Lyle spoke. “You are remarkably silent, my lady. Is something the matter?”
She raised her gaze to his face. A perfect, polite, social mask. To look at him, anyone would think he was civilized. “I shall speak with Sidmouth, you know.”
He gave her a lazy smile. “Perhaps you should thank me for a lucky escape. The Home Secretary is an execrable dancer.”
“It was not for the pleasure of dancing that I wanted his company,” Kate said. “But I suppose you know that.”
He shrugged. “I might guess. You wish to talk him into freeing your brother.”
Lyle knew Stephen was in prison, then. Of course he did. He seemed to know everything about her, including the names of her servants. “In that case, I’m surprised that you are not attempting to secure his release yourself, my lord duke. Stephen is now a dependent of yours, is he not?”
The duke gave a grim smile. “It is not my practice to condone seditious clergymen, however altruistic their motives. But I do try to intervene when I see someone wasting their time. Feminine charm will not work with Sidmouth, Lady Kate. He has a lot riding on this issue.” Lyle’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “You had far better work your wiles on me.”
She glared, trying to ignore the hot flush stealing over her. How she itched to slap that arrogant face! “I have no intention of working my wiles, as you call it, on anyone.”
He tilted his head. “No? How disappointing.”
For Stephen’s sake, she couldn’t let him distract her like this. She took a deep breath and tried to steer the conversation back on course. “Sidmouth has no case against my brother, and if it weren’t for these atrocious new laws, he wouldn’t even attempt to hold him.”
Lyle’s fingers squeezed her hand so hard she almost yelped. Harshly, he said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Have you any idea what your brother has been doing these past months?”
She didn’t know, but she refused to be cowed. “No, because no one will tell me! But why so secretive? Why hasn’t my brother’s arrest been reported in the papers? An earl’s son jailed for sedition? Now that is news.” She raised her brows. “Unless the government has reason to suppress the information . . .”
From the flare of Lyle’s eyes, she knew she’d scored a hit. She followed up her advantage. “Does the cabinet really think there’ll be a revolution? Or are they simply shielding themselves from fair criticism with this abominable legislation?”
The duke’s austere features tautened. “I must repeat: you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re dabbling in dangerous waters, my lady. Go back to playing the political hostess and leave the real politicking to those who understand how these things are done.”
Kate suppressed a gasp at his rudeness. Moments passed before she could master her fury. She managed to shrug. “I’d be offended by that remark if I didn’t know that men always take that dismissive tone when a woman scores a telling point against them.”
“I’m not interested in scoring points, madam.” The duke’s voice lowered to a growl. “And if you think this is a game, it shows exactly how naive you are.”
Her frustration threatened to boil over. Of course she didn’t treat securing her brother’s freedom as a game.
But instead of rushing into intemperate speech, Kate forced herself to remain silent. Obviously, nothing good could come of arguing with someone so pigheaded. He must think her a fool if he assumed she didn’t take Stephen’s imprisonment seriously.
Familiar though it was, the duke’s condescending attitude incensed her. Over the years, she’d learned to turn off patronizing remarks with a smile, knowing she had more political acumen in her little finger than her husband, a member of Parliament, had possessed in his entire body. Why, then, did Lyle’s low opinion of her intelligence rankle?
She considered. Perhaps instead of trying to correct his false assumptions, she might use them to her advantage. Men often told her things precisely because they underestimated her—politicians and peers alike. Some used her as a sounding board for ideas; others saw her as a neutral party in whom to confide.
Kate narrowed her eyes, as if to bring the past into perspective. Come to think of it, she knew an awful lot about the members of the present government.
“I mistrust that look,” murmured the duke. “What scheme are you cooking up now?”
“Scheme?” She smiled. “Oh, nothing of the sort. My mind simply wandered, that’s all. I was thinking how interesting my years as Hector’s hostess were. You know, I really owe it to posterity to publish my memoirs.” She darted a look upwards, and saw that the duke’s face had hardened to sharp planes and angles.
“So many fascinating stories,” she continued. “And a few, tiny peccadilloes here and there to spice up the brew. Well, rather more than a few, actually, and some of them not so tiny.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “I think it would make interesting reading, don’t you?”
He searched her face, and maddeningly, she sensed him relax. “You wouldn’t do it. You don’t have it in you to create a scandal like that. Not the proper Lady Kate.”
That mocking mention of her good reputation fueled her fury. “I would do anything to get my brother out of that place. Don’t cross swords with me, my lord duke, or you will see what I have in me to do.”
She saw that his disbelief wavered, so she went in for the kill. “In fact, I’ve kept a diary of these fascinating anecdotes. Written in code, of course, no names mentioned. But it will be a simple thing to turn the diary into something more readable. I don’t know why I never thought of it before.”
She almost quailed at the duke’s murderous expression. She wouldn’t be surprised if his hands closed around her throat to choke the life out of her in the middle of her own ball. But his violent reaction showed her ploy might work.
It took all her courage to face him when a lively sense of self-preservation told her to break from his hold and run. Forcing a lightness into her voice that she was far from feeling, she added, “Of course, if my brother were free I could easily forget there ever was a diary. In fact, I—”
“Shut up, you little fool!”
