The Duchess of Love by Sally Mackenzie Read Free Book Online Page B

such things.
    â€œHot?” Mr. Valentine asked.
    â€œYes. The weather is stifling.”
    â€œI don’t know. I think there’s a bit of a breeze.”
    Blast it, so there was. Time to change the subject. “I have a bone to pick with you, sir.”
    â€œYou do? And here I thought I’d been the complete gentleman. What is the problem?”
    â€œDon’t pretend innocence.” She looked up into his deep blue eyes with their long, long lashes. He looked like a choirboy, not the slippery fellow he was.
    The sensation of his wet arms slipping over her naked body was so strong, she shivered. She forced her gaze ahead—and had the startling sight of Ditee talking in a distinctly animated fashion to a marriageable male. Good heavens! Her sister was even smiling.
    Venus should be delighted that her matchmaking looked to be well under way, but she wasn’t. She was too … annoyed with the man next to her.
    â€œI’m not pretending,” he said. “I sincerely don’t know what has put you in a pet.”
    She clenched her teeth. “If you’ll forgive me, I find that hard to believe.”
    They reached Mr. Fenwick’s establishment. The duke escorted Ditee inside; Venus turned and poked the miscreant next to her in the chest.
    â€œYou acted as though you had no idea who I was when we met at”—she felt herself flush—“before, but then I found out you’d written to Papa.”
    Mr. Valentine’s eyes looked decidedly wary. “Er, I did?”
    â€œYes, as well you know. You wrote him about some article he’d written in The Classical Gazette . So why didn’t you mention that fact?”
    His lips twitched into a half smile. “I was distracted.”
    â€œBy what?” She crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. This should be interesting.
    He glanced down the street and took her hand, directing her away from the shop door. They were in plain view of anyone passing by, but enough out of the way that someone would have to walk over to them to hear what they were saying.
    His smile had widened and his eyes were gleaming with mischief … and something far hotter. “Do you have to ask?”
    â€œY-yes.” What game was he playing now? He’d kept hold of her hand and was drawing circles in her palm with his thumb. She felt it all the way through her glove to her, er … core might be the most polite way to refer to the area of her person that was fluttering and growing embarrassingly damp. “I have n-no i—” She sucked in her breath. His thumb had moved to the inside of her wrist, setting her disreputable core to throbbing.
    She snatched her hand away from him. “I have no idea why you wouldn’t have revealed such an important point.”
    â€œHmm.” He appeared to study her face. She’d swear there were little flames flickering deep in his eyes. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt her lips swell. “What are we talking about?” he whispered, his voice rather hoarse.
    What indeed?
    Her lips ached to feel his touch. Would he—
    Good God! She jerked her head back. “Don’t try to avoid the question. You were about to tell me how you could have neglected to mention you’d corresponded with my father.”
    â€œOh, that’s easy. I wasn’t thinking about your father.”
    â€œWhat were you thinking about?”
    Oh, dear, perhaps that was a bad question to ask. If Mr. Valentine’s expression had been warm before, it was scorching now.
    â€œI was thinking how beautiful you were with your long, chestnut-colored hair and lovely creamy skin”—he leaned closer, dropping his voice to a hot, deep whisper—“ all your creamy skin.”
    Her knees felt as if they might give out. She put her hands on his chest to steady herself, and his fingers came up to cover them.
    â€œAnd when most women would have been terrified, you were