Well, Edward thought, that was unexpected.
Knowing the benefits of flattery, he’d complimented countless women over the years, and their reactions had always been the same. A thank-you, an innocent blush, a flirtatious smile that sometimes led to more-intimate flattery, sometimes to intimacy itself. Since he’d inherited, the women he encountered had practically thrown themselves at him, hoping for a chance to become the next Duchess of Strathmore or, failing that, his mistress.
But none had ever dismissed a compliment so out of hand before, the way Kate did. Ironic, that for once he’d meant it.
He watched her pick up his empty glass and reach for the bottle of port on the mantel. “Insects still eat the crops, sick children still suffer in the village…” She smiled mockingly, an expression aimed more at herself than him. “And my gardens still insist I tend them with my hands rather than burst into blooms simply because I’ve graced them with my presence.”
Taking the liberty, she refilled the glass and held it out toward him. He received it grimly, feeling duly chastised for forgetting she was an ordinary woman, just as he’d forgotten that afternoon that she was his ward. And he could never let that happen again.
“What do you do to make the world a better place, Edward? Surely, even your handsome presence cannot cause spontaneous change.”
Handsome presence. He bit back the impulse to ask if she’d poisoned the port. “I’ve done my duty to my country.” Enough for two lifetimes, in fact.
“Of course.” She nodded sincerely. “You won the war, but what do you do now?”
“I manage my estates.”
“To what end?”
The question lacked malice, but he found it irritating, nonetheless. Mostly because he’d been asking himself the same question for the past year. In the army, his life possessed purpose, until his brother’s death changed everything. The heat of Spain suddenly replaced by the cold damps of England, spicy foods replaced by bland English meals, a day of physical work replaced by…what? Hours spent sitting at a desk, balancing ledgers and reading reports.
His jaw tightened. “I have my responsibilities.”
“Such as?”
“Property oversight, investments, expansions—”
She rested her hand gently on his arm, her green eyes sparkling mischievously. “And what good is it?”
So his little hellcat was baring her claws again. “Careful, Katherine,” he warned, “that future husband might find you rather difficult.”
“So I’ve been told.” With a sigh, she turned toward the dark window to gaze out at the night.
His lips curled into a private smile. Standing there in bare feet and what he assumed to be a plain night rail beneath her robe, wild hair hanging loose around her shoulders like silk flames, she was guileless and completely unconcerned about the impropriety of the two of them being alone in a dark room, half-undressed. And any duenna worth her salt would have been horrified at the way she’d spoken to him.
But no other woman had ever challenged him like this. And inexplicably, he found himself liking it.
Self-reliant and independent, she possessed a quick intelligence that the restraints of proper society drove out of most women. Outspoken, bullheaded, and impertinent beyond belief, but also with a vulnerability and gentleness that not even her father’s abandonment could destroy. All of it had him wanting to help her. Yet he also knew the best thing he could do was leave her alone.
Starting first thing in the morning.
He stepped up behind her, confused by his own desire to be near her. “Why don’t you want to marry?”
“And give up my lifelong attachment to you? When so many women in London want nothing more than to be—”
“Katherine.” A quiet warning. The time for verbal sparring had passed.
She sighed. “I’m not against marriage. It’s a perfectly fine decision for most women.”
But you are definitely not most women. “And for you?”
“Marriage means losing.”
“Brambly, you mean.”
“Yes—and my medical work. My work matters.” With a glance, she dared him to challenge her, although he wouldn’t have dreamt of ruining the tender trust she was finally showing him. “I’m the closest person to a doctor this village has. Still not much of one, I’ll admit, but better than nothing.”
“And marriage?”
“No man wants a doctor for a wife.”
Edward couldn’t disagree. Being a leech was a questionable profession even for a man. For a woman, unthinkable. No medical school would admit her, no doctor would practice with her, not even with female patients. No husband would want his wife in contact with sickness and disease, filth and contagion, or the scandal of physical examinations. The best she could hope for was to be a midwife, and only then if she married a farmer or a smith. Or became a spinster.
For some reason he couldn’t explain, he wanted so much more for her.
“And you?” she prompted, turning the conversation onto him. “A man of your age and rank, surely you should have a wife by now. Someone to host your parties and give you an heir.”
“I’ve put myself on the shelf,” he quipped, deadpan.
“Edward,” she chastised.
He grimaced. She sounded exactly like Aunt Augusta. “Until last year, I was an army colonel, and being a soldier’s wife is always a grim prospect. Then, once I was back in England, other business distracted me, and parties and heirs held little concern.”
“And now?”
“Now,” he commented dryly, “I have my hands full with flippant, ungrateful wards who don’t realize when they’re overstepping boundaries of privacy.”
A knowing smile played lightly at the corners of her mouth, and he felt that smile warm into his chest. Boldly, she took the glass from his hand and drank the last of the port.
As he watched the soft undulation of her elegant throat, his cock flexed. He’d been semihard since she stepped into the room, all night-mussed in that thin robe, her hair wild and loose. Now, standing close enough to smell her honeysuckle scent, he wondered if she’d taste like port if he kissed her.
