Unmasking the Duke, page 11
Beautiful, she thought in wonder as she finally met his deep, unblinking eyes.
They were intent on her face, the lids heavy like hoods. His gaze fell from hers to her lips, and the butterflies in her stomach plunged and rioted.
This is desire. Lust. Need…
His gaze dropped further, over her throat, where a pulse beat madly, and downward over her robe. God knew what he saw, for her robe was agape, and she could barely breathe, but his eyes had clouded as they once more found hers. Tiny glints of amber gleamed there, like flames, perhaps reflecting the candle or her own desperate heat.
He released one of her arms and stepped even closer, resting his hand on the wall just to the left of her head, forcing her to hold the candle out to the right. His other hand slid up her arm, over her shoulder to her neck, and she had to smother a gasp at his touch on her skin. His fingers moved to her nape, and fresh fire sparked through her veins, for the caress was exquisite. His head bent, and he paused with his lips so close to hers she could taste his breath—coffee, a hint of brandy, him…
I want…
Oh God, had she said that aloud? A smile touched his lips just before they covered hers and sealed.
This was different from the kiss at Maida. This was suffused from the beginning with utter sensuality, as though he recognized and fed her wild, unfamiliar lust. His tongue caressed her lips, her teeth, until she found it with her own. The length of his body from thigh to chest pushed her into the wall, which was as well, for her knees threatened to give, and without the wonderful pressure, she might well have fallen. As it was, she gloried in his hard strength, in particular the rigid column pressing into her abdomen. If she hadn’t been so giddy with delight and need, she might have been shocked. As it was, she accepted every delicious moment and reached for more.
She heard the tiny, inarticulate sounds issuing from her throat and the soft, answering groan from his as the kiss deepened, and his body moved against hers in a caress that made her gasp.
In the end, it was the precariously wobbling candle that seemed to bring him back to himself. The fingers working their incredible magic on her nape slipped away, back down her arm to steady her hand. And slowly, very slowly, he detached his mouth from hers and raised his head a bare inch to look down into her face.
His breath was ragged, like hers, his desire surely as great as hers. But his self-control, clearly, was better, for he dropped his hand from the wall, cupped her cheek for an instant, long enough only for her to sink against his palm, and then he stepped away, releasing her candle-hand last, and ran downstairs into the darkness.
Kitty stared after him in bewilderment until she could no longer even make out his darker shape.
Throughout the whole incident, neither of them had said a word.
On trembling legs, she tottered on toward her bedchamber.
Somewhere on the journey, she began to smile. Because she loved him, and he had kissed her. Kissed her so…thoroughly, so…deliciously.
She had no idea what it meant, but it gave her bright, burning, thrilling hope. For something.
*
Johnny slept late the following morning, not, as had once been a frequent occurrence, because of over-indulgence the night before, but because he had been awake most of the night wrestling with the twin demons of temptation and guilt. And desire so intense it made him feel like an adolescent boy. Which, God help him, he was not.
He had known, sitting beside her at the piano, watching her face light with pleasure in the simple game, that desire still flared between them. He had known he should not touch her and had quickly, deliberately, made things casual between them once more. And he had known that, for any number of reasons, he had to keep their relationship carefully between those boundaries.
But that was before he had gone to bed with visions of her smile in his head and torturing speculations as to what lay beneath her becoming new gowns. He recalled only too easily the feel of her in his arms at Maida, dancing, kissing him. He should never have kissed her. He had always liked naughty women, not sweet ones, so what the devil he had been thinking, he had no idea.
In his defense, of course, he hadn’t been certain which she was until he began kissing her, and then the answer had knocked him sideways.
Both. A sweet and probably wonderful young woman, capable of very wicked passion. Even if she hadn’t been Cousin Margaret’s daughter—probably—that had been a warning to him.
He had heeded it, for the most part, allowing in only the affection and growing pleasure in her company as she had relaxed and come out of her shell. The inappropriate lust he had kept well-buried, until, by the piano, she had looked at him like that. And hadn’t even known what was in her eyes.
That look had tormented him as he went to bed and he tossed and turned, longing to feel her beneath him, kissing him, moving with him… Until he realized bed was the wrong place for him when his entire being was full of her. And so, he had decided to go to the morning room, which was nice and cold, and either pace or read until he felt like an adult again.
It had been a good enough plan, if only it hadn’t been thwarted by Kitty herself.
He groaned, now, dunking his head in the washing bowl. Why had he touched her? Why had he not stayed hidden or merely walked past with some jest about sleeping at night?
Because there was something between them. Something rare and warm.
Slowly, he dragged his face out of the bowl and reached for the towel.
Something of value. Something priceless.
This isn’t impossible at all.
While he let his valet shave him and help him dress, his mind was busy on this stunning fact. And by the time he rose to go to breakfast, he was smiling and ready.
The others were all in the breakfast parlor, planning an outing to the park with all four children.
“Coming, Johnny?” Harry asked with more than a hint of mockery.
It was a pleasure to drawl, “Why not?” And see the startlement in Harry’s eyes.
