Page 33 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

“Indirectly, yes. She sent down a message through the footman that she was in the middle of an important appointment and wouldn’t see me until she was finished.”

“You have the devil’s timing.”

“Perhaps. Anyway, I don’t want to stir up dust. I want to reacquaint myself with you and that isn’t a royal secret. Thinking about kissing you again kept me up all the damned night.”

“You are a scandalous man to admit that this early in the morning. But -- if you really want to kiss me there’s nothing between us except a cushion and a false courtship.” She nudged the cushion to the carpet. “And one obstacle is gone.”

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you? I could take that as a gauntlet thrown.”

She glanced down, feeling worldly and half as wicked as he was. “It was. Do you accept?

“For life.”

He leaned into her until their lips almost touched. She waited and at length lifted her eyes. The naked fire in his gaze sent a flare of anticipation through her. He looked as if he had more on his mind than kissing her.

“Why are you frowning?” she whispered.

His fingertip shaped her cheekbone, her chin, and slowly dropped into the deep vale of her décolletage. Her lips parted on a silent exclamation. Wicked she’d wanted and he was as good as his word.

“I frown when I concentrate,” he said quietly.

She half-closed her eyes in expectation as his mouth nibbled her earlobe and then came down on hers. He drew her lower lip between his teeth. Her breathing suspended, she felt his hand brush the underside of her breast, a negligent caress that quickened her blood. His fingers outlined her taut nipple through her silk dress. He flicked his tongue across hers. An insistent throb spread through her stomach.

“Simon?”

“Mmm.” He molded his body to hers at an angle that warned her not to underestimate him. His heavy arousal pressed through the pleats of her gown. She sat tight, shaking inwardly, and prayed she would not melt in the heat of his body. Ruefully she realized that while she might aspire to be a wicked lady, she was in truth as worldly as the globe on Heath’s desk and as easily spun about.

His potent kiss pierced her to the core, promising dark pleasures that threatened and tempted at the same time.

“Ravenna?” he said, the hesitation in his voice penetrating her reverie.

She sighed in wistful chagrin. She’d lost awareness of everything else except him. He reached down for the cushion at the same moment as did she. She drew upright, regarding him with all the poise she could summon. “Yes?”

He propped the cushion back in place. “Don’t ask me to kiss you again today. There’s someone in the hall. Right outside the door, in fact. I don’t want to refuse you, but neither do I want to raise the wrath of the Boscastles.”

She smoothed out the off-shoulder neckline of her dress and whispered, “We are engaged, Simon. Some misbehavior is to be expected.”