Page 7 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)
They were inches apart. Her scent drove him to distraction. Maintaining a sharp edge of anger was hard when his mind was addled with that scent. When his eyes were unable to stop drinking in the glorious, ferocious beauty of her face and body.
“Let me go. You clearly have no desire to marry me. I will not go from my father’s prison to yours,” Celia demanded.
“I cannot,” Alexander whispered. “The scandal would destroy us both.”
“I do not care,” Celia huffed.
But Alexander could see that she did. She tried to hide it, to bury it beneath outrage and anger, but she was failing. The chinks in her armor were there to see. But how to break them apart?
Celia looked away, and Alexander wondered if she were trying to hide from him. He took her chin in the crook of his finger, turning her head to face him. She resisted at first and then jerked her head around, her eyes blazing through unshed tears.
Alexander’s finger lingered, the tip touching her jaw. The feel of her soft, perfect skin was magnetic. He did not want to withdraw his hand, to end the sensation. His eyes roamed over her face, drinking her in.
Celia’s eyes widened for a moment, and then she pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was unexpected and, in contrast to the last time, was initiated by her. Alexander was instantly lost in a world of tantalizing sensation and sensuality.
Her lips were soft but pressed hard against his own. She nipped his lips, and when he opened his mouth, her tongue darted in. His hand fell from the door handle to cup her face, and then, freed from his grip, she opened the door.
Alexander watched in astonishment as she stepped down onto the runner just as the carriage began to speed up, freed of the congestion of London’s busiest thoroughfares as it turned towards Somers Town and Pentonville. She skipped a few steps as she stepped off onto the road, easily balancing.
As she reached the pavement, she looked back with a smile that had shades of triumph in it.
She kissed me to trick me into letting her go. And she had the gall to challenge my ability to master her!
Driven by an impulse to prove her wrong, Alexander propelled himself from the carriage. As his feet hit the ground, he had to dart quickly for the pavement to avoid getting hit by a carriage racing in the opposite direction.
Celia darted away, picking up her skirts. She wove between a handful of pedestrians walking to and from the small group of shops that served the residents of Somers Town until she reached the gate of a church. Then, she stepped through while looking over her shoulder at her pursuer.
Alexander gave chase, snatching his hat from his head and breaking into a run that attracted attention from those around him. He didn’t care.
He followed her through the yard of St James’ Roman Catholic church, the famous Polygon rising beyond the far wall. That building rose from a forest of newer housing, but around the other side of the church were fields and woods, so far beyond the reach of the metropolis.
Celia was making for a gate in the wall on that side, and Alexander put on a spurt of speed to intercept her.
He caught her by the arm as he reached her, stepping in front of her.
She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright.
The church door opened, and a figure clothed in black stepped out, peering in their direction.
Alexander dragged Celia under the cover of a copse of willows around a small pond, brushing aside the drooping branches to step beneath.
“Do not run away from me,” he panted.
“I won’t be a prisoner,” she retorted.
“Then don’t be. Do as you will. But we will be married.”
“Make me then,” Celia hissed.
Alexander’s control snapped. He whirled, snatching her up by the waist and pressing her against the trunk of the willow. He kissed her, and she did not resist. Instead, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling so that his head was forced back and her mouth could fasten upon his throat.
He clutched her body hard against his, trapping her between the rigid demands of his manhood and the ancient hardness of the tree.
“You are the most maddening man,” Celia breathed.
“And you are the most wicked temptress. I know what you are trying to do,” Alexander shot back.
Celia huffed. “And what is that? What exactly?—”
His mouth found hers, muffling her reply and rendering it a moan.
His hands roamed down her back to squeeze her round, soft buttocks.
Her feet were still off the ground, her body suspended by his arms and his loins.
As he allowed his hands to find her breasts, she slid down the tree, still held in his arms until she sat on the ground and he kneeled before her.
Celia pulled back and, for a moment, stared down at him. With the ancient tree behind her, she could have been some pagan earth goddess.
The idea aroused him intensely, and he surged up against her, fighting her with kisses and caresses to be higher, to be dominant. She melted against him, falling into his embrace, cradled against his chest.
“I know you’re in there, you wicked pair! For shame! God will strike you down where you stand!” came a strident voice behind the screen of willow branches.
Celia’s eyes went wide, as did her mouth. Alexander, too, came to his senses abruptly, realizing the priest he had seen coming out of the church had seen them and guessed their intentions. He stood up, holding out his hand for Celia.
“Come on. I have no desire to be lectured on morality and no appetite for further scandal. Truce?”
Celia let him pull her to her feet, nodding vigorously. “I think I went mad,” she whispered.
“That gate over there will take us onto Hampstead High Road, and we will hire a carriage at the Southampton Arms to take us the rest of the way.”
He led her at a trot out of the cover of the willow and towards the gate. As soon as they were seen, the priest, carrying a stout cudgel, began shaking his fist at them.
“Where are we going?” Celia asked.
“I have a property in Finsbury Fields which I have been in the process of selling. You will stay there until we are married. I do not wish to introduce you to my family until then. I wish them to meet you as my bride. Finsbury House is empty, so you will not be disturbed.”