The dance ended before Kate could summon a retort. She longed to fight Lyle with all guns blazing, but out of regard for propriety, she made herself sink into a deep curtsey.
He bowed, still holding her hand tightly enough to crush her fingers. She winced and shot him a fiery look, but he ignored it. His features had returned to their customary impassiveness, though his gray eyes blazed under hooded lids.
She would have pulled away then, but his grip made it impossible. He drew her hand through the crook of his arm and compelled her to move with him through the crowd.
Furious, she tried to disengage herself but he held her captive. Any more effort to get away and this would soon turn into a tussle. She gritted her teeth and went with him, searching for an opportunity to escape in a dignified fashion.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Sidmouth bow his head to listen to something a soberly dressed young man murmured in his ear. Quickly, Sidmouth nodded and headed to the door in the young man’s wake.
He wasn’t leaving? Kate’s heart pounded as she moved through the crowd at the duke’s side. When would she gain another chance to speak with the Home Secretary? It was not as if she, a lone female, could call on him the next day. She must see him now.
A voice behind her made Kate jump as if a gun had gone off in her ear. “Dear Lady Kate, don’t run away. You promised the next dance to me.”
The duke halted, allowing her to turn around. Her husband’s old friend Peter Daniel held out his arm to her in a clear act of chivalry. Had her distress been so obvious? She darted a quick look around but no one else seemed to take any notice.
Kate snatched at the chance for escape. “Of course, Mr. Daniel. How could I forget?”
Daniel gave her a fat wink and watched as she tried to free herself from the duke.
“Daniel,” said the duke, ste
pping forward. His tone was a warning. “Go away.”
Fat chuckles boomed out. “Oh, come now, Lyle. You can’t keep the greatest beauty in the room to yourself. Lady’s promised to me! Do you wish to fight me for her? Pistols at dawn, eh?”
Daniel raised his quizzing glass to observe Lyle’s tight grip on Kate’s wrist. Kate marveled at his courage. She held her breath to see what Lyle would do.
His gray eyes burned into Daniel’s. His grip relaxed on her wrist. He didn’t release her, but Kate lost no time in tugging her arm free and sinking into a curtsey. “Do excuse me, sir. The sets are almost made up.”
Lyle had no choice but to let her go or risk a ludicrous scene. He bowed, and with a look that told her he had not yet finished with her, he walked away.
Kate blew out a breath of relief, watching him melt into the crowd. Now she needed to escape Daniel. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Sidmouth might have left already.
Daniel quirked a brow. “His Grace appears put out. What have you been saying to him? Stinging him with that tongue of yours, my precious little wasp?”
Kate regarded him coolly. She didn’t want to discuss the duke or their disagreement, and she still hadn’t forgiven Daniel for refusing to help Stephen.
However, she acknowledged he’d done her a service in rescuing her from the duke.
He waved away her thanks. “Oh, don’t mention it, my dear. I’m far too old for dancing, but for you, anything.”
Kate glanced to the door. “Then would you mind terribly if I excuse myself, sir? We are about to run out of claret cup and the old tabbies will be up in arms if there is none to be had.”
Without giving Daniel a chance to reply, she left him and hurried in the direction she’d seen Sidmouth take.
A cursory search of the parlor where refreshments were laid out told her Sidmouth was not there. He wasn’t in the card room, either. Had he left? She questioned the footman stationed at the front door, but he hadn’t seen Lord Sidmouth depart.
“I think you’ll find him in the green drawing room, my lady,” said her butler, the epitome of quiet efficiency. “I saw his lordship go in not five minutes past.”
He must have slipped away with the younger man for a private discussion. Some urgent government business, perhaps. If she weren’t so desperate, she wouldn’t dream of interrupting, but given the circumstances, it was a perfect opportunity.
Kate hurried back upstairs. Instead of turning right at the top to head for the ballroom, she turned left and slipped along the corridor. She tapped on the door to the green drawing room, then opened it.
A large hand shot out and clamped over her arm, yanking her inside. It wasn’t Sidmouth’s.
The duke spun her around and kicked the door shut behind him. “Looking for me?”
She glanced wildly about. Sidmouth wasn’t here. They were alone.
Her heart lurched, then plummeted to the pit of her stomach. The shadows made his features more pronounced—the aquiline nose, slightly crooked, as if he’d once broken it; the hooded eyes, with their thick, straight brows. The uncertain light leached the color from his face until he seemed a creature of jet and marble and ice.
“I was looking for Sidmouth.”
Lyle’s jaw hardened. “You won’t learn, will you?” He pulled her hard against him, jerking her head back with the force of it, and the resemblance to anything cold and inanimate vanished.
Flesh and blood male pressed against her, hot and vital. She hadn’t been so close to a man since long before Hector died, and never like this. Lyle looked as if he might devour her whole.
“Let me go!” Her words fell too loudly in the empty room. To her annoyance, they held an edge of panic. Why had she sparred with him? She’d suspected this duke was no gentleman, yet she couldn’t resist.
They were alone. If anyone found them, her honor would be compromised. She couldn’t scream. That would cause a scandal. It would be undignified to struggle. Not that she could have done much. She could barely move without rubbing her body against his.
