“Had you any serious pursuits?”
She recalled a time before Papa died, a time she hadn’t thought about in years. “I wanted to see the world. We spent most of our lives in Hertfordshire. And I imagined the world to be quite large. Papa bought me a globe for my fifteenth birthday and a fire lit inside me. I wanted to see it all, Egypt, the Americas, China, India. Even when Mamma lamented how unrefined everyone else was, how uncivilized and savage, I wanted to see it for myself. Overnight, Hertfordshire became a grain of sand, and I hungered for the entire ocean. It was all I dreamed about, it was all I spoke of. Mamma wanted to ship me off to school to reform my manners,” she said with a ripple of mirth. “Papa would not hear of it, and because she loved him so much…somehow Papa convinced Mamma that my oddities were practical and sensible, and my whimsies were indulged.”
“Hmm, as I indulge you shamelessly?”
“I declare it to be so,” she said softly, not understanding why her heart pounded in this manner. This feeling brewing between them, this feeling of comfort, of…friendship. Was it one-sided? How she wished to ask.
“You miss your father.”
An ache built in her chest. “I do.”
“How long has he been gone?”
She hesitated slightly. “Almost five years.”
The bed dipped as he shifted on his side to face her, his hands still propped behind his head. “You are smiling, Miss Danvers.”
“I was thinking how wonderfully odd this all is. We are sharing stories…as if we are…”
“Friends?” he asked archly.
Kitty silently admitted she’d never experienced anything so wicked and improper, and having such an attachment with the duke promised pleasure, darkly and sweetly. “It is strange. I’ve only ever spoken this way to my other sinful wallflowers.”
“Oh? I sense a fascinating story.”
“One you’ve not earned yet,” she teased, almost hating the ease at which they bantered. She liked and admired the duke so, yet she was a mere plaything that he would eventually tire of and discard. Worse, she wanted to kiss him. It was a desire she had been denying since their carriage ride from London.
“So you are no longer worried being alone with me, hmm?”
She scowled. The wretched tease. “Your reputation had given me pause, but I can see it does not precede you.”
He lifted an arrogant brow. “And which reputation do you throw at me, Miss Danvers?”
She hesitated, not sure why she wanted to tease him so in return. “The one that called you mad, bad, and dangerous.”
Amusement lit in his eyes, and her heart shivered to see it.
“You’ve also forgotten the fiendishly sinful bit,” he drawled, eyes alight with provoking humor and something so warm, her mouth dried.
“I was about to come to it,” she said with a smile. “Mad, bad, dangerous, and fiendish. A truly appalling combination.” Her heart whispered “ruthless” and “indomitable,” qualities she should not admire so.
He touched her face fleetingly, his finger leaving a trail of warmth across her cheek. She felt the pull of his stroke in her belly. It was a rather disconcerting sensation.
“And do you believe everything you read, Miss Danvers?”
His question was a wicked purr of warning, one she had no intention of heeding. Later she would blame it on being locked in a small cottage, with the rain hammering against the slatted roof and windowpane. The fire in the hearth danced merrily, yet the room was cast in intimate shadows. The silence that stretched between them was filled with something dangerous and exciting.
A reckless and wholly improper feeling stirred inside her. I want to kiss him, and I am a silly wretch to think it!
“Your scowls are frightening me, Miss Danvers. Pray tell what murder and mayhem do you currently contemplate?”
Each time he teased her, Kitty hungered to clasp his jaw and kiss him with all the brewing passion in her heart. She felt she would slowly expire from the torture of always wanting, not knowing, endlessly desiring him. That frustration and hunger snapped, uncoiling within her. She shifted closer, ignoring his start of surprise, stretched up against him, and pressed her lips quickly to his, entirely without grace.
Kitty fastened her mouth to his—it was awkward yet so wonderfully tender. She paused, holding her breath, waiting for his response…which never came.
Mortification pinched her and she pulled away, a trembling sigh falling from her lips.
The duke was remarkably still, his eyes hooded and unfathomable. A battle flashed across his shadowed features—stark hunger, uncertainty, before aloofness painted a curiously indifferent mask. “What did I do to deserve such attentions?” he drawled.