He was aware of Kitty’s head turning toward him, daring to look at him for the first time since he had entered the room. So, he met her gaze and smiled. “It is a beautiful morning, is it not?”
“Very,” she managed, blushing adorably while a shy, relieved smile dawned on her passionate lips, and he knew that, even if he didn’t win, the chase would be worth the heartache.
Accordingly, accompanied as usual by two stout footmen, they walked to Hyde Park. It was hardly the occasion for dalliance—there were too many children to keep track of and play with—but her company was enough. In teams, they played hide-and-seek and tag, straying off the main paths.
They had all met up again, the footmen still following gamely, when Johnny noticed the struggle just ahead. Two men were wrestling with a solitary woman, trying to drag her off the path and into the trees.
The female appeared to be giving a good account of herself, making excellent use of her knee and elbow, but there was clearly no way she could win this fight. Johnny loped immediately to the rescue, calling back over his shoulder, “Harry, stay with them!”
It was only a few yards to reach the struggle.
“Back off!” one man warned, flashing a knife at him.
More annoyed than frightened, Johnny kicked his hand, sending the knife flying into the undergrowth. In the same movement, he spun and punched the astonished villain with all the force he’d gathered.
“You back off,” he suggested to the man on his backside.
Harry and the others, including the footmen, were almost upon them now, too. The man holding on—just—to the furious woman clearly decided discretion was the better part of valor.
“Leg it,” he growled at his confederate and shot off into the bushes, closely followed in a stumbling run by the man Johnny had punched.
“Well,” the woman drawled, half-laughing despite her ordeal. “I always said you were my hero. How are you, Johnny?”
Johnny stared at her in total astonishment. “Aline?”
Chapter Twelve
Kitty glanced from the woman who had been attacked to Johnny and felt her chest constrict. Although proud of his quick intervention on the lady’s behalf and relieved he had emerged unscathed, something very like dread twisted through her feelings.
She had never seen that precise expression on his face before, and she didn’t like it. Nor did she like the smile on the woman’s lips, a flare of excitement, a pleasure that mirrored his own.
He is her lover.
Harry strolled forward, a baby in one arm, a small boy clinging to his other hand. “I am devastated. I thought I was your hero.”
“Ah, but your heroics belong to your country and your lady wife, Captain Harry. How do you do, Lady Meg?” Her amused glance took in all the children. “Exhausted, I imagine.”
Meg took both her hands, which seemed to take the strange lady by surprise. “How are you, more to the point? Are you hurt?”
“Only my pride. I dropped my umbrella and couldn’t wield it to proper effect. I am very grateful you happened along.” She spoke with a charming hint of a foreign accent, just enough to be intriguing.
“In the midst of another adventure, Aline?” the duke asked, his eyes gleaming with laughter and clear admiration. And the blossoming hope in Kitty’s heart began to shrivel.
“Sadly, yes, although I had hoped it was over.” For the first time, she appeared to notice Kitty.
So did the duke. “I’m sorry,” he said easily. “Where are my manners? Princess, allow me to present my cousin, Miss Rennie. Kitty, this is… Actually, I have no idea of your title.”
“Princess was a good start,” drawled the lady. “I gather you have been talking to the Sayles whom I met in Paris last year. Princess Hagerin, if we are being formal.” The lady extended one languid hand. “Always delighted to meet another member of the Winter clan.”
Kitty, who would have preferred to curtsey from a distance—a great distance—took the proffered hand and curtseyed. What did she call a princess? My lady? Your Highness? It didn’t matter. It seemed the princess did not expect her to speak. She was awarded a swift, piercing appraisal half-hidden behind a smile, and then her fingers were released.
“And Prince Hagerin?” Meg asked.
“Alas, I am a widow once more.”
“Really, this time?” Johnny asked inexplicably.
“Yes.” She hesitated. “Which is, I fear, the reason behind the contretemps you just ended.”
“Where are you staying?” Johnny asked abruptly.
“It doesn’t matter. I will have to move, now, for they must have followed me from there.”
“The trouble came to you, this time,” the duke guessed, which did not seem to please the princess. She merely shrugged. Meg gazed steadily at her brother. An odd smile flickered over his face and vanished. “You had better come with us, Princess. Providing it will not bring your enemies down upon my family.”
The princess appeared to consider. “It’s me they wish to kill, and they wish to do it without being caught, so I believe you, your family, and your house would be safe.”
“Will your son accompany you?” Meg asked.
“My son is safe in France.”
“Then why aren’t you?” Harry asked bluntly.
“Because I had a commission here. And Basil is no threat to them. Shall we go? I can hear people coming this way, and I really don’t wish to discuss such matters out here.”
The duke offered the princess his arm, which, stupidly, felt like another nail hammered into Kitty’s heart. Ignoring it, she played with the boys as they walked back through the park. Only when the little boys had to be gathered to a more sedate walk in the street, did Kitty find herself beside Meg, carrying one of the babies.
“The princess is an old friend?” she asked carefully.
“Yes.” Meg hesitated, then added, “She once helped me greatly, and she is, I think, the bravest woman I have ever met. But she is not at all what she seems.”
