Say No to the Duke (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #4) - Eloisa James Page 0,31

to keep your maid in the dark. You must trust her. I kissed you for one reason, Bess: to convince you of the need for a chaperone. I fancy you get the point? Because if we were alone together, and you in a pair of breeches, I’m quite likely going to think that I could persuade you to enjoy kissing.”

Betsy ground her teeth. “I see your point,” she said woodenly. “I will ask Aunt Knowe to accompany us.”

“Excellent. I might sleep tonight,” he said, looking surprised.

“I knew it,” Betsy said, before she could stop herself.

“What?”

“I guessed how Diana had cured North’s sleeplessness.”

He chuckled. “With kisses?”

Betsy’s cheeks were burning. “We shared only one kiss. Imagine what she could accomplish with four or five.”

He leaned close. “I shall imagine that, shall I?”

“You are appalling.” She went into her bedchamber and almost closed the door, but stuck her head back out.

He was still there, waiting for her, as if he knew that she would return. “I want to go to Wilmslow soon. Perhaps we should visit in our normal garb and find out if there is an auction we might attend.”

“Good idea. I need to brace myself.”

She frowned.

“You . . . in breeches. No kissing. I might have to find a woman between now and then.” A slow smile spread over his face. “You won’t mind knowing about it, Bess, because you’ve no interest in me or my kisses.”

She pulled her head back and closed the door.

Winnie was fast asleep on the truckle bed in the corner and didn’t even stir. Betsy leaned back against the door, eyes searching the ceiling. She would have to wake her maid in order to undress, but she could wait.

Why was she so upset? She had always known that she might have inherited her mother’s pleasure in bed sport. That didn’t mean she had to give in to weakness.

What a way to discover it, though: with a man who showed her no respect. If one kiss from him melted her resolution and made her weak at the knees, just imagine how she would feel when kissing a man for whom she actually cared.

Her mother’s bequest, so to speak, was this volcano of erotic desire swirling around in her, waiting to take over and force her to abandon her husband and babies. Lust felt like a windstorm that could sweep away her prudence. Her common sense.

She slid down the door until she was sitting against it. She could deal with this. She’d known it was a possibility. In fact, she’d sensed inside that it was a certainty. Look at how readily she’d gaped at Jeremy’s bare chest.

If Thaddeus kissed her, would she leap on him like an untamed cur? She had the feeling that she would not. But if she married Thaddeus, and then some years later met a Prussian with golden hair?

She could actually imagine lust driving her to extremes.

After twenty minutes of hard crying, she finally stopped and blew her nose.

Fate had offered her a chance to ameliorate her mother’s shame. Her mother had left a duke and her own children behind. She, Betsy, would be a good duchess. A perfect duchess. And a good mother too.

She would be everything her mother hadn’t been. She would never flirt with another man after marriage, or even consider such an abomination. She would be loyal and true and a perfect wife.

No one would ever whisper about her daughter’s corrupted blood.

She would marry Thaddeus.

Chapter Nine

It was ridiculous to hope that one kiss would make him sleep. Instead Jeremy stared into the dark, as he had night after night.

But somehow, tonight, the dark was a little less murky. For one thing, he kept puzzling over what went wrong with that kiss.

Betsy—Bess—had curved her arms around his neck and leaned into him as if she felt the same jolt of staggering pleasure as he had. For a moment, he’d been blinded by the ferocity of it.

The passion had to be due to his two-year drought: Desire returned in a rush that brought him near to groaning at the taste of her, every sense in his body flaming to unruly life.

He could have sworn she felt the same.

Her tongue had curled around his shyly, but he felt the breath catch in the back of her throat. He kept his hands to himself, but he felt her tremble with desire.

Then it all changed, which was a puzzle. He hadn’t done anything extraordinary. He hadn’t nipped her lip even though it was plump and