Scandalous Love by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

the raging urgency in her
veins, full coherence claimed Nicole. She knew, she had not one doubt, she had
just gone too far. No lady would do what she had done, or allowed what she
had allowed. Dismay filled her, chasing away all but her longing for him.
    Abruptly he rolled off
of her and sat up. He did not look at her. "You are right. I am
sorry."
    She had not expected
that, and Nicole closed her eyes briefly in relief. She prayed that his apology
meant that he would not condemn her as immoral. When she opened them he was
standing above her, staring down at her, his expression inscrutable, which made
him look even more forbidding than before. She tried to read his eyes, but they
were dark and hooded and it was impossible.
    He held out a hand, and
Nicole, flushing, accepted it. He drew her swiftly to her feet.
    She made a big show of
brushing off her skirts, so as not to have to meet his gaze again. She was
afraid to learn what he was really thinking, afraid she had just ruined herself
in his eyes. How could it be otherwise? She, who had never really cared before
what any man might think of her, had spent hours preparing for this meeting,
only to ruin it all with her wildness. "It's not your fault," she
said, swiping at her dress. She had the distinct urge to cry.
    "I know
better," he said calmly, still regarding her. "No lady deserves to be
tumbled in the dirt like a dairy maid."
    Astonished, she quickly
lifted her gaze to his. Again, she found his countenance unfathomable. But hope
filled her breast.    Are—are you angry
with me?
    For a moment, she
thought something flickered in his eyes. "I am not angry with you."
He paused. "No man could be angry with such a beautiful woman."
    Relief swamped her and
she almost sagged. She was too relieved to catch the forced tone of his words.
"You think... that I am beautiful?"
    He suddenly appeared
confused. Then he smiled, but it was nothing like the smile he had given her
before, it was sardonic. "Of course I find you beautiful, my dear. If I
did not know better, I would think you unsure of yourself." He laughed.
"If you insist upon flattery, I will oblige you."
    Something had happened,
and Nicole was not sure what it was. She saw the cynicism in his eyes. She
wasn't sure he was sincere, either, but then she remembered how he had kissed
her—and there had been nothing insincere in that.
    "Come to Chapman
Hall tomorrow." It was no request. "In the afternoon. I will be
expecting you."
    Nicole nodded,
wide-eyed, trembling, both dismayed and joyous. "I'll be there."
    He dropped a quick kiss
on her mouth. "You had better return to Dragmore now. I will accompany you
until you are in sight of the house."
    Nicole nodded, too
bedazzled by him to do anything other than agree.
    The Duke of Clayborough
had a tight rein on himself as he returned to Chapman Hall, the same strict
control he had been exercising since he had practically tumbled Nicole Shelton.
He was perturbed, even disturbed. For he could not deny what had happened. He
was a man of discipline, yet he had just lost his head—and every bit of iron
control he had. He had almost fornicated with Lady Shelton in the grass. She
had made him lose momentary control, and he did not like it. To make matters
worse, he was filled with anticipation of their next rendezvous.
    And the Duke was not a
man who daydreamed about women, or anything else, for that matter.
    Yet he was already
planning to sever his relationship with his current mistress, Miss Holland
Dubois, as soon as he returned to London. He had been bored with her this past
month; he had only visited her a half dozen times. To ease the separation, he
would shower her with a few jewels and a substantial amount of coin. He did not
look forward to the task, for mistresses invariably were furious when the
relationship was terminated, but she would have no trouble finding another
protector, for she was very beautiful, very accommodating and very skilled.
    Perhaps he would remain
a bit