Surrender The Night by Colleen Shannon Read Free Book Online

responsibilities. He’d wed only a blue blood as wealthy as himself.
    The knowledge sharpened rather than appeased her yearn ing. No, she couldn’t become his mistress, but she could share with him a last embrace. Fodder to feed her foolish dreams, she scorned herself, but had he reeked of brimstone in that moment, she still could not have denied him. Or herself.
    “Yes, Devon,” she whispered, calling him by his name for the second and last time. At least so she thought.
    He went still, but she didn’t see his longing, for her eyes were closed. His hands cupped her cheeks to tilt her face to his. His mouth brushed hers, fresh, redolent as her childhood memory of the warm bread in her grandfather’s kitchen. She savored the gentle kiss that was just as hearty, just as addictive, but instead of sating her, he left her hungry for more. When he pulled her into his arms, she went gladly.
    The gentle suction deepened, hardened, as he urged her lips apart. He teased the comers of her mouth with tiny nibbles, then licked the tingling nerves. When she instinctively opened her mouth wider, he delved inside, learning all the exotic tastes and textures she’d long denied him. His arms tightened until his waistcoat buttons dug into her bosom, but she didn’t notice. Her hair flowed over his arm as he pressed her back against the seat, his tongue knowing every sweet crevice and secret hollow of her mouth. But when he eased back to unbutton the jacket, she came to her senses. She pressed her hands into his shoulders.
    “That’s enough—” '
    His pleasure-slurred voice disturbed the hairs near her ear. “Give me more than a taste. I’m starving for the full course, Kat.”
    Her body screamed with the need to let this go where it would, but Katrina had been raised to respect the power of thought. She mastered her pulsing weakness and pushed harder, slipping out from under him.   “No, I tell you! I owe you my gratitude, and you have it. Thank you again. But don’t spoil my memories by insisting on more.” She scrambled to the other side of the carriage, her bosom heaving, her cheeks flushed.
    His hands reached out as if to grab her, then they clenched and dropped. He turned to wrench the curtain aside and peer out.
    When Katrina had swallowed her tears, she let herself look at him one last time. And for the first time she let herself think of what she was giving up in the name of morality. The feel of him, hard, warm, secure, had aroused so many urges within her. For scented sheets, a dark room, a bottle of wine; freedom, blessed freedom, from right, wrong, morality, or duty. But even more, he made her long for hearth and home, for shared travail and laughter.
    This last need, its nobility made ignominious by circum stance, bolstered her. Far better to suffer now at this parting than to grow to care for him even more, then be cast aside when he was bored. She didn’t fool herself like so many had done that she alone could be the one to capture his heart. She knew he had one, but she sensed no woman had ever touched it. She was neither foolish enough, nor brave enough, to believe she could be the first. She forced herself to turn away.
    She, too, watched as the scenery slowly became familiar. When they were a street away from her employer’s house, she mumbled, “Please stop here. It’s best that they don’t see your carriage.”
    He didn’t move to tap on the window, so she repeated herself, louder.
    His reply was most peculiar. ‘ ‘Please, Kat. I ask you once more. Go with me. Let me show you what we can give one another.”
    “I cannot. Now please, stop.”
    Again no reply. His shoulders lifted in a weary sigh. Then, quietly, “Very well, my dear. On your head be it.”
    She stiffened. She jerked the curtains farther back and saw that they’d already reached the respectable but plain brick house. She lunged for the door, but he tugged her back, opened the coachman’s window, and pulled a card from his