Heiress for Hire (Duke's Heiress #1) - Madeline Hunter Page 0,34

the kiss continue. She noted every second of it. Every warmth, every touch. How it changed to something deeper and the way his hands rested on her back and side. She relinquished confusion and just floated in the sensations, amazed.

He took her face in his hands and looked in her eyes. Not frowning, but with an intensity that made the beauty pause.

“You have not kissed me,” he said. “Do you not want to? If you don’t, if I misunderstood—”

She placed her lips on his to silence him. She must have done it right because he took over again and there were no more words.

It could not go on. Soon, it would be ruined. A corner of her mind waited for the moment that would happen while the rest of her relished the brief rejuvenation while she could.

True desire worked its ways with her, transforming her, starting a strange hunger that only seemed to grow. She lost hold of her thoughts, her judgment . . . herself. His hands moved in a caress that spoke of his own desire and rising passion.

That possessive hold should alarm her, but didn’t. A part of her awoke to what was happening, however. To the time and place of it, and who he was. His dominating presence provoked her vulnerability. Her desire actually enjoyed that. A primitive inner voice urged him on. Rationality spoke louder. How they had met, what he might seek besides pleasure, pressed itself onto her consciousness.

Regretfully, she moved her head to break the kiss. Battling a preference to embrace and hold him close, she placed her hands on his chest, stopping him. “You should go.”

He did not cajole or reveal disappointment. Whatever he had thought to have tonight, he seemed to accept that this was all there would be.

One more kiss, a sweet one, and he released her. “Of course. You should sleep. You were too long a servant and should stay abed until noon tomorrow.”

“Yes, I should retire.” Alone. She did not have to say it. She released the hand she clutched above the water and let it sink again.

After Chase took his leave, Minerva sat on the divan, eyes blurring, finding herself amidst the chaotic reactions those kisses had caused. It had been stupid to allow herself to taste that which she dare not enjoy in full. She was well along on a good scolding when she realized that his “later” explanation had not come.

Glad to have something to do so she did not weep from disappointment, she marched down the stairs and hurried through the garden to the small carriage house in back. She knocked on its door. “Are you asleep?”

Jeremy opened the door. “Have you been crying?”

He was still dressed. She stood aside. “Hurry. Radnor just left and I want you to follow him. His horse was not outside, so it must be at the stable around the corner. You can go through the garden and mews and be there when he arrives if you are quick about it.”

Already he had pulled on his boots. “Follow him where?”

“I want to know where he lives. Take some coin and hire a horse from the stable if necessary.”

“Won’t need it. Unless he gallops I can keep up on foot. It will be more obvious if I follow on a horse. He’ll hear me for sure then, and there’s no shadows to hide in.” Still, he swept up the coins on the table from his pay before he ran into the night.

Chapter Nine

Chase finished his meal just as his manservant Brigsby brought in the mail and paper. Brigsby insisted on doing it this way. A leisurely breakfast was a gentleman’s ritual, to his mind, and he refused to provide the reading material while Chase ate.

Chase flipped through the mail, then distracted himself with the paper. His mind did not really notice the words he read. All night his thoughts dwelled on those embraces at Minerva’s house. He still tried to make sense of what had happened.

He was no lothario, but he was not green. He liked to believe he understood the mood between them, and its potential. He had never importuned a woman, but he had never been refused either, because his instincts had proven to be excellent.

Except last night. Perhaps. Or not. That was the devil of the problem. He had kissed a woman who wanted to be kissed, he was sure. She had also allowed the warmth of those embraces. He had felt her rising passion. He had