She licked a drop of the sweet liquid from her lips with the tip of her tongue—
He went completely hard. Sweet Lucifer.
“I’m not ungrateful to you, Edward.” She set the empty glass aside. “But I don’t want to be controlled. I’m doing something that matters, and I don’t want a husband who thinks he has the right to take that away.” She raised her gaze to his. “Or a guardian.”
“I don’t want to control you, Kate.”
“Yes, you do,” she countered. “Since you’ve been here, you’ve taken it upon yourself to hire an agent, fill the larders, buy livestock—” Her lips pressed together grimly with a loud sigh. “Edward, you bought me a horse.”
“All with your best interests in mind.” And he had. There was something about this woman that had him wanting to protect her. To spoil her. He found himself not only wanting her but wanting to spend time with her, enjoying her smiles and laughter, her quick wit, the way her eyes shined so mischievously when she thought he wasn’t looking at her. But he’d found himself doing almost nothing except looking at her.
She shook her head. “All without my consent. And this afternoon in the field, you were very controlling then.”
Understanding dawned on him. So that was it. It wasn’t the kiss she objected to, but the way it was done.
And knowing that…“I sincerely apologize,” he offered earnestly.
“Well, then.” Her shoulders visibly relaxed. “I’m glad you realize you were wrong—”
“You misunderstand.”
Touching her chin, he tipped her face to catch the firelight dancing in the green depths of her emerald eyes.
“I am not apologizing for kissing you.”
Her breath hitched, and the soft gasp rushed through him, straight down to the throbbing tip of his cock. Thank God he was just cad enough to
leave his shirt untucked when she entered the room.
“Then why are you apologizing?” she whispered.
“Because I didn’t know it was your first kiss.”
A blush instantly heated her cheeks.
“If I had known,” he continued, his gaze settling on her sensuous mouth, “I would have made certain that it was soft, sweet…I would have been gentle.”
She batted his hand away and stepped back. “There’s nothing gentle about you!” She laughed, unaware of the way her description pricked at him. “You might be a duke, but in your bones, you’re a colonel who’s used to giving orders, and I doubt you could ever be soft or sweet—”
Without warning, he swept her up into his arms.
She gasped. “Edward, put me down!”
“All right,” he agreed tersely. He sat down in the chair beside the fire, bringing her down with him on his lap.
Her face level with his, she sat across his thighs with one hand behind his neck and her bare feet dangling in the air. She struggled in his arms, off-balance and unable to jump down, and clearly unaware of what her wiggling bottom was doing to him.
“I meant—on the floor!”
Oh, he’d gladly lay her on the floor, in a heartbeat.
She slapped at his shoulder, but he easily caught her wrist.
“Be still,” he ordered gently, and immediately she stopped moving.
A warm pleasure surged through him as he felt her racing pulse beneath his fingertips at her wrist, saw the quick rise and fall of her breasts as her breath grew shallow. She wanted his kiss, he could see it in her eyes. But she was too inexperienced to know how to ask for it.
So he would gladly teach her. “It’s time for a lesson, Katherine.”
She trembled but didn’t resist as he brought her hand to his mouth. “What kind of lesson?”
“This kind.” His lips caressed the tender skin of her wrist, then down her forearm, leaving a trail of moist warmth across her flesh.
Goose bumps rose instantly in his wake. Like magic. She stared at him incredulously, and in those emerald-green pools he saw uncertainty…and dark arousal. Heat gathered low in his gut at the way she looked at him through lowered lashes, in half innocence, half anticipation. And wholly desirable.
“Would you like me to show you how gentle I can be?” he murmured against her wrist.
Her answer came as nothing more than a breath, so low he almost didn’t hear…“Yes.”
His chest squeezed with hard arousal at her answer, a feeling he certainly didn’t deserve but couldn’t resist. “Then, lesson one.” As he placed a kiss in the delicate angle of her elbow, he pointedly arched a brow to reinforce the lesson. “Gentle.”
Her body trembling, she closed her eyes and shifted closer.
The corners of his mouth tugged upward in wonder. If she reacted like this to such an innocent caress, how would she react when he touched her more intimately, to cup her breast in his hand or stroke up her inner thigh? And he desperately wanted to find out.
Pressing his advantage, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek, contenting himself with this small touch. For now. “Soft.” His thumb traced across her lips, over each tantalizing rise and dip of her sensuous mouth. “So sweet…”
With a breathless sigh, her lips parted in invitation, and he bit back his responding groan.
He should release her. He had no business touching her like this, but she had dared him, once again completely wrong about him. When it came to women, he knew exactly how to caress them softly and gently until they moaned, until they whimpered beneath him with a burning desire to slide him inside, just as he knew when they wanted to be taken rough, hard, fast.
A demanding urge deep inside him wanted to prove all that to this infuriating, frustrating woman and make her finally realize she knew nothing about what he was capable of doing. And the last thing he wanted to do at that moment was release her. With Kate, he felt alive for the first time in a year, and the blood pumping through his veins pulsed hot, each heartbeat electric.
