What the Duke Wants (20 page)

“Come now, Charles, surely you figured out how to use this perfectly orchestrated situation to woo her.”

“Lady Southridge!” He turned and eyed the young girls meaningfully.

“Oh, they knew all about it. They helped. Didn’t you girls?” she asked, beaming with pride.

“Helped?” Charles choked on the word.

“Yes your grace,” Beatrix nodded soberly.

“I’m quite… speechless.”

“A first I’m sure. Now, since we gave you such a perfect opportunity, please tell me you didn’t waste it.”

“If you want me to woo the lady, you’ll have to inform her as she has no desire for me to woo her,” Charles said, his tone slightly bitter.

“Of course she wants you to woo her! And if she doesn’t then you, sir, aren’t doing it correctly.”

“I didn’t know I was in the audience of such master at wooing,” he retorted dryly.

“She does want you to pursue her. She’s just scared,” Bethanny said softly, as if reluctant to enter the conversation.

“Why would she be scared?” he asked, though he suspected he knew the answer all too well.

“You’re quite handsome, your wealthy, titled, and have a reputation as dark as sin,” Lady Southridge remarked. “Forget you heard that last part girls,” she added, spearing them with a withering gaze.

They nodded quickly.

“I don’t think that’s why she’s reluctant,” he remarked.

“Oh, then why? It’s not as if you’ve been completely dishonorable. You took the opportunity and said your intentions today, did you? I mean, that would be the logical road to take,” Lady Southridge said.

“My intentions?” Charles questioned.

“Yes you’re…” She paused. “Girls, can you please occupy yourselves? I’m going to require some privacy to converse with his grace.”

“Yes, m’um.” They scattered.

Charles wished he could go with them.

“Now, if I’m understanding this correctly, you had a perfectly beautiful day with a perfectly wonderful lady who, I might add, is an impoverished baron’s daughter who is currently employed as your governess—”

“I’m quite aware of who she is, madam.”

“Forgive me if I question your ability to connect simple and logical thoughts. Did I misunderstand that you find yourself in love with this girl?”

“Yes, I mean no. Yes I’m in love with her, bloody sorry I am but it’s true.”

“A more romantic declaration I’ve never heard,” Lady Southridge responded sarcastically. “No wonder the poor girl ran to her room.” She huffed indignantly.

“Now see here.”

“No, you see here! You didn’t tell her your intentions were honorable? You didn’t declare yourself? I gave you the perfect opportunity on a platter and you disregard it!” She all but shouted, exasperated.

“Forgive me if I resent constantly being rejected!” he shouted back.

“You’re only being rejected because she thinks you’re wanting her as a mistress or dalliance! Your reputation isn’t exactly pristine, Charles. You fell in love with a smart woman. That is a draw back when she can logically take your reputation and deduct what you’re intention could be! You have to tell her otherwise!”

“I—I—”

“Did not?” Lady Southridge finished.

“No.”

“You are an idiot.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“What are you going to do about it?” she asked. The woman was worse than a dog with a bone.

“I’m not sure! I can’t simply buy her a necklace or trinket of some sort. As proper as she is, she’d never accept it. She’d probably just be offended thinking I was trying to buy her off.”

“Which is exactly what you
would
be trying to do,” Lady Southridge shot back.

“Mistresses are so much easier to handle than potential wives,” he mumbled.

“They last longer.”

“Touché.”

“So I ask you, what are you going to do?”

“According to you, I’m going to tell her my intentions.”

“Good boy.

“I’m not your lapdog.

“You’re right, my lapdog is quicker to catch on than you, my dear boy.”

“Now, tell me how exactly did she fall into the river? That is one fiasco I did not expect.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I never once thought you would. My question stands, regardless.”

“You are the most meddling—”

“I’m helping. Admit it. You wouldn’t have had the whole afternoon alone if it weren’t for me. In fact…” She began to circle him, much like a hawk teasing its prey. “I’m the only reason you’re even
here.
”

She had a point.

Damn it.

“That doesn’t give you license to interfere,” Charles grumbled.

“How did—”

“She fell.”

