Dukes Done Wrong

I don’t need your pity, Miss Jen­son,” Miles said harshly.

It isn’t pity I feel, Your Grace. It is sor­row for the injus­tice you suf­fered. Heartache for the help­less lit­tle boy who was uproot­ed from his home and tak­en from every­thing he had ever known.”

His hands tight­ened on hers. “And what do you feel for the man, Miss Jenson?”

Desire,” she whispered.

His eyes dark­ened. “So do I.”

His head bent, mov­ing clos­er until his lips touched hers. A spark flashed between them. He released her hands and took her by the shoul­ders, draw­ing her to him, even as his mouth pressed firm­ly against hers. Her palms moved to his broad chest, feel­ing the hard mus­cles beneath his lay­ers of clothing.

Emery had nev­er been kissed. A hum­ming seemed to invade her body and her sens­es sharp­ened. The feel of his wool coat beneath her palms. The san­dal­wood soap ris­ing from his heat­ed skin. Hers, too, felt on fire as he con­tin­ued to kiss her, mak­ing her heart slam against her ribs and her knees threat­en to buckle.

This was madness.

Emery was kiss­ing a duke. In pub­lic. A man so far above her sta­tion that it caused her head to reel. Though they were in the far cor­ner of the church’s grave­yard, any­one who entered it might see them.

She pushed him away, break­ing the kiss. Her breath came in quick, short spurts, as did his. He gazed at her, those blue eyes glow­ing with need.

My sin­cer­est apolo­gies, Your Grace,” she said stiffly, whirling to return to her horse.

His fin­gers lock­ing around her elbow.

What is your name?” he rasped.

She tried to shake him off but he only tight­ened his grasp.

Your name, Miss Jenk­ins. Your Chris­t­ian name.”

Emery.”

Before Mead­ow could speak, the duke took her hand and slipped it through the crook of his arm. He ush­ered her from the draw­ing room and along the corridor.

Please show me Marshmore’s gar­dens, my lady. I think the fresh air will do both of us some good.”

Her head spin­ning, she brought them to Tilda’s sit­ting room, where they exit­ed from a set of French doors. The gar­dens lay only a few steps away and the duke led her to the entrance and down the path.

They strolled for a few min­utes, no words between them. She didn’t know what kind of con­ver­sa­tion he expect­ed after the dra­mat­ic scene in the draw­ing room. As for her, she was over­whelmed by his sheer size. He was tall and broad and smelled mar­velous. Her body brushed against his slight­ly as they moved, caus­ing her bel­ly to do con­tin­u­ous flipflops, keep­ing her off-balance.

She final­ly stopped their motion. “Why did you wish to speak with me, Your Grace?”

I believe we have a great deal to say to one anoth­er, Meadow.”

The use of her name com­ing from his sen­su­al lips caused an explo­sion of but­ter­flies to flap their wings inside her.

I did not give you leave to call me by my Chris­t­ian name, Your Grace. We are not and nev­er will be that famil­iar with one another.”

I total­ly dis­agree,” he said, his voice a low rum­ble. “I think we will become very famil­iar with one anoth­er, Mead­ow.” His tone had turned flirtatious.

She real­ized he was a rogue. Just like the very ones he had warned her against last night.

If you think I will be lured to your bed like the rakes you cau­tioned me about, you are mis­tak­en, Your Grace. No man will tempt me enough to behave as a wan­ton. I may be a wid­ow but I have my pride and rep­u­ta­tion to con­sid­er. I nei­ther want nor need to have an affair with you.”

He placed his hands upon her shoul­ders, send­ing a rush of heat through her.

Oh, I am not inter­est­ed in an affair, Meadow.”

With that, he low­ered his head. She start­ed to protest. Then his lips touched hers.

He was … kiss­ing her …

She had nev­er been kissed.

*Excerpt com­ing soon!

*Excerpt com­ing soon!

*Excerpt com­ing soon!