Why this slip of a woman who irritated him beyond reason should affect him like this made no sense. Or that she could confuse him so much by both arousing and comforting at the same time. Impossibly innocent and wholly inexperienced, she drew him until the pull of her was undeniable, the aching of his hard cock impossible to ignore, and he recklessly sought the peace he instinctively knew he’d find with her.
His arm slid behind her, to encircle her waist and draw her closer. “Gentle.”
She stiffened, her hands flattening against his chest, as if she didn’t know whether to clasp him tighter or push him away. And if she knew what was good for her, she’d be shoving with every ounce of her strength.
But she didn’t fight him, not even when he sifted his fingers through her fiery waves the way he’d yearned to do since he first laid eyes on her. The strands curled provocatively around his fingers. He’d lost count of the number of women whose hair he’d touched in his life, but none of those had ever felt like this.
Her face was even with his, his mouth so close to hers that he felt her catch her breath when he whispered, “Soft…”
When he cupped her face in his hand, she leaned into his touch and nuzzled her cheek against his rough palm. Silent consent.
Aching to kiss her, he tilted her face upward and touched his lips to hers.
“Sweet.” His mouth swept back and forth across hers with a hushed groan. So unbelievably sweet…There was none of the physical demand of that afternoon’s embrace, none of its urgency or desperation. Instead, his lips delicately caressed hers in a tantalizingly innocent kiss. Nothing more than a featherlight tease, the kiss stirred a warmth inside him and gave an unexpected lift of the weight from his shoulders.
But when her hand slid up his chest to tangle into his shirt and tug him closer, he forced himself to pull away. Not because he wanted to stop—he ached for her, and if she shifted just an inch in his lap, she’d immediately discover exactly how much—but because he could very easily continue.
If he did that, the kissing lesson would turn into something much less innocent, something demanding and controlling, just as she’d accused him of being that afternoon.
Her eyes fluttered open, her hooded gaze fogged with arousal. When her lips parted in confusion—
“That was how your first kiss should have been,” he murmured, his voice husky.
“Oh.” She shivered, and he couldn’t help but smile, more pleased than he had a right to be, more relieved than he wanted to admit that she hadn’t tried to slap him. Again.
When she didn’t say anything more, he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, still hot and moist from his mouth. “What are you thinking?”
Her brows knit together. “That I’m…confused.”
“Good.”
“Good?” she puzzled.
He nodded, reluctantly pulling his hand away from her lips before he let it drift elsewhere over her body. “I’m feeling a bit confused myself, and I’d hate to be the only one.”
That must have been the right thing to say, because he saw the tension in her shoulders loosen as the nervousness left her. When she smiled at him, the heat of it stirred something deep in his gut. It wasn’t just lust. His little angel was doing all kinds of things to his insides, chasing away the darkness and making him feel alive, raising emotions he hadn’t felt for a woman in years.
And that was the problem. This beautiful, intelligent, independent woman who made his heart race and his gut burn in ways no one else ever had was also Benton’s daughter. And now his ward.
She buried her face against his neck, her warm lips brushing against his bare skin as she relaxed against him. “You’re not alone, Edward.”
His breath hitched at her soft words.
He wanted her.
Dear God, how much he wanted her! To bury himself inside her warmth, find comfort in her arms, and forget the past year and every change fate cruelly thrust onto him…Judgin
g from the trembling arousal he felt in her, he knew she’d give herself to him.
But he didn’t deserve to be redeemed. Certainly not by someone as selfless and good as Kate, certainly not when all he could do was take…her body, her innocence, the solace of being in her arms.
However much he wanted to stay, remaining here was madness. No one would fault him for fleeing back to London and letting Meacham sort out the rest of this mess.
Which was exactly what he needed to do.
“I’ll leave in the morning,” he informed her again, more to convince himself than her.
She rested her palm lightly against his chest, his heart beating fast beneath her fingertips. “You can stay a few more days, until Brannigan arrives.” It was not a question.
He said quietly, “I thought you wanted me to leave.”
“So did I,” she admitted, and his chest warmed undeservedly at the trust she showed him with her honest answer. “But I think I’ve changed my mind about you.”
He wanted to know exactly what she meant by that, but now was not the moment to press, not when she was being friendlier to him than she’d been since he arrived. Not when he was feeling at peace for the first time in well over a year. Perhaps in a decade.
“You truly want me to stay?” he murmured into her soft hair.
She nodded silently, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder.
So do I.
CHAPTER NINE
Katherine.
Through the night’s stormy darkness, Kate saw Edward approach.
The dark shadows highlighted his chiseled cheekbones, and in the flashes of lightning, she saw his eyes stare at her wickedly, blazing desire in their black depths. Each step brought him closer as if he were stalking her like a wolf coming to devour her. She shuddered against the overwhelming arousal flaming inside her, her breathing fast and shallow.
He leaned over her, his hands reaching for her shoulders. His warm touch radiated from everywhere, even inside her own body, and prickled heatedly across her arms, her face, her neck, over her breasts and down to that aching place between her legs. She throbbed, all the blood in her body pooling right there, and everything swirled around her, all inverted—up was down, rough was sweet, pleasure was agony.
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