“I gathered that since I assumed you didn’t push her for sport,” she replied wryly.

“I’d push
you
in for sport.”

“How providential that I was not in attendance.”

“She… stepped back and fell in.”

Lady Southridge just stared, waiting, clearly not concerned with how long it took for the truth to come out.

“I kissed her, she ran and fell. Happy now?”

“Not particularly.”

“Nor am I.”

“How often do you do that?” she asked after a brief pause, her eyes narrowing slightly as if contemplating the meaning of life.

“Do what?”

“Kiss her.”

“More than I should.”

“And how often do you simply talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yes, conversation. Even you aren’t that much of a lack wit, Charles. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.”

“We talk.”

“Not enough.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I
know
you, Charles. And, as much as it pains me to say and risk inflating your ego further, if she spoke with you, if you charmed her like I know you’re capable of, then she would be running
to
you, not away.”

“I’m quite sure she’d run away, besides I’m quite trapped as it is. I doubt there’s much I can do.”

“Why so hopeless?”

“Because
this
conversation has been so positive?”

“No… er…” She had the good grace to look slightly humbled. “But what do you mean?”

“Last night she asked for me to leave her alone, to no longer kiss her. And she said if I did, then I’d be simply showing my own selfish nature… implying that my intentions are only selfish and disregarding to her own convictions. So you see, my hands are tied. I kissed her today, she backed away but before… before she did I could
taste
her…” He paused as if considering whether to continue, he was so caught up in his thoughts it almost said too much.

“I’m not a prude, you tasted…?”

“Her desire… her attraction. She wanted me, but she doesn’t
want
me. I don’t understand it. It’s so bloody confusing.”

“Compromise her.”

“Excuse me?” Charles felt his jaw drop and his eyes blink in shock.

“Compromise her.”

“No.”

“Why ever not? It would solve so many of your issues and you’d have to marry her.”

“Yes… but… It’s not what she wants.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“So you’re more concerned about her than yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Then you are truly in love. Show her this side of yourself Charles.”

“You just said for me to be charming, to win her not bare my bloody soul.”

“Forget what I said. Bare your soul, Charles. Then thank me later.” She smiled genuinely and excused herself, leaving Charles spinning with disbelief.

****

“Foolish, foolish, foolish.” Carlotta continued to chide herself over and over for her weakening that afternoon. Thankfully, she was given a tray for her meal and didn’t need to face the duke. She paced the floor while losing herself in her thoughts.

The truth was that she wanted him, more than anything she’d ever wanted in her whole life.
Forbidden fruit.
Never had there been a more accurate description for the duke.

As the night wore on, she became more and more restless. Her emotions kept her mind spinning, refusing to allow a moment of relaxation let alone sleep. It was almost midnight when she grew exasperated enough to trek outside her room and borrow a book from the library.

Anything that would get her mind off his smile.

The glow of his gaze.

His
taste.

She walked soundlessly down the hall, a few flickering candles lit the path she already knew quite well. She reached the door and opened it slowly, lest it make any noise and alert someone of her whereabouts.

The last thing she wanted was to be caught in her nightgown and robe. But, anticipating a quick return, she didn’t bother to dress simply to borrow a book.

A low fire burned in the grate, offering orange light to the grand library. Ceiling-high bookshelves were carved out of the walls, offering a myriad of tempting distractions for her overwrought mind. She padded softly to the corner where she knew to find poetry. Something metered, preferably rhyming that would lull her to sleep. She pulled out an especially thick volume with a red spine when she heard the door open. Gasping she drew herself back into a corner, hoping the darkness would shield her.

And because fate wasn’t kind, the duke walked in, wearing nothing but his breeches and thin white shirt.

He looked like a wealthy pirate. His usually combed hair was tousled like he had been fighting sleep just as furiously as she. The soft light didn’t illuminate his features well, but cast shadows across his face giving him a darker, more dangerous appearance.

Her heart raced.

Her lips tingled.

Her breathing increased till she could smell him— cedar and smoke. Peppermint and something so dangerously alluring it made her knees feel weak.

