Claiming the Courtesan

He must have read the refusal in her face, because he dropped her hand and looked past her with an attempt at his usual hauteur. “Of course you mus

t go.”

Ridiculous to be moved by his foolish pride. She reminded herself he plotted her destruction. But at the moment, it was difficult to think of him as the unrelenting, omnipotent Duke of Kylemore. If anything, he reminded her of Ben, who as a child had always been quickest to deny he wanted comfort just when he needed it most.

But he wasn’t Ben. He was the man who contrived to make her his slave. He was the man who, only hours ago, had come close to achieving that end. She was mad to pretend that a troubled, grieving Kylemore wasn’t as perilous to her as his daytime self ever was. Perhaps even more perilous.

His thin face indicated aristocratic disdain as he stared stoically into the distance. But shadows darkened the hollows around his eyes and a muscle jerked spasmodically in his cheek.

She’d regret relenting. Even as she placed the candle on the ugly oak side table and climbed onto the mattress, she knew she’d regret it. But common sense had lost all authority over her actions.

“Verity?”

When she didn’t answer, he shifted to make room for her.

She didn’t want to touch him. Although she might be a fool, she wasn’t that much of a fool. But while he was a lean man, lying apart from him on the narrow cot meant she only just balanced on the edge.

She was close enough for the heat of his body to curl out and beckon her nearer. She waited for him to haul her to him and spread her legs so he could rut over her, but instead, he lay still and tense beside her. It was as if somehow the rules of engagement between them had changed.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Verity became more and more uncomfortable. His musky scent was everywhere, reminding her cruelly of how she’d responded to him earlier.

What was the duke to make of her rebuffs when she came willingly to his bed now?

This was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“I should go,” she said shakily, starting to rise.

“No.”

He surged up and lashed his arms around her to drag her down so she lay with her back pressed to his chest. Through the silk of her robe, she felt him tremble. It vividly brought back the memory of how she’d found him. Hesitantly, knowing she was making one of the worst mistakes in her life, she turned and very gently embraced him.

“Sleep, Your Grace,” she whispered. “It’s not long until morning.” It was the same tone she’d used to soothe Ben and Maria when they’d woken frightened in the night.

She waited for mockery or triumph. After all, what credence would her claims that she hated him have when she lay here cradling him like the most precious thing on earth?

But for once, Kylemore’s cutting tongue was silent. Instead, he pulled her fully against him and relaxed with a great sigh. His bare flesh under her hands gradually lost its worrying coldness, and his breathing became deep and even.

The Duke of Kylemore slept in her arms.

Kylemore stirred from the sweetest sleep he could remember in years. The capricious Highland sun poured through the humble chamber’s uncurtained windows. It was warm. It was late. And he held a fragrant bundle of slumbering femininity within the shelter of his body.

Or actually, she held him. His head rested on Verity’s breast and her arms encircled him as though she protected him from every threat. Curious and rather sad to reflect that no one had ever held him like this before.

And even more curious that he should feel so safe in the arms of someone who detested him so virulently.

Detested him with good reason.

The unwelcome thought had no power to disturb him. He’d slept deeply and well. He’d woken with the woman he wanted above all others.

Literally. He was hard and ready.

But most curious of all, he made no attempt to seek relief. Although relief, asleep and defenseless, lay at hand.

He wished he were pitiless enough to take advantage of having her in his bed. He could be inside her before she woke. Before she set up any barriers. And after last night’s astounding inferno of pleasure, those barriers would be dangerously weak.

So why did he hesitate?

Perhaps because she’d conquered her fear and abhorrence to come to his aid. She’d joined him of her own free will and had offered solace where he’d deserved only loathing. She’d seen his pain and risked herself to ease it.