Was that a warning? “And she has a son?”
“Yes, a sweet, lively little boy. Although I don’t suppose he is so little now! It is four years since I have seen them.”
“And His Grace also?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” Meg said evasively.
In front of them, the duke bent his head toward the princess, smiling at something she said. Something in the familiarity of the gesture, in the quality of that smile, confirmed what she didn’t want to believe. That whatever they were to each other now, he had once been her lover.
Her fierce pang of jealousy took her by surprise. She had known he was a rake, that sooner or later she would come across one of his women. She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so badly, when the sad truth was, there had never been any possibility that she would mean anything to the duke, not in the way the princess did. Even had Kitty been more beautiful, more charming, and more brave than Princess Hagerin, she could be neither mistress nor wife to the Duke of Dearham. The best she would ever be was a poor relation.
So why did he kiss me?
Because he suspects I am not his cousin after all? Or a mere slip after a glass of brandy too many. I was just…there.
The most wonderful moments of her life were reduced to ashes.
*
Over luncheon, once the servants were dismissed, the princess told her story.
“So, tell us how you became a princess,” Harry invited.
She sighed and shrugged. “I was tired. I needed a home for Basil and me, with a little wealth, respect, and security. The prince offered me that, and I took it.”
“Were you happy?” Meg asked.
The princess’s eyes turned mocking. “In connubial bliss like you, Lady Meg?”
“You were,” Johnny said, his gaze on her face, though it told Kitty nothing. “What happened to him?”
“A coup d’etat,” she replied carelessly. “I’m fairly sure he was poisoned. And then, behold, his brother, the general, stepped into the breach, and all liberal reform came to an end. I was pronounced an evil influence on the late prince and asked politely to leave the country.”
“Which you clearly did,” Johnny said, “so why are they attacking you here?”
The princess laid down her fork, and Kitty had the impression she didn’t want to answer. Then, a too-bright smile lit her face, and she reached for her wine glass. “Because I played a bad card. I was reluctant to leave a comfortable home where Basil was happy, and where I had security, wealth, and friends. And so, I told the general I could not travel yet because I was with child.”
“Are you?” Johnny asked steadily, and Kitty couldn’t help wondering how much it mattered to him.
“No, as it happens,” the princess replied.
“Then it was surely a very temporary solution,” Johnny pointed out.
She inclined her head with a return to mockery. “I have already agreed the card was poor. To be honest, I thought it would give me a few months’ grace while everything settled down and returned to normal. I would pretend to lose the baby and be quietly forgotten about, living peacefully in my country house with Basil. I…misjudged. When my maid died from eating a meal I did not want, I took Basil and fled.” She raised her glass to the company. “Vive la révolution.”
“And they followed you here?” Harry scowled. “Are you not entitled to some kind of protection from the British government?”
“That is part of my self-appointed commission. Along with offering my services once more. I lost everything when the prince died.”
“And the men this morning?” Kitty asked. “They were from your husband’s country?” Leg it! had not sounded particularly foreign.
The beautiful, unreadable eyes met hers for an instant. “They were certainly paid by my husband’s country.”
“Then we had better discover the go-between who arranged it,” Johnny said briskly. “As it happens, we know a man who is excellent at finding people.”
“Poor Dunne,” Harry murmured. “Does he ever get the chance to sleep, I wonder?”
*
During the afternoon, Kitty kept largely to herself and composed a letter to Uncle Bill and the boys. Since she then went to spend time in the nursery with Meg’s children, she elected to have tea there rather than with the adults, a decision cheered flatteringly by the twins. Afterward, Nurse, Meg, and the housekeeper converged upon her to examine her injuries and advised her to leave off the rest of the bandages.
“I don’t know which is worse,” Kitty said lightly, examining the ugly new and healing skin of her palms and fingers.
“I’ll give you some gloves when we go out,” Meg said. “I don’t think you need to worry here.”
“No,” Kitty agreed.
But there was no point in sulking because her ridiculous fantasies had been shown up for what they were by the return of the princess to Johnny’s life. Instead, she resolved to make the most of reality, enjoy his friendship while she could, and hide her inconvenient feelings until they died from lack of nourishment.
Accordingly, she went early to the library in the hope of spending a few minutes alone with the duke before dinner. But although the fire blazed merrily, the room was empty, and she was reduced to reading the novel she had snatched up last night.
Curled up on one of the large armchairs, she found the novel to be delightful—a light-hearted and witty comedy of society manners, which she suspected was even funnier when one was actually part of the haut ton. She was laughing aloud when the library door opened, and she glanced round, her heart beating with expectation.
But it was the princess who entered, now wearing a charming evening gown of exquisite blue silk. Her baggage must have been brought over from wherever she had been staying before. She smiled. “Ah, good evening, Miss… Oh dear, do forgive me, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“I’m not surprised,” Kitty said generously. “You had just been attacked. It’s Miss Rennie, but everyone calls me Kitty.”
“How sweet,” the princess remarked, smiling. She sat on a nearby chair. “What are you reading?”