He didn’t see her, or else didn’t act as if he had. As he made his way to the fire, she noticed his shoulders sagged slightly, as if bearing a burden too heavy to bear. He sighed, a bone-weary exhale that sounded full of sorrow, and her heart constricted with sympathy. Her arms ached to hold him, to encourage him to share his burden with her.

The fire crackled loudly, sending a fury of sparks in the air. Carlotta jumped, startled by the eruption when her attention had been so arrested by the duke.

He turned.

His eyes widened, his shoulders straightened and his eyes, now illuminated by his close proximity to the fire, burned gold.

Her mouth went dry.

“Carlotta.” He spoke. Not questioning, simply stating her name.

“Your grace.”

He nodded slightly then turned back to the fire.

“You should go.” He spoke quietly, not in the usual commanding tone she was accustomed to hearing. He closed his eyes as if in pain.

“Are… are you well, your grace? Is there something I might help you with?” she asked tentatively, stepping forward. Forgotten was her lack of proper attire, all she could think of was the burden in his expression. A burden she wished to relieve him of.

“Y—no, I thank you for your offer but I believe under the circumstances you should go. Preferably running down the hall and locking the door behind you. I would not want to do something, as I did earlier today, that would go against your wishes. I… admire you deeply but my self-control has distinct limits.” His tone was soft, raw.

“I see.” He was abiding by everything she asked.

Then why did she feel so… empty?

It was the wise thing to do, to heed his advice. His self-control wasn’t the only one that had limits. She started towards the door, placed her hand on the cool knob and paused. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched him stare into the fire.

“Go, Carlotta.”

She twisted the knob.

Opened the door, and watched his eyes close as if pained. She closed the door, the loud clicking of the mechanism echoing in the room. The duke, his eyes still closed, leaned forward, his head resting on the stone hearth. Reaching his arms out, he braced himself against the wall. His shoulders, usually covered in his coat, rippled beneath his thin shirt, impossibly broad. His tousled hair combined with the golden hue of the fire gave him the appearance of a pagan god chiseled from bronze. He pushed back from the wall, his muscles tightening with the motion and he turned.

His gaze was unguarded for a split second before it hardened into a steely self-control she hadn’t expected. “I thought you left. You
should
leave.”

“No.” She surprised herself.

And apparently, him, for his eyes widened.

“Carlotta—”

“What burdens you so?” she asked, risking a few steps toward him. Drawn in by his gaze, she felt deliciously captive.

A ghost of a smile teased his lips. “Forbidden fruit,” he answered plainly.

“It would seem that is quite an epidemic tonight.” She tilted her head, offering him a small smile, even as her heart thundered from the startling truth of her own admission.

“Truly?” he asked, his normally light eyes dangerously dark.

“Is that all that troubles you, your grace?” she asked, avoiding his question.

He opened his mouth as if to question her, then paused. Twisting his lips slightly, he continued. “Just because it was a short answer doesn’t mean it isn’t a lengthy plight, Carlotta.”

“Oh.”

“And unless you want to find me kissing you with a decided lack of restraint, I suggest you take pity on me and leave.” He took a step back. “Please.”

It was the ‘please’ that melted all of her remaining resistance. With a small step forward, she held her breath, knowing that she was changing everything but unwilling to consider the consequences.

He took another step back.

She took another step forward, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m at a loss as to what about this situation is comical, Carlotta,” he whispered darkly.

“Well, your grace, it seems to me that
I
should be the one running from you, not the other way around. If you don’t stand still I’ll find myself hopelessly insecure about your possible rejection,” she teased.

She stepped forward.

He closed the distance with three rapid steps and, sliding his hand around her back, pulled her into a fiercely passionate kiss. There was no gentle tutoring, no easing into the bliss of his affection. It was a vortex, a standing still to immediately sprinting type of kiss where there was no awareness of anything but the other person. He pressed into her, rubbing her back with a demanding touch and his other hand stole under her robe and caressed her hip. Carlotta gasped at the thousands of pleasurable sensations that coursed through her at his touch. Never had she experienced such… desire. It should have scared her, but it felt so… right.