The Duchess Hunt by Jennifer Haymore Read Free Book Online Page A

with Esme. I
can lay it all out for my sister if you’d prefer, but if she has any sense at
all, she’ll come to the same conclusion.”
    Sarah sighed. She knew Esme well enough to
believe that she would indeed agree with this plan – to Esme, Sarah was as
comfortable as a well-worn old blanket and preferable to a stranger any day –
but whether her agreement would be based on sense, Sarah had her doubts.
    Still, she understood Simon’s logic. He
was willing to risk a relatively minor scandal, in this case, for the ultimate
good of his family.
    It warmed her that he thought her presence
would be for the good of his family.
    “Very well,” she told him. “I’ll go.”
    He raised a brow. “But you don’t wish to?”
    She hesitated, then smiled. “I haven’t
ventured beyond the village since I first stepped foot into Ironwood Park
sixteen years ago. During those years, I have watched you and your siblings
come and go again and again, and…” Her voice dwindled.
    “And…?”
    She squeezed the front edge of the bench,
the marble cold and hard under her palms. “Well,” she admitted, “I’ve always
wished I could go with you.”
    He smiled at that, showing that slight
cleft in his chin. She’d pressed her lips there three years ago. She averted
her gaze.
    “You should have told one of us sooner,”
he said.
    She laughed softly. “Lord knows what
people might have thought if I accompanied Lord Luke to the Continent or Lord
Theo to Cambridge.”
    A shadow passed over his face. As he
looked away, Sarah saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, and it struck her then
exactly what people would have thought.
    “Oh,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean in
that way.”
    He was silent for a moment before his gaze
swung back to her. “I know you didn’t.”
    But the way he looked at her, his eyes
narrowing, turning dark green and hungry and possessive, stole her breath.
    In three years, Simon’s skin hadn’t come
in contact with hers. But it did now, warm and firm, his fingers heavy and
blunt and so masculine as he cupped her face in his palm. His cedar scent
wrapped around them both like a cocoon, and his heat radiated through her.
    She tried so hard not to close her eyes,
to sink into his palm. But the pleasure of touching him was so overwhelming,
she couldn’t help herself.
    “The last time we were here… on this
bench…” His voice was a husky whisper. “It was so long ago, but I’ve craved
your mouth ever since.”
    Heat emanated from him. His breath
whispered across her cheek. She released a shaky sigh of pleasure at his words.
    “I’ve wanted to touch you everywhere. Kiss
you all over.”
    She opened her eyes, because she wanted to
see him as she leaned closer in —
    He dropped his hand from her face, jerking
back as if she’d burned him.
    “God.” A low groan emitted from his throat
as he thrust his hand into his hair and turned away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
have said that.”
    “It’s… all right…” she managed to say
through her dry throat. Her skin was still buzzing from the contact, her cheek
tingling and warm where he’d touched her.
    “Sarah – it was a mistake. I shouldn’t
ever have touched you. It was disrespectful of me… and wrong.”
    “Oh… Your Grace. No.” She had felt
anything but disrespected that night. She’d felt…
desired
. And for the last three years, she’d
savored that feeling.
    “It was late at night, and I took
advantage of you.”
    “No,” she repeated.
    “I shouldn’t have.”
    He rose to his feet. She, stubbornly,
remained seated.
    He clenched his hands at his sides. “I’ve
spent three years reminding myself of how wrong it was to touch you, and yet I
sit here and all I can think about is putting my hands all over you. Tasting
you all over again.”
    His words sent a delicious shudder through
her body. She wanted that, too. She gazed up at him, waiting, wishing he’d give
in and sit beside her again, take her into his arms, and drown her in