Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,360

to marry for love.

Was that why he’d built a solid reputation as a rake of the first water? Was that why he was known to keep a mistress, or maybe even two?

She didn’t think she’d like to share her husband with other women. As she drank him in, a stabbing pain in her chest showed that she wouldn’t wish to share him—ever. If he would not be hers and hers alone, her life would be a misery.

She cursed how her body responded to him. Already hot from the heat of the water, her face felt like it was on fire.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

She should say no. There were two other pools he could get warm in. But when did she ever do anything she was supposed to?

“I can hardly stop you.”

To her immense pleasure he tore his shirt over his head, flung it back upon the rock behind him and slipped into the water.

Now her face was flaming and she hated how, like every woman in England, she was not immune to his physical attributes. True, the Duke of Bladestow was one of the most strikingly handsome men she had ever met. And she’d met a few of her brother’s friends and more at her come out this season. None that caught her interest and she blamed this man.

The combination of Blade’s black hair and blue eyes, set in the lean, chiseled facial features of perfect symmetry, saw many a woman lose her sense and heart to him. At the moment, most disturbing was the knowing intensity in those eyes. They practically screamed ‘I’m here for you’ and it aroused a wild yearning in her blood, making her feel as if she couldn’t get her breath.

But marriage was forever and forever was a long time.

She wished she understood why he wanted to offer for her. To make a fine match? He could have had any of this season’s eligible debutantes. He’d courted no-one during the season, including her. Yet here he was, supposedly desperate for her hand.

Was it because he wanted to align their families, given he was like a brother to Philip? Could it be he liked her and thought to make a comfortable life? That wasn’t enough for her. What she desperately hoped was that he loved her.

But it wasn’t easy getting men like Blade to express their feelings. Her brothers’ never showed emotion, not even when their mother died.

The pool suddenly seemed so much smaller than before. His head lay perched on the edge, but his eyes followed her every movement. In her wildest fantasies, she wondered what it would be like to be in his arms. To have him make love to her. But unless he could give her his heart, she didn’t want to become one of his many conquests—or even to become a duchess.

Willing her traitorous body to calm her racing heart, Harriet focused on her predicament. How did she get out of the pool? She wished she’d not decided to ‘take the waters’ au natural.

He must have sensed her need to flee, for suddenly he stood. Water traced over his rippling muscles and her mouth dried. The light accentuated every hard muscle in his wide shoulders, his powerful chest, which tapered to narrow hips where the water blocked her view of the rest of his delights. The steam curled around him like a lover.

His casual nudity spoke of his confidence and experience with the opposite sex. He knew damn well what the sight of him was doing to her.

Oh, she was in trouble. If she gave in to his seduction here, he would demand her hand in marriage. If her father learned of this, he would send for the bishop.

She longed to make the choice of a husband for herself. She needed more time. She needed to learn what was in his heart.

Courage invaded and gave her wings, so to speak. She heaved herself up on the edge of the pool and finding her feet she fled around the rock to where her clothes lay. She could hear him cursing and also laughing behind her. She heard him fall back into the water.

“Not so brave after all, Lady Harriet. Another time perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

She could barely answer him as her teeth chattered. She rubbed vigorously with the drying cloths she’d brought with her. Once dressed she approached the bathing pool once more.

“I’ll leave a drying cloth for you,” and she placed it on the rock next to his discarded shirt. Before she