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

his
kisses.
    Raising his hand, he bent his head and
rubbed his temple, then blew out a breath and met her gaze again. “I shouldn’t
– mustn’t – touch you. I want to do right by you, Sarah. It is morally
reprehensible for me to have these feelings for someone who is under my care.”
    If she were a London debutante, it might
be different. But she was Sarah Osborne, his head housemaid, and she understood
exactly why Simon felt like it would be morally reprehensible to touch her
again. It had everything to do with those vast chasms that separated her social
class from his.
    Damn them, she thought brutally. Why must
it matter? He was hungry for her – she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his
words. And, Lord knew, she was hungry for him, too.
    Her gaze dropped to his fist, clenched so
desperately at his side. He really did believe it would be wrong to touch her.
She knew Simon’s deepest fear was that he’d become like his parents, whose
lives had been replete with scandal, betrayal, and flagrant promiscuity.
    Above all, she didn’t want him to lose
sight of who he was, who he wanted to be, who he never intended to be.
    If he ever did touch her again, she didn’t
want him to regret it afterward.
    So she took a deep breath and rose,
brushing the wrinkles from her skirt to keep her shaky hands occupied. Giving
him a slight smile, she asked, “Walk me home?”
    “Of course.”
    They walked down the path side by side.
Awareness of him still resonated through her, stronger than ever. She watched
him from the corner of her eye as they walked.
    She knew there was wisdom in his
reluctance. His brother Luke had boldly ventured into an affair with one of the
maids at Ironwood Park once, and it had turned into an unpleasant situation all
around. What could come of a relationship between a housemaid and a duke? Very
little but heartbreak for the housemaid. Sarah knew this. She wasn’t stupid.
    Her traitorous body clearly had no
intention of listening to her mind, though, because it desperately longed for
more of his touch. For another of those hot, passion-filled kisses of three
years ago. For
more
.
    Simon stared ahead, silent and brooding,
his gaze never wavering from the path. When it narrowed in spots, he stepped
aside to give her a wide enough berth to pass before falling in behind her.
    The distance to Papa’s cottage felt
interminable when it usually seemed so short. When they finally reached the
cottage door, Simon finally spoke. “I don’t want you walking the grounds alone
anymore. Not until we discover exactly what happened to the duchess. I should have
had someone walk you home tonight.”
    “But —”
    He raised his hand. His gaze drilled into
her. “From now until we leave for London, a footman will accompany you where
you need to go.”
    She sighed. “All right.”
    Stepping forward, he bent low over her,
his eyes narrow. “I know you, Sarah. You haven’t stopped wandering about since
you were eight years old. Promise me you won’t until we’re sure it’s safe.”
    He was close enough that she could wrap
her arms around him and pull him to her. Her gaze flickered to his parted lips,
so close, so deliciously edible. Her heartbeat spiked in anticipation. And for
the first time, she realized she could do it, if she chose to. She could bring
her lips to his and take them. He wasn’t the only one who could initiate a
kiss. She could kiss him, too.
    But before she had a chance to adequately
process this new information or to consider her options further, he repeated in
a low growl, “Promise, Sarah.”
    “I promise,” she breathed. She didn’t take
her eyes from his lips. Her voice could have fluttered away on the wings of a
butterfly.
    He straightened and took a step back.
“Good.” He gave a short nod, but his eyes had lightened, and his hungry gaze
burned hot under her skin. “Good night, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    With that, he swiveled and retreated down
the path, leaving