My Darling Duke

He hadn’t forgotten that shocking statement. Her voice had been so quiet, the hint of vulnerability and apprehension in it digging sharp claws of discomfort into his conscience.

You’ll recover.

How cold and unfeeling he’d sounded when everything inside him had been burning with hunger to taste, to smell, to simply touch her. Alexander was damned if he knew how to handle what she made him feel. He had nothing to offer as a broken man. He knew this… It had been imprinted on his soul. He’d accepted years ago that normalcy in a relationship would not be for him, so it would be a waste of his energy and time to pursue anything in that direction. And he was not the kind of man to invest where there would be no gain.

What is it that I hope for?

Instead of launching from the bed as he’d anticipated, she shifted closer to him, her shoulder bumped fleetingly against his shoulder.

“I never knew a kiss could taste like sunshine,” she said softly.

“And also of the storm,” he murmured.

Alexander swore he felt the smile blooming on her face.

If he didn’t breathe, maybe she would touch him.

And she did. A fleeting caress against his knuckles. Ah yes…Christ.

“I truly believe, Miss Danvers, there are infinite possibilities for us as kissing friends.”

“You mustn’t give me encouragement of this sort; I can be frightfully wicked,” she teased.

He arched a brow but did not look at her. If he did, he would ruin his honor and trust by hauling her into his arms. “Oh?”

“Yes,” she said, at once prim and mischievous. How did she do it?

They stared at each other at the same time, and he smiled at the fancy of it.

“You want to kiss me again,” she said with a sigh, her expression hidden in the flickering shadows.

“I do, Miss Danvers.”

“I thought we’d agreed on informality.”

“When I want to save myself from acting the fool…I must say Miss Danvers.”

Her eyes widened. “I quite like your name on my lips, Alexander.”

“And I treasure the soun

d of it.”

She turned more toward him, and it was the daring tigress who peered up at him. Then, as if the most natural thing in the world, his wicked hellion kissed him. Her fingers threaded through his hair. Her lips, her mouth, moved over his with scorching carnality. She made the softest, sweetest sounds of pleasure against his lips, and Alexander hoarded them, interring them deep in his heart where the memory would sustain him for years to come.

Something he had thought long dead rose from the silent depths of his soul. It stirred, stretched, and hummed as a blast of pleasure and pain arrowed through his cock.

Sweet mercy…what in God’s name is this?

Chapter Eleven

With a virulent curse, Alexander pulled from Katherine and launched from the bed. Too fast and without form. The muscles of his legs twisted, pain ricocheted up his back, and his leg crumpled. He stumbled back against the bed, and with a cry, she jerked up to catch him. His weight flattened her against the bed, and it was all so ridiculous, he laughed.

“This is not remotely humorous,” she muttered, her lips pressing against his shoulder.

With a grunt, he moved, and she scrambled from beneath his weight. He shifted onto the bed, and the pain came, a dark tide that rolled over him, freezing him in place. It spasmed from his calf, the muscles knotting in urgent demand, his heart racing, his body tensing against the agony. He’d thought he defeated the episode earlier when he’d spent almost an hour working through the knots and cramps while she’d slept.

“Let me,” she whispered, coming up on her knees and pushing the two pillows beneath his leg.