Her heart began again but faster than it had before, and she couldn’t stop the grin from growing across her cheeks.
He thought it delightful!
She gazed up at him. She shouldn’t care what he thought. She never cared what anyone else thought. And yet hearing him approve of her actions filled her with a joy she had never before experienced.
“I suppose we ought to go then,” she said, though neither of them made a move to leave.
“I suppose we ought to.”
Still, neither moved. The air between them fizzed with passion, and as she stared into his eyes, she silently willed him to kiss her again. To take her as a man would.
Answering her plea, he raised his hand to her cheek and moved toward her. But she tensed suddenly, brought back to the real world.
“Yes, let’s get back,” she said and turned swiftly.
Too swiftly.
In her attempt to get away from her own feelings, she managed to trip over a rock. She would have tumbled to the ground had the duke not reached out and steadied her.
“Woah! Are you all right?” he asked.
She turned in his arms and looked up at him. He fully embraced her now, the hand that had grasped her arm to catch her now snaking across her back and pulling her in. Charlotte swallowed.
“Yes, quite.” Her voice had turned hoarse, her yearning for his touch caught in her throat.
Kiss me, she asked him in silence, her eyes pleading. He opened his mouth as if to speak, his eyes searching hers.Kiss me, she asked again, fearing he hadn’t understood.
And then he did. His lips touched hers tenderly. He tasted of salt and passion, and she straightened her back in a desperate attempt to get closer to him.
His hands roved over her body, searching as they had done before. Over the curve of her back, across her buttocks. Charlotte considered putting her own arms on him, touching him in those places she had longed to touch, but she could only kiss him, the soft moistness of his tongue against hers rendering her useless.
His hand moved up her side, his flat palm spread so that he could touch more of her at once. He ran up her waist and reached her breasts, pushing her away just far enough to gain access. He cupped her, the firmness of the squeeze enough to make her moan into his mouth. His fingers worked at the edge of the neckline, his bare skin against hers, hot at every touch. Her breath became heavier, more rapid, and she wanted it. She wanted it more than anything.
But then a finger snaked down between the fabric of her clothing and her skin. The tip of his nail brushed against her nipple, sending a shiver down her spine, causing her most private part to tense and clench.
With a gasp, she leaped backward, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, quite unable to meet his gaze.
“I-I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I can’t. I just can’t.”
Chapter 15
Charlotte spun around and ran across the rough grass before the duke could reach out and stop her. She couldn’t bear to see the look in his eyes. The desire. The disappointment. Everything she felt in herself and more.
Why did I run when this is what I have craved for so long?
But craving something and experiencing it are very different, and Charlotte’s body yearned for things she did not yet understand. It was no longer a naughty dream, some silly thing she could keep to herself. To experience it with someone else, with a man, was salacious and wrong, and she found her mind clouded with shame.
She had no right to act in such a lascivious way with a man who was not —and would never be—her husband. She had no desire to, either. Or at least, she didn’t until she saw him, and then her resolve fell away. He made her weak; he made her hungry. He turned her into an animal searching only for satisfaction.
Upon returning to the house, she sneaked around the side and into the servants’ entrance, as she had done so many timesbefore. She had no desire to see anyone, let alone speak with them, but she needed to bathe and change for dinner.
She was only glad she’d had the forethought to ask the maid to prepare a bath for when she returned to her room, the tin had already been filled in front of the fire. She’d always hated using the family’s main bathing room, preferring instead to wash in the privacy of her chamber.
The maid had left her a large towel to dry herself off and a jug of wine for refreshments. Charlotte shed her clothes quickly, the fire hot against her naked back as she stepped into the water.
It was tepid but pleasant enough, and she sank into its welcoming embrace with relief. She rested her head against the curve of the tin and closed her eyes. She could forget all about the silliness of the day. He had probably only kissed her because he thought her loose of moral in her trousers.
Except, as soon as she had decided to forget it, images of the duke came back to her, and her body was immediately stirred. The feelings, the desire, it seemed only to increase and never go away, but she knew one way to rid herself of it. She knew she would hate herself for it afterwards, filled with guilt at her wantonness, but the temptation was too much. She let her hand fall between her legs.
