Scoundrel of My Heart (Once Upon a Dukedom #1) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,73

her anger at him prevented her from experiencing any sort of sadness at his parting. It was no doubt for the best because she had a duke to marry.

Chapter 17

He’d hired a lad to watch the residence in Whitechapel where his sister had lived before she married, as well as one to watch the residence in Mayfair where she would no doubt reside now that she was the Earl of Tewksbury’s wife. So he knew within an hour of her return to London where he would find her.

He waited until the following afternoon to hire a hansom cab in order to call on her.

As the vehicle moved swiftly through the streets, he couldn’t help but turn his thoughts to Kathryn, as she was never far from his mind. He was fairly certain Kingsland would bring her pleasure, but it would all be only motions. Touch here, press there, rub, circle, squeeze, take—the actions he’d learned from bedding dozens of women.

Griff knew those actions. He’d wanted Kathryn to know what they felt like when accompanied by love. Not that she’d know the difference immediately. Perhaps she never would. He hoped she didn’t.

But he’d also wanted to know what it would be like for him when love was involved because never before had he loved a woman with whom he’d been intimate. Oh, he’d liked them immensely, adored them, cared about them—but what he felt for Kathryn was so much deeper than what he’d experienced with any other woman and couldn’t be measured. While he’d not found his own release, it didn’t matter. He’d taken as much satisfaction from hers as he might have from his own. No encounter with any other woman had been as satisfying. Now he knew the sounds of her moans and cries. Knew the feel of her thighs quivering before she finally soared. Knew her musky scent when stirred by desire. Knew the sweet taste of her most intimate, secretive place.

Knew she had the tiniest, softest little snore when she slept. For a few hours afterward, he’d merely held her and basked in the wonder of watching her. She’d always despised what he’d considered an endearment. Freckles.

He’d known, of course, how she felt about it, and so he’d teased her with it—until teasing her had no longer been what he wanted to do. And so he’d locked the pet name away in a special corner of his heart where he’d store all the other memories of her.

A little over a week had passed since he’d left her sleeping—so beautiful, so at peace—just before dawn, gone into the village, and paid handsomely for a horse to get himself back to London. After all the rain, he’d been concerned their journey was going to be delayed for another day, perhaps two. Or if he had his way, forever.

Since his return to London, every night he stood at the top of the stairs at his club, waiting and watching for her to stride through the door in all her glorious and righteous anger because he’d left her. Simply slipped out of her bed and gone on his merry way.

Only he hadn’t simply slipped out and gone on. He’d stood there and catalogued each of her features, had taken a few of her curls between his finger and thumb to rub and absorb the texture. Had inhaled her orange and cinnamon fragrance. Had considered easing back into bed, beneath the covers, and taking possession of her body, heart, and soul—properly and completely—making her his.

The indulged second son he’d once been would have done it, would have put his own pleasures and wants and needs ahead of hers. But he no longer was that man. He’d had his sense of privilege slowly ground out of him through toil and labor and deprivation. He’d come to appreciate what he’d had only when he’d no longer had it. To take her would have meant seeing her deprived of what she yearned to possess—and where she was concerned, he refused to be that selfish.

But if she’d come to him, if she’d come to his club, if she’d chosen him—

Only she hadn’t. Although he’d considered going to her, he could offer her only a few nights, not eternity. But then why would she want a man who’d been broken, slowly pieced himself back together, but remained cracked? Not for the long haul, and it wasn’t fair to either of them to settle for the short haul.

So he’d left, trusting the footman and driver to see her