Page 13 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

She looked beautiful. Her cheeks were pink and her bright blue eyes wide.

Her blonde hair was loosely held in a topknot with wisps of it falling to her shoulders and about her face; a mix of bright yellow sunshine shades, and duller damp wheat hues.

She wore a faded blue short-sleeved summer dress, which shaped her figure.

His eyes were drawn to her arms. It was the first time he had seen her without a pelisse or a spencer, and her bare arms were exquisite pale milk-white freckled skin.

His English rose. His , not the reverend’s.

He crossed the room, took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Thank God she was not wearing those tired kid leather gloves. Her skin was beautifully cool and soft and he let his thumb run over her palm as he breathed in the scent of her soap.

Clearly uncomfortable and colouring up again, she pulled her hand free.

‘I brought your bonnet back,’ he whispered, without preamble. ‘I am afraid I was offended by its return.’

Fire flashed in her eyes instantly, as it had done on the road the other day. There was a hidden zeal tucked away within Katherine. She wanted more from life, he could tell. He longed to give it to her. He knew she could give him what he wished – release, freedom, moments of escape.

‘You cannot buy me gifts, John,’ she said harshly. ‘What if my mother saw it?’

‘You are Phillip’s sister, why should I not buy you something you wish for?

No one need think it odd.’ He smiled. He wanted to laugh.

Not because she was funny, but because the passion in her outburst struck him so intensely.

She was not the shy quiet person she portrayed herself to be, not in the least.

‘Did you wish me to order tea, Miss Katherine?’ Castle asked from the open door.

Katherine’s skin turned bright pink. John grasped the opportunity to stay longer. ‘That would be welcome, Castle, thank you.’

Katherine glared at John when the butler turned away.

‘You should not be here,’ she whispered once the man had gone.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. ‘If you are afraid of this being misconstrued, say I brought the gift from Phillip.’

‘And when Mama writes to him and asks why he bought me it, and Jenny nothing, what then? Besides, Phillip does not have money to waste on bonnets.’

Still disinclined to accept her refusal, John picked the box up and held it out.

It was suddenly extremely important to him that she accept it.

If she accepted it, she accepted him. She could save him from the darkness.

‘I shall not take it back, say what you wish. Hide it away if you will. But I imagine you will look well in it, and if you wear it, I will know you have kept something from me, and you will know it too, but no one else need know a thing.’

Her gaze struck his and then fell to the box. She appeared tempted.

‘Take it,’ he said more gently.

‘But what does it mean, John?’ she whispered, her gaze lifting to his again. ‘What do you want from me?’

He could see there was no anger left in her now, only questions.

‘I do not know.’ It was the truth. She deserved honesty from him if nothing else.

She had been honest with him on the road and admitted she had wished to be kissed.

‘I am attracted to you, as you are to me, I can say no more than that. I wish to give you this, Katherine. I wish you to take it. That is all for now.’

‘John?’

‘You give me ease, Katherine. Let me give you this. Let me be able to think of you wearing it and know you think of me. Perhaps one day I might see you in it.’

Her hands finally reached to accept it and as her bare fingers touched his, they melted the feeling of cold ice in his stomach to water. The reaction disturbed him, he felt suddenly vulnerable. He walked to the French door.

‘What is going on, John?’ she whispered behind him.

He looked back. ‘Nothing.’

‘I do not understand you.’

Nor do I understand myself. Perhaps that was half his problem? Who was he, his mother’s son or his grandfather’s dark, cold, unfeeling monster? Far more the latter lately. But he did not want to be a monster and Katherine could make him feel warmth.

He returned to her, his gaze holding hers as physical and emotional desire burned inside him like an inferno. ‘You are beautiful, Katherine.’

‘You are beautiful. I am not,’ she answered.

‘Do you not see yourself? I like your gold hair, and the blue of your eyes. I like your spirit too.’ And I want you.

He took the box from her hands, put it on the chair, then his fingertips lifted her chin.

She did not turn her head away, her gaze held his, bright with the knowledge that he intended kissing her.

He kissed her gently, unable to comprehend the level of feeling in his chest. How could she have come to mean so much to him in such a short time?

