The Duke's Reluctant Bride

For a moment, she leaned against the cool column, thankful for the reprieve. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. As soon as her head stopped spinning, she would be able to go back inside.

But now here he was, standing in the half-light, offering for her hand.

“What does love have to do with marriage?” the Duke asked her with amusement, her angry outburst obviously not deterring him from his cause. “I am proposing a fuss-free arrangement; you become my wife and I return the estate to your brother. It’s quite simple.”

“But what do you gain from all this, Your Grace?” Emma asked with genuine interest.

“An heir."

A bubble of laughter escaped from Emma, who clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself .

“Are you laughing at me?” The Duke’s face was dark with annoyance.

“No,” Emma said.

“So I am to take it that you are refusing my offer?”

She nodded her head in answer to his question. “Yes. I don't like you and I never will."

A dark shadow fell over the Duke's face, and for a moment Emma was slightly nervous. His grip on her hand tightened and she found herself being backed against the wall, the Duke’s broad frame dwarfing her own.

“Perhaps I can give you one compelling reason to marry me, if your family’s fortune is not reason enough,” the Duke said, his deep dark eyes scanning her face with hunger. Before Emma could protest, or even begin to make sense of what was happening, the Duke had her pinned against the wall, his body pressed against hers, his lips capturing her own in a deep, passionate kiss.

It was as though she had melted, Emma’s knees were as weak as jelly as the Duke claimed her mouth with his own. One arm encircled her waist, while the other pinned her ruthlessly, yet passionately against the wall.

Emma knew she should protest, but she moaned consent against his lips. She was too far gone for fear. There was only need and hunger and his wild, wild kisses. He tensed against her, but she gripped his shoulders. All that mattered was that he shared more of those shattering sensations.

“Stop this indecent behavior at once!” her aunt shouted. They stopped and turned their attention to the veranda where a group of people rushed outside to see what caused the commotion.

It took Emma a moment to realize how bad the situation looked.

“Aunt Caroline, please hush,” Emma said urgently, and without effect. “You’ll have everyone in here to see what the fuss is about.”

“How could you? You wicked, wicked girl. How could you?” And a litany of similar complaints about her niece’s character and morals.

“Emma, how could you do this? How? Oh, I can’t even look at you!” Aunt Caroline sucked in a noisy breath. “And still you sit there, basking in your sin.”

“Aunt, there’s a perfectly innocent explanation—”

Emma's face was flushed, her dress was rumpled, she was ruined now for sure, there was no hiding what she had been doing with the Duke of Daventry.

Emma’s uncle turned his attention back to Emma and the gentleman standing next to her. “I trust your little tryst will lead to a wedding?”

Emma’s eyes grew wide. A wedding?

“I’d like to discuss your marriage to my niece,” her uncle said.

“Indeed,”Alexander replied.

“I suppose you’ll want an elaborate wedding.”

Emma's jaw dropped. An elaborate wedding? Up to five minutes ago, she wasn’t even engaged! Before she could respond, a cunning smile crossed the Duke of Daventry’s face.

“As luck would have it, I need to return to Langley Manor soon. I’m afraid there will be no time for such a wedding. We’ll have to make do with a private affair.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him and removed her hand from his arm. “I don’t care. I don’t even want to marry you.”

“Emma, let’s not be rash,” her aunt argued.