Page 9 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

‘What did you think you were doing?’ she said.

‘Saying hello.’ He laughed, as though kissing her on a public highway was a joke.

There was warmth in his eyes though, which had not been there on the day of the funeral, a glimpse of the old John, and her heart ached to see it, no matter that she was angry.

‘Please let me have my bonnet, John?’

He lifted his arm higher so she would never be able to reach it and merely smiled.

‘John! Do not be a brute!’ She did not understand what was going on. She would have slapped him again but his free hand caught her wrist. ‘Has the warm weather made you mad?’

‘Not the weather, Katherine.’ He grinned. But then his smile slipped away, and an austere look came over him and the dark pupils glowed at the heart of his pale eyes.

Her heartbeat rang like a hammer on an anvil. Did he think it was acceptable to just kiss a woman like that? Here! Anyone might have seen.

Her hand shook as she reached out for her bonnet again. The thought of someone seeing made her feel sick.

When he lifted it away once more, she said, ‘Let me have it, John,’ feeling a little afraid of him.

‘So you can cover up that pretty face. These things are a crime. Someone ought to make a law against poke bonnets. Perhaps I shall propose the law in the House of Lords – every woman’s bonnet must let a man see her face.’

He was being ridiculous. ‘John!’ she urged.

‘Katherine,’ he mocked.

She could not believe he was doing this. Nor that he had kissed her so crudely.

She had done nothing but worship him for nearly a decade and he was busy ridiculing her. ‘Give me back my bonnet, John, and you are not to come near me again. I am not something for you to play with.’ Fool. You fool, Katherine.

His manner changed instantly, his arm fell and he held her bonnet towards her.

‘It was not an insult, Katherine.’

She held the offered bonnet, but he did not release it.

‘Then, I suppose you would kiss any woman you saw walking alone on a road.’ Of course he would not. Only the ones who were foolish enough to love him, and only the ones who had no family to protect them.

His fingers tightened on her bonnet again, crushing it, before she could free it from his hand.

‘Not any woman, Katherine, just the ones who look at me with azure-blue eyes that say they long to be kissed – just you, Kate.’

‘Give me my bonnet,’ she stated gruffly.

‘No, not until you admit you wanted a kiss.’

‘No!’ Warmth rose in her skin, she would be turning pink, but she refused to play tug of war for her bonnet. She let it go. ‘You should apologise and beg my forgiveness.’

‘I will not beg your forgiveness,’ he answered in a hard pitch. ‘You wanted me to kiss you.’

‘You have grown arrogant, John Harding.’

‘Perhaps so,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But you wished for it. You did. I know.’

‘You cannot know.’ There was anguish in her voice, and in answer his eyes softened and he held forth her bonnet once more.

‘Katherine, you held me and kissed me back, you cannot deny it.’

The words were gently spoken but they cut into her heart. She had craved his kiss. But not for it to be forced upon her on the roadside. Tears rushed into her eyes.

‘Your eyes expressed desire…’ His pitch softened further.

She lifted her hand to slap him again, but he caught it and raised his eyebrows.

She felt ashamed because it was true, she had turned, faced him and her heart had leapt into her throat at the sight of him. He was half undressed, unshaven and he wore no hat and he was simply, essentially, masculine – tall, strong, agile and assertive.

Was this what her natural mother had felt for her father, this desperation?

Katherine had wanted to be kissed, and if that desire was to be fulfilled how else might it be done if not like this? He would hardly choose to marry her. If she wanted kisses from him they would have to be stolen.

She did not try to pull either her arm free or her bonnet from his hand, she felt calm suddenly. ‘Give me back my bonnet, Your Grace. Please? ’

‘Say that you wanted me to kiss you.’ That cold, hard look was back in his eyes.

‘No.’

‘Say it.’

His grip firmed on her arm, though it was not painful. ‘Say it!’ His voice rang with the same gentle strength.

‘No, John.’

His hand suddenly released her arm and then it was bracing her neck, drawing her close, and he pressed his lips against hers. Her heart raced, and she felt dizzy and hot. Her fingers clawed into the muscles of his arms, through the thin cotton of his shirt, to steady herself.

The kiss was brief, and when he pulled away his pale eyes shone like glass with triumph. ‘You wished for it,’ he whispered over her lips, his eyes boring deep into her soul. ‘Say it.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted, feeling warmth flush her body. She felt the provincial, gauche idiot she was, compared to this new world-wise John.

‘Here,’ he said, releasing her and offering her the bonnet. ‘I will give you a lift home.’

She felt displaced, on the same road she walked every day, but not, as she shook her bonnet to try and get it to recover its shape.

Her hands trembled as she tied the ribbons and she was not sure if she took a step whether her legs would hold her up.

‘Come.’ He lifted his hand, offering to help her climb up to the high seat of his expensive curricle.

She accepted it, though she had to release his hand once her foot touched the first step and hold the bar to climb because the steps were steep. He climbed up and sat beside her.

Her mouth dried, as self-hatred rose.

He released the break and flicked the reins, setting his beautiful, identical pair of horses into a trot.

His head turned to her. ‘I am sorry, Kate, I should not have kissed you, no matter that you wished for it.’

She stared ahead. Had he not even really wished to kiss her, but only done it because he realised he could? She looked at him.

A dark humour suddenly shone in his eyes once more. ‘But then again maybe I am not really sorry.’ He looked at the road.

‘You have changed,’ she answered, staring at him, not understanding him at all, and yet loving him.

His eyes turned back to her, a look of granite in them. ‘Life has changed me, Katherine. But you are no different. Perhaps you can make me remember who I was.’

What should she say to that? What should she say to this stranger? Nothing. Her hand reached out and clung to the side of his curricle as he urged the horses into a canter.