“Take me back to the ballroom, sir!”
He laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
And then he kissed her.
There was nothing gentle or gentlemanly about the duke’s assault. Strong arms tightened around her, one hand cupping her head, fingers thrust into her hair, holding her steady against his brutal mouth.
She gasped and his tongue surged in to tangle with hers. The shock of it almost stopped her heart. No one but Hector had ever kissed her on the mouth, and his kisses had been dutiful, tight-lipped, and brief.
But this man . . . Lyle’s kiss ravaged her until she was breathless and her lips felt bruised. And like some witless debutante, she stood there practically swooning in his arms. She should struggle. She should scream. The kiss was a punishment and a warning, nothing more.
Yet the heat stabbed her loins and her heart pounded and arousal streaked through her body like lightning through a summer sky. His scent was a subtle mixture of sandalwood and man, his lips hot and dry and firm. Every breath, every touch excited her more. Who could have guessed the mouth that had sneered at her so contemptuously in the ballroom could elicit such a fever of desire?
This must not be happening. She detested him, didn’t she? And she’d thought the feeling was mutual. But despite the promptings of her brain, her body yielded, softened, molded itself to his.
He shifted and his torso dragged against her breasts, making her nipples tingle and ripen. Fierce, mad yearning welled up inside, so intense and unexpected that she gripped his lapels to anchor herself.
Lyle murmured something and the hand at her nape gentled to a caress. His mouth slowed to a leisurely exploration, as if he knew she’d surrendered, as if he’d won. She sensed his satisfaction in the softening cling of his lips, in the confident stroke of his tongue, in the slight relaxation of his embrace.
Suddenly, reason clawed to the surface. What on earth was she doing? She’d been returning his kiss!
Furious with herself, Kate twisted in his arms, struggling to break free, but that only made him tighten his hold, trapping her hands between their bodies. She stamped on his instep, and when that produced nothing but a low grunt, she used the only other weapon she had—her teeth.
She bit down viciously on his lower lip until she must have drawn blood. Kate winced at inflicting such pain on him, but Lyle didn’t even flinch. When she finally unclamped her teeth, the duke lifted his head, still holding her hard against him.
“Vixen,” he said, the trace of a laugh in his voice. “Next time, I’ll bite you back.”
He trailed a finger down the sensitive skin of her throat and pressed just above her collarbone. “There.” And he bent to kiss the spot.
Kate’s knees nearly buckled. Shuddering, she jerked her head away. She tasted the salt of his blood on her tongue, and the intimacy of it horrified her.
In this short encounter, Lyle had done to her what no other man had dared. And he’d thrown her into utter confusion.
“There won’t be a next time.” She could have killed herself for the querulous note that came into her voice. “I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen once.”
He tilted his head. “You think you had a choice in the matter? Well, that is refreshing.”
She hated him, but no more than she hated herself for such weakness. She could have stopped him if she’d wanted. For heaven’s sake, there were hundreds of people in the ballroom a few yards away who would have come running if she’d screamed.
She should scream now.
But she wouldn’t.
Oh, but he was dangerous. They’d barely met and look what she’d let him do to her! The fire of shame flooded her cheeks, where there’d only been a flush of excitement before. It was as if she’d completely lost control of herself, a terrifying thing to contemplate.
She wished he had not chosen to exercise this strange power over her, especially now, when she needed a clear head . . .
; Oh, God, Stephen. Guilt flooded her. She’d forgotten him! This was no time for allowing herself to be distracted. There was too much at stake.
She spoke between gritted teeth. “Release me, if you please.”
Before she’d finished the sentence, she was free.
Kate stepped back and saw that the duke breathed hard and fast. For a bare instant, she caught a feral light in those gray eyes, but it was quickly doused, leaving them the usual shade of polished granite.
She wished she possessed as much command over herself. Just remembering the feel of his fingers tangling in her hair made her breathless and hot.
She wrestled with her embarrassment. “Don’t ever do that again!”
“I could think of few better occupations for that mouth of yours.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Do you know how many ears were flapping in the breeze as you outlined your little plan?”
“Don’t be absurd. No one else could have heard me. Everyone was moving around too much.”
“Your conversation bordered on treason, ma’am. What will happen when your victims find out you intend to expose their dirty little secrets? I would not give a penny for your life if that got about.”
She swallowed hard. He was right. She courted danger by speaking her threats so openly. She’d not thought of that, principally because she’d never intended to publish the memoirs. The diary was utterly fictitious. She had more sense than to commit such sensitive information to paper.
On the defensive, she matched his biting tone. “If you’d simply explained that to me instead of manhandling me in this fashion, I might well have listened. Did that occur to you?”
“It did.” He smiled. “But speaking would not have been nearly so pleasurable.”
“For you, perhaps! I am not accustomed to being treated like this.”
His eyes gleamed. “No?” he said softly. “Poor Lady Kate.”
The understanding in his expression horrified her. She must get away from him. He saw far too much.
Still smiling, the duke advanced towards her. She backed away, but he advanced until her shoulders pressed against the wall.
The Dangerous Duke Page 3
