Page 46 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
“Explain,” she commanded.
He sighed. “It appears as though they might make adequate duchesses.”
“All right.” She paused. “But what doyouthink of them?”
His frown deepened. “I just told you what I thought.”
“I know that, Your Grace. I just…” She hesitated, deciding to take a different tack. “Did you like one of them over the other?”
He gestured to a stone bench tucked in between two hedges, and she nodded. When they sat, close beside each other because the bench was small but taking pains not to touch, he shrugged. “I suppose if someone held a knife to my throat and forced me to choose, I’d select Miss Cherrington.”
Well, that was a relief. Or…it should be. She could not understand the tangle of reactions inside her when her true reaction to his choice should be perfectly obvious. She wanted him to choose Harriet—sheneededhim to choose her. So far, he had. Excellent.
“That’s wonderful,” she said, modulating her tone very carefully so he wouldn’t realize Harriet was her preference, as well.
It struck her that she was being dishonest with him, but she brushed that away. The fact was, Harriet would make him a wonderful bride. She really would. All Jo had to do was ensure that he fell in love with her.
Even if a part of her didn’t want him to.
But, if he loved Harriet, then Jo would have nothing to be ashamed of. She would have made yet another brilliant match, and that was something she should be proud of, not guilty about. There would just be the wonderful additional perk of another happily ever after when Lilly was able to marry Charles Cherrington as well.
“Miss Cherrington meets all your criteria. She is lovely.” She turned her head to gauge his reaction, but he seemed not to have heard her. He was staring at her. Staring, specifically, at her mouth.
The mouth that instantly watered as her own gaze settled on his lips. He had quite lovely lips—especially when they were slightly parted, as they were right now.
What she wouldn’t give to have them on her again. And this time, not only on her mouth but on other parts of her body—
She sucked in a sharp breath, jerking her gaze away. A couple walked by on the adjacent path, arm in arm, laughing and paying no attention to them whatsoever.
“Jo,” he said softly. The way he said her name made shivers skitter up her spine. Then he touched her, his finger crooked beneath her chin, pulling her gaze back to him. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” he murmured, his dark gaze roaming over her face.
She swallowed. “I…” She closed her eyes.Harriet. Harriet, Lilly, Charles. HARRIET!
The back of his gloved hand stroked her cheek, and she shuddered as he gently pushed a wisp of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of the shell.
“Come here.” He grasped her hand and pulled her up off the bench, and as if drugged, she let him lead her beyond the bench, behind the hedge there and beneath the boughs of a crabapple tree, its branches heavy with pink blooms.
He stopped beside the trunk, then, without taking his eyes from her, he bent lower, lower still until all her senses filled with him.
“May I kiss you, Jo?”
She should hesitate—no, sheshouldn’thesitate. She should say no.
But why? She couldn’t think of a single reason to say no when her whole body was screaming yes.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His lips were soft, and she sank into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his hard, masculine body, then pushing upward until her fingers dug into the dark curls at the base of his scalp. Not weighed down and made greasy by the pomade most of the men wore, but soft and thick and natural.
His hands grazed over the dip in her waist, then back up, one arm wrapping around her, pulling her flush against him and the other moving to the front of her body, cupping her breast through all the layers of her dress and petticoat and stays and shift. The feel of him grazing her nipple, even through all that fabric, made her gasp as heat rushed through her, then pooled in her center.
His sex pressed against her stomach, hard, rigid, and…good Lord…huge. Perhaps it should scare her, but it only made her ache more for him, knowing that his body ached for her.
His thumb brushed roughly over the tip of her breast, and his lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, lower, until he was kissing her neck, the bristles of his evening beard scraping her sensitive skin and making her limbs shudder and quake.
She pushed herself more tightly against him, trapping his hand between their bodies, running her fingers through his hair and over the tight cords of his neck, then down, over the muscles of his shoulders, his arms, his back that tapered to a narrow waist.
She didn’t know how long they kissed—minutes or hours. She was carried away on a tide of pleasure, the only annoyance all the clothes and her gloves preventing her fromreallytouching him in all the places she wanted to explore—everywhere. It was a mixture of desire and curiosity and the knowledge that she was so close to learning something she’d never thought she’d be privy to—the true form of a naked man.
