Page 19 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

“Because with your permission I’m about to kiss the breath from your body and hopefully prove that I can be persuasive in ways you have yet to understand.”

“How do you know I don’t understand?”

“I know,” he said without an instant’s hesitation. “It isn’t a criticism. Furthermore, our embrace outside didn’t count, in case you were wondering. This one will. May I?”

“Yes,” she said with an appalling lack of reflection. Why not? She was free, socially a fallen woman. And he was more than attractive. Still, a kiss was one thing. But marriage?

He raised his hand to cradle her chin in his long fingers, and then she was dissolving, more entranced than resistant. His thumb sketched the shape of her mouth. She made a study of his face, from his dancing eyes to his aristocratic jaw. She found beauty and strength in every feature. The birthmark on his left cheek still intrigued her. She remembered that he had been mocked at school until he grew tall enough to take down his tormentors. She doubted anyone had teased him about his appearance in years.

“You are a delicious fly,” he said in amusement.

“How awful.”

His mouth brushed hers -- and her thoughts collapsed. She was enveloped in sensual enticement. “It’s all right,” he said quietly.

“No. It isn’t.”

“It’s only a gesture.”

“That’s what worries me,” she whispered. “There will be more of these gestures if we marry.”

“Count on it.”

Her heart raced against her ribs. He gathered her closer until the buttons of his waistcoat caught the silk rosettes that dipped into her white chemisette. She felt a surge of discontent, a warm throb in her belly. His mouth took hers in a presumption of intimacy that subdued any reflex but to savor the experience. Simon. Her past friend, and now?

“This is no sacrifice for me,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time.”

“Since a little before midnight?” she said tartly.

“Maybe a bit longer.”

He kissed her as if he had nothing to lose -- not his name, not the rest of his life. As if they were reunited lovers and not old friends forced into an uneasy alliance. The subtle pressure of his mouth, controlled sweetness and a beckoning to sin, beguiled her.

He curled his arm around her waist, urging her closer. “You are delectable,” he said. “And I am sunk.”

She, on the contrary, felt marked, alive, embarked on a dark adventure. His kiss seemed oddly right, a tumble into a sweet enigma set in motion years ago. Her blood sang. She leaned into his embrace. Her bodice molded to the hard contours of his chest.

He dragged his mouth from hers and kissed the arch of her throat to the border of roses above her breasts. “These little flowers are inconvenient, aren’t they?” he murmured impertinently.

“I’m sure it didn’t occur to the dressmaker that they’d hinder a seduction,” she said with a laugh.

“They wouldn’t normally.”

“Oh, Simon.”

“Your mouth is made for -- many purposes. Pleasures.”

“Battle cries?”

He walked his hand up and down the ruffles at her shoulder to the bare skin above her elbow. His fingers plucked negligently at a pearl button. “This isn’t the ideal scenario for a marriage offer, but I trust you know my intentions are sincere. I owe you my protection.”

“And your kisses? Are they sincere and owed me?”

“Yes. Don’t make it sound as if kissing you is an obligation,” he said without a vestige of embarrassment. “Passion will be part of our marriage. I wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstanding in that regard. At this moment I would love nothing better than to lavish your entire being in kisses, starting with the most sensitive places on your body. The nape of your neck. Your luscious breasts.”

She put her hand to her throat. “Is this your plan?”

“This is the part that exists only between you and me and does not require any thought.”