Slowly, almost indiscernibly at first, she drew her hand out of his grasp. Their fingers slid together, a tantalizing touch, then all was gone, and she stood before him with her hands latched together in front of her.
“Well,” she whispered, wetting her lips and clearing her throat, clearly struggling to speak at all. “I suppose no woman will ever change your mind, will she?”
He couldn’t help it. He moved toward her, upon instinct. He had to show her. Where words would not do, he would show her instead. He placed a hand delicately to the side of her waist, waiting to see if she would pull back, but she did not, then he bent down to her head height and moved his lips toward hers, kissing her as gently yet as earnestly as he could.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Stunned for a second, Charlotte was wooden in the duke’s grasp. She didn’t dare move, in case she woke herself from this dream, but his lips, soft yet firm against her own, urged her to believe this was real. He was truly kissing her.
One of her hands snaked up between them. Acting on instinct, she clung onto the lapel of his jacket and returned the kiss with vigor. They both moved closer toward one another, the intimacy in the room so palpable that Charlotte was giddy with it.
Oh, this is what a kiss is like…
It was overwhelming and thrilling, yet the knowledge that the duke was kissing her, that was what was truly special.
I am kissing the duke. Gerard… I am kissing a man who has vowed never to marry, least of all me.
This thought struck her like a cold bucket of water over her head. She pulled back sharply, making a small squeaking sound into the kiss. She backed away from him so far that she collided with one of the armchairs he had pushed to the side of the room.
“Charlotte?” he whispered her name, his eyebrows shooting high.
Her body was cold without the soft touch of his lips on hers and his palm to her waist. In that moment, she had changed. She had been shown what true affection was like, only for her to know it would never be repeated. He was torturing her with what could be.
“That… that should not have happened.” She spoke hurriedly, lifting her hand and covering her lips.
“Well, I had nay idea I was that bad a kisser.”
“What? No! That was a good kiss.”
He smiled a little at her words, and she waved her hand in the air madly, suddenly infuriated at him.
“That is beside the point!”
“Is it?” he asked calmly, taking another step toward her, but she ran away from him now, darting behind the armchair and using it as a barrier between them. He fell completely still. He noted the distance, the smile falling from his lips, as he slipped hishands into his pockets. “Ye’re runnin’, lass. I always kenned ye would someday.”
“You cannot kiss a woman you have no intention of marrying. Have you learned nothing in these lessons?”
“To be fair, we havenae covered kissin’.”
“I should not have to!”
“Charlotte.” His voice was deep, calming, but it had little effect on her. Her heartbeat was completely erratic now, thundering in her ribcage. “It happened. Ye and I both wanted it.”
“Yet nothing can come of it. I know that. You have just told me as much.” She waved a hand at him, waiting for him to deny it, to say suddenly that he had changed his mind, that he was willing to marry after all, but he did no such thing. He grimaced instead, a perfect frown appearing on his features, then he looked away.
She groaned inwardly at that expression. He had dashed all her hopes, and she supposed he had no idea to the true extent that he was breaking her heart into pieces. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back madly.
I have to get out of here. Now!
“I must marry,” Charlotte murmured hurriedly. “I have plans for my future, and as you have no intention to marry?—”
“Who then? Who is it you intend to marry?” He whipped his head around to face her. His face was set like thunder. “That man who tried to dance with you at the ball? Mr. Withers?”
“Michael Withers,” she murmured. She had barely spoken to Mr. Withers, and they had certainly had no conversation since the assembly, but he was as good a name as any. “Yes. That’s him.”
The duke suddenly cursed under his breath. He stepped away and ran a hand through his hair, then turned sharply back.
“Him!?” he muttered, as if this was a cursed in itself. “Why pick him?”
