Ten Things I Hate About the Duke - Loretta Chase Page 0,95
adjustment of her hat and briskly smoothed her gloves. “Gates to climb. Hackneys to summon. I am pretending to be in bed with a sick headache, and Hyacinth is nursing me, forbidding anybody to disturb me. Fortunately, my parents are attending a reception. Mainly politicians and plotting, which means it will go on for some time.” She started to turn away.
“Wait,” he said.
She paused.
“What does this mean, exactly?” he said.
“What does it mean? What does it mean?” She gazed at him in disbelief, then realized it wasn’t a good idea to stare at him for too long, because he had barely any clothes on, and she might be blushing, which was annoying.
She wasn’t missish. It wasn’t as though she’d never seen any of her brothers in a state of undress. But he wasn’t her brother and this was altogether different. Through the fine linen of his shirt, she caught glimmers of gold . . . hair . . . on his chest and lower down.
“Yes, what does it mean?” he said.
She stomped toward him. She took the letter from his hand and pointed to the lines above her signature. “There.” She stabbed the paper with her finger. “How much plainer must I make it?”
“Love.”
“Yes. I believe I mentioned that some time ago.”
“But you hate me, too.”
“Not as much as I ought to do. For heaven’s sake, Lucius. Must I draw pictures? How thick can a man be? No, never mind. I know the answer to that.”
“I only meant, shall I go away or would you rather I didn’t? Because, you see, you can be a trifle confusing sometimes. For a simple man. And I made up my mind I wouldn’t give you any more cause to be unhappy. Or to despise yourself. I was going away to give you time without me here, looming over you constantly and trying to sweep you off your feet. And to give me time as well, to think . . . about my life. And also in hopes that absence would make the heart grow fonder. Not my heart, because if mine were any fonder it would explode or melt or disintegrate in some fashion.”
She melted then, brain, heart, knees, everything. “Oh, Lucius.”
“Ah. Not ‘duke.’ Not ‘Ashmont.’ Perhaps, then, I needn’t leave, after all.”
She stood near enough to feel his body’s warmth. She couldn’t help leaning into it. His neckcloth tickled her cheek. She turned to get closer to the warmth and strength of him.
His arm slid round her waist. “Perhaps not.”
“This is very trying,” he said. “I can feel parts of you I oughtn’t to feel. No corset.”
“I worried it would call too much attention to my bosom, and the clothes wouldn’t fit properly.”
“Yes, probably best not to call attention to your bosom.” He slid his hand lower. “No petticoats.” His hand moved lower still. “And there . . . is the most beautiful bottom in all the world.”
She was a redhead, yes, but not given to blushing. Now she seemed to be made of glowing coals.
“You would know,” she said. “Having made extensive surveys.”
“This isn’t— This is too much for a man of no willpower.” His hand slid over her hip, and he groaned. “No drawers. Oh, Cassandra. We must get you home.”
“Yes. No. Forgot about drawers. It wasn’t easy and I was in a hurry.” She really ought to push his hand off her hip. She didn’t want to. His big hand slid over her bottom and down and . . . there, between her thighs. Sensations rocketed through her, as though her body were filled with shooting stars.
“I have to stop,” he said. Before she could catch her breath, let alone feel what she was feeling, he took his hand away and planted it firmly on her back, pressing her closer.
She tipped her head back. “You may kiss me. We can do that. We’ve done it before.”
“When you had clothes on.”
“I have clothes on.”
“Not enough. And even when you did have clothes on, layer upon accurst layer, matters spun out of control very quickly.”
She gazed into his eyes. In this light they were the color of the Adriatic. She wanted to sail away on that sea. She wanted to lose herself in him.
He knew it. And he wasn’t going to let her.
“I believed once that you would grow up into a hero, fine and noble and true,” she said.
“I know. Sorry.”
“I wasn’t wrong,” she said. “You only took longer than expected. You’re being heroic now. I ought to be as