His kiss travelled to brush her cheek, her nose, her temple, as her face tilted towards him like a flower to the sun. ‘I like your skin too,’ he whispered near her ear.

She shivered and her fingers clasped his coat at his waist.

He liked having this effect on her. She was nothing like any other woman he had bedded, and she was everything he craved.

Castle’s footsteps on the hall floorboards announced his approach.

They pulled apart sharply and John turned and walked back to the window, looking out once more as his heart pounded and his groin ached with the need for fulfilment.

He clasped his hands behind his back only to stop them shaking.

He wanted to touch her.

Katherine thanked the butler and he heard her take the tea tray and set it down.

It was not tea he was thirsty for.

When she brought him a full cup, he turned and met her gaze again, aware of the door which still stood open.

She could not shut it. It would be the height of impropriety to do so, but at this moment, it was only that open door which saved her chastity.

He wished to do wicked things with her, very wicked things, and he did not know if it was his grandfather’s monster roaring within or just his mother’s child who desperately longed to be loved.

‘Katherine…’ John’s eyes shone, as he looked at her.

She had thought him vulnerable at the funeral months ago, with no evidence to pin the thought against. But today she saw it.

There had been a desperate desire for her acceptance in his eyes when he had held the box out, and there was insecurity in them now. She could see nothing of the arrogant man.

‘John,’ she said in a low voice, ‘I do not understand what is happening? I can be no one to you.’

He took the full cup of tea she held out. ‘You are wrong. You can be everything to me, Katherine.’

She did not know what to say, so she turned to pour her tea.

‘I have never felt this way for anyone before,’ he said behind her. ‘I have no idea what it is, or how to progress. All I know is I wish to be in your company constantly…’

She was about to turn back when she heard the front door open. Her cup wobbled in its saucer.

‘Sir, the Duke of Pembroke is here,’ Castle said.

It must be her father.

She put her cup down and stood in front of the hatbox, hoping the skirt of her dress would hide it.

‘The Duke of Pembroke?’ Her father’s voice rang along the hall. Then his brisk footsteps could be heard.

She did not look at John.

‘Your Grace.’ Her father appeared at the open parlour door.

‘Papa.’ She knew she must look guilty as she remained between him and the box.

There was a question in his eyes.

John put down his cup and crossed the room, offering his hand. ‘Good day, sir.’

Her father accepted his hand and shook it briefly.

‘I called to accept Mrs Spencer’s invitation to your gathering for Jenny, sir,’ John lied.

He looked at Katherine. ‘I am sure your mother will be pleased, Kate.’ He did not sound pleased. He seemed to have sensed there was something odd going on, but then she was acting as though she had something to hide.

Katherine bit her lip. Did she? There was the bonnet, but… what else… ‘John also brought word from Phillip, Father.’ She lied too.

John nodded. ‘Your son does well in town, sir.’

‘He does…’ Her father’s eyebrows lifted. ‘I was sorry to hear of your grandfather’s passing.’

During their stilted conversation, Katherine’s watched John change back into a duke, distant, untouchable. Unreachable.

John looked at her, his eyes cold and direct. ‘As we still have the sunshine, even though it is a little blustery, I wondered if you would care to walk in the garden with me?’

She looked at her father. There was still an unspoken question in his eyes, which said he was unsure what to do. ‘Shall I leave you two young people to stroll then, Kate, and retire to my study?’

She nodded.

‘Your Grace.’ He bowed to John.

‘Sir.’ John nodded.

Once her father had gone, Katherine whispered, ‘You are shameless, the way you manipulate people.’

His laughter followed her across the room as she walked to the bell to ring for Hetty to collect the hatbox.

‘I cannot believe you have persuaded me to accept your gift, against my better judgement, and I still do not know what you want in return.’

‘A moment of freedom, Katherine, or however many moments you will give me.’

‘Miss Kate?’

Katherine faced Hetty, certain she was entirely pink. ‘Would you take the box up to my room, please, and bring down my spencer, bonnet and gloves.’

‘No,’ John interrupted. ‘Hetty, is it? Your mistress needs none of that, it is cooler today, she need not fear the sun.’

