Page 56 of Never Beguile a Duke

“You’ve a great many responsibilities, Your Grace,” she replied, lowering her arm. “I’d loathe to distract you from them.”

“One of those is seeing to my guests’ needs.” He tilted his head. “And you are a guest.”

“What need have I?” she asked.

Blood filled his mouth when he bit his tongue to keep the inappropriate comment from slipping out.

After a long pause, he said, “You have a need for information.”

“Which you’ve refused to reveal to me,” she snapped.

Before she twisted away, he grabbed her elbow. “I cannot rid our kiss from my mind. It plagues me at every moment.”

Her mouth popped open. “It was not my intention to cause you suffering.”

“Do you not suffer as well?” The words hung between them, frozen, like his heart, which stopped mid-beat waiting for her response.

“I do.”

He exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Would you be amenable to a second kiss?”

Her lower lip trapped between her teeth, she glanced to her left and right, verifying their solitude, then nodded.

Silas leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. The moment their lips touched, a delightful shiver rolled through his body, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pinning her between the table and his growing manhood.

A soft sigh escaped as her lips parted, and she curled into his embrace. Her hands glided up his back, coaxing flames into his skin through the greatcoat’s thick material.

His tongue dipped into her mouth, sliding along hers, and she moaned. Deepening the kiss, he drew the delicious sound from her again. His mind filled with erotic images of Miss Fernsby-Webb moving in rhythm beneath him, her eyes half-closed and her body shuddering as she screamed his name.

Feminine voices drifted up the staircase, and Silas jerked back, his eyes rounding. He grabbed Miss Fernsby-Webb’s arm and yanked her across the corridor and into his chamber, slamming the door shut as the Sutton sisters and Miss Wilmington reached the second-floor landing.

Pressing his ear against the door, he waited, confirming that none of the ladies had witnessed his reckless indiscretion, then spun around, finding Miss Fernsby-Webb hovering directly behind him.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me, Your Grace?” she asked, clasping her hands together in front of her waist.

“I was protecting you!” He yanked off his greatcoat and flung the outerwear over the back of a chair. “Did you wish to be discovered in such a position by the Misses Sutton? The whole of Wiltshire would know by the morning.”

Miss Fernsby-Webb’s lips twitched. “Your Grace, I am no stranger to scandal, having been the subject of it for quite some time.”

“I’ve heard nothing attached to your name,” he replied as she rotated in a small circle, her gaze sliding over the elegant furniture adorning his bedchamber and stopping on the blazing fireplace.

“That is a lie, Your Grace.” She glanced over, her mouth crooking into a half-smile. “I appreciate your attempt at civility. However, I caution you to heed my warning. People whisper unkind things about me.”

“They talk about me, too,” he said, taking a step forward.

“Not in the same respect.” Moving out of reach, she headed toward the fireplace. “You are a duke and therefore given more flexibility in your behavior.”

“That is where you’re incorrect, Miss Fernsby-Webb.” He gestured toward a guitar, hidden in the corner of the room. “Do you know why I’m such a skilled musician?”

Her eyes slid to the guitar. “You enjoy playing?”

“Well, yes. However, that isn’t the true cause.” He strode across the floor and knelt, running his thumb across the strings. “What negative comment can be made about a man with an instrument?”

She glided closer. “You used music to avoid scandal?”

He nodded and sank onto the floor, setting the guitar on his lap. “And it worked… up ‘til now.”

“Ah. You’re thinking of Miss Juliette.” Miss Fernsby-Webb inspected the floor, then shrugged, pulled up her skirt an inch, and sat beside him.