’t have another inconvenient so-called momentary lapse in judgment with the next young miss you find in a library?” she shot back.

He let out a long, deep breath. “You drive me mad, do you know that?”

She snorted. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

He turned, strode past Lucy, and opened the door to the drawing room. “Enough. Since you refuse to tell me why she didn’t attend tonight, I intend to call upon Lady Cassandra tomorrow and see for myself.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I’ll make all the arrangements,” Garrett announced the next afternoon at Cass’s parents’ town house. The four friends were enjoying a lavish tea prepared by the Monroes’ cook in an attempt to lure Cass into eating something.

Cass had reluctantly come down to the drawing room to greet her friends, but she seemed entirely uninterested in anything on her plate. Cass’s parents had gone out to make some social calls and so the four of them were alone in the house with the servants.

Cass sighed. “I’m not certain it’s such a good idea.” Resting her chin in her hand, elbow propped upon the table, she pushed her biscuits and teacakes around her plate. She’d been doing so all afternoon and had yet to take a bite.

“Oh, but it is. I think it’s a brilliant idea. Don’t you, Jane?” Lucy kicked Jane, who sat next to her on the settee.

Jane barely glanced up from the newspaper she’d been reading. “Pardon? Yes. Yes. Brilliant!” She pushed up her spectacles on her nose and took a large bite of her own biscuit.

Lucy nodded. “See there, dear, everyone’s in agreement.”

Cass turned soulful blue eyes to Garrett. “It’s ever so nice of you to offer your house in Bath to us for the remainder of the summer, but I just don’t know that I should leave London right now. If Penelope receives another letter from Julian, I want to be here in town so I can learn the news right away. And there’s always the chance that he may write to me himself.”

Lucy patted Cass on the back. “But dear, you said yourself that Penelope and her mother are retiring to their country house for the rest of the summer soon. No one stays in London in August. We must go. The post will make it to Bath just as surely as it will make it to London. It’s even a bit closer to Penelope’s country house, is it not?”