‘I have a fair complexion.’ His boorishness annoyed her.

‘Then a parasol will suffice,’ he said, daring her to challenge him.

She did not, and once the maid had gone, he whispered, ‘I want to touch your skin.’

Was this the price of her bonnet? But she would happily allow him touch. She had always known she was base and sinful and weak, and if any man were to touch her, then let it be John.

Hetty was back in a moment with the promised parasol. Katherine accepted it and raised the canopy as they stepped outside.

John smiled and raised his forearm so she could lay her fingers on it. She felt firm muscle beneath the cloth of his morning coat. There was strength, security and support.

There was a little wilderness of wildflowers to the right of the garden. He led her there.

‘You say you wish for freedom,’ she said quietly, ‘but I still do not understand what you mean, John.’

‘Just your company, Katherine, and perhaps your kisses.’ His other hand covered hers, as it lay on his arm. ‘We will be discreet.’

Discreet? Was she agreeing to an assignation then? ‘You make it sound as though you wish for an affair.’

He stopped walking, his eyes burning with vulnerability and need. ‘An affair of sorts, an intrigue. But I shall not take your innocence. I will not hurt you.’

His eyes and his voice said, please do not deny me.

A rush of yearning swamped her heart.

He began walking again, looking ahead.

Oh, John. She remembered that day long ago when she had watched him in the lake and felt desperate to touch him.

If she answered his need, she could touch him and kiss him, and the pain buried in her soul for years would have ease.

How could she say no? She had always known he could never offer her marriage, but he could offer her this and she could take it.

It was what she’d longed for. Why say no?

As they neared an ancient oak John’s arm slipped from beneath her hand, then his hand surrounded her upper arm. He drew her behind the broad trunk, then pressed her back against it.

Her parasol fell and tumbled across the lawn in the wind as his lips covered hers, gently at first but then the kiss became more insistent.

His body was barely an inch from hers.

One of his hands braced her cheek.

She kissed him back, her tongue dancing with his, learning from his.

His other hand pressed against her lower back. While hers gripped his morning coat, clinging to him.

The storm of emotion she could feel in him was bitter need.

His mouth left hers and he began nipping beneath her chin in soft little bites. ‘I want you, Katherine.’ His breath was hot. ‘I can show and teach you things you will enjoy, but I swear I shall not take your virginity.’

I want you too.

His hand cupped her breast, through her bodice, kneading it gently. It ached for him.

‘Say yes, Katherine,’ he whispered urgently.

His lips nipped at her neck and his hand rubbed her breast while his hips pressed against hers.

She wanted him, there, between her legs. She wanted to do the indecent things her mother had done to beget her. He was the only thing she had ever really wanted.

Her breath was shallow and his hard and rasping.

His hand left her breast and moved to the place where she wanted him to be.

John!

He pressed her through the layers of her gown and petticoats, and her arms rose to his neck as he kissed her lips again, more passionately.

‘Katherine,’ he said into her mouth, sounding as breathless and desperate as her as his fingers rubbed her intimately between her legs through the layers of clothing.

She had spent years craving this. It was just the two of them in the world. It was wrong, she knew it was, but it felt so right and she did not care. She was like her mother. She had always been told it. This had been inevitable since her birth. The sins of the parent visited on the child.

Her body pressed against his, arching with its need.

It was so perfect what he did, how could it be wrong?

The feelings inside her whirled in a spiral of heated delight, rising up and overwhelming her, and then they seemed to break on a high tide that swept through her body, leaving her panting and weak.

His fingers braced her cheek again as he kissed her more urgently for a moment.

She could no longer kiss him back.

When he broke the kiss, she opened her eyes. He was looking at her face. He sighed, appearing to look right into her soul, the pale blue in his eyes glittering like melting ice.

Her fingers combed through his dark hair.

‘That is what I can give you, Katherine,’ he said quietly, as though that was everything. It was his love she wished for. ‘Will you meet me in my grandfather’s tower tomorrow at two o’clock?’

‘Yes.’ Her answer was caught on the breeze and swept away.