Page 53 of If the Duke Demands

She whispered, “That he would be proud of you for coming to a woman’s defense.”

“The same woman I nearly ruined myself at the opera?” he challenged quietly.

Her chest tightened in sympathy for him, that he should doubt himself so severely in his father’s eyes. “You and Williams arenothingalike. You’re a gentleman who would never force his attentions on a woman.” She couldn’t read the emotions on his face through the dark shadows, but his shoulders remained stiff, his dark silhouette rigid in the swaying carriage. He didn’t believe her. “If you’re not a gentleman, then why did you give me that paper rose tonight?”

“Because I was anything but a gentleman to you.” His voice matched the same low rumble of the carriage wheels over the streets. “I had no right to speak to you the way I did.”

A smile pulled at her lips. All his silly warnings…“See? Williams would never have—”

“And absolutely no right to do what I did at the opera. I forgot myself.” He held her gaze across the dark compartment. “It was a mistake.”

Her heart skipped painfully. Hoping she’d heard him incorrectly, or that she’d simply misunderstood what he meant, she repeated in a stunned whisper, “A mistake?”

He answered soberly, “Yes.”

The single word tore through her, ripping into her chest and squeezing so hard at her heart she thought it might pop. She blinked back the stinging that burned in her eyes.

“Which?” she somehow forced out despite the way her heart lodged into her throat. “Kissing me, touching me…or implying that you wanted me?”

“All of it.” Shadows covered his face, making it impossible for her to read the emotions in him, but an underlying frustration scratched his voice. “I should never have kissed you like that or said those things to you. I didn’t mean them.”

“Then why did you?” She forced a steadiness into her voice she certainly didn’t feel.

“I lost my head that evening. I was swept up by the music. That was all.” He paused, then added quietly, “And I’m grateful that you came to your senses and put a stop to it.”

She stared at him through the darkness, even as hot tears welled in her eyes and blurred his darkened face. It shouldn’t matter what she meant to him, what he thought of her, or even if he thought of her at all—Sebastian Carlisle, Duke of Trent, was never meant for her. He was meant for women like Lady Jane. But somehow, his opinion of her had come to matter. Somewhere between all the fighting and all the plotting to find each other the people they thought they wanted, she’d come to care about him. More than she ever dreamt possible. And now, for him to say that what they’d shared was a mistake—

“Liar.”

Her cutting accusation was little louder than a breath, but it tore through the compartment with the force of cannon fire. He flinched at its intensity.

“I know why you’re saying this, why you’re—” Her voice choked as a knot of emotion tightened in her throat. She forced out through her frustration, “Because you don’t want to admit that you want me. Not the orphaned niece of your tenant. Not you, not a duke…someone who’s supposed to want only fine ladies and society daughters.” When she saw his eyes flare in the shadows, she knew she was right and charged on, remembering Diana’s words at the ruins. “But you do.”

He clenched his hands into fists. “I need someone who can be my duchess,” he ground out, dodging her accusation.

“A perfect duchess who will never do anything improper, never stir up gossip nor cause any trouble? Yes, the duke in you does want that.” Her heart raced with anger and something else just as dark, just as powerful. Something that had her wanting to stir the heated anger inside him until it boiled over. “But the man wantsme,” she dared to whisper.

“I don’t,” he bit out.

She shook her head, recognizing that for the lie it was. “I’m the girl from next door who will never fit the ideals of proper and well-bred, who’s common and ordinary, with her freckled nose and garish hair. But who also makes you laugh and enjoy yourself. The woman who is completely wrong for the duke, but completely right for the man.”

His eyes flickered in the shadows of the lamplight as he growled, “I donotwant you.”

“Yes, you do.” Then she pushed him right over the cliff— “And you can’t stand yourself for it.”

With an angry, frustrated snarl, he grabbed her and yanked her across the compartment to him. She gave a soft cry of surprise as she landed sprawled across his lap.

He forced out through clenched teeth, his mouth only a hairsbreadth from hers, “Ican’twant you, goddammit!”

“But you do,” she breathed, so softly that the sound was nearly lost in the shadows. All of her trembled. “And it isn’t a mistake.”

His gaze dropped to her lips, then his mouth came down hard and demanding against hers. Her mind swirled from the onslaught of anger and arousal burning through them both in equal measure. She opened her mouth beneath the hungry desire of his kiss and heard the low moan of need tear from her own throat.

When he plunged his tongue between her lips, she welcomed his rough assault, her tongue entwining around his and sucking him deeper into her mouth. Instead of being alarmed at his loss of control, she thrilled to it. She snaked her hand up to his nape and ran her fingers encouragingly through his silky hair as he continued to ravish her mouth in a kiss that was more hungry, more demanding and possessive than she could ever have imagined. One she wanted just as much as he did.

When she could no longer sustain the breathless kiss, she tore her mouth away to gasp for air. Her fingers tugged at his cravat and collar to bare his throat to her greedy mouth, and excitement surged through her to feel the tattoo of his pulse racing against her lips. He tasted delicious, of man and port and tobacco, and she couldn’t get enough of him to satisfy her appetite. Couldn’t torture him enough with her own kisses that fanned the angry burn inside him.

“I stir your blood,” she mumbled against his throat, thrilling to know that it was true. “You told me so.”