Read Online Seducing the Duchess by Ashley March - Free Book Online Page B

believing his own pleasure resulted in the knowledge that he was the first and only man ever to bed her, that the thrill of possession when he claimed her would soon fade.
    And so he had returned to his mistress, never considering how great a lie it had been.
    Until now.
    For she was no longer innocent, and yet his blood still turned to fire in his veins when their lips met. He knew she’d lain with other men, and yet his desire for her could not have burned brighter.
    At that moment, he realized it hadn’t mattered that she’d been a virgin, or that he’d used her for his revenge. He hadn’t made love to her three times that night for any other reason than because it was her.
    It had always been Charlotte, and her alone.
    Her touch, her smile, her scent.
    Her beauty, her grace, her—
    “Isn’t there a rule about fornicating in broad daylight? Surely you could have chosen some other location—a tree, or a boulder, perhaps, instead of on the edge of my property.”
    Charlotte’s mouth wrenched from his, and Philip opened his eyes to find her staring down at him, her expression frozen in shock.
    “I can still see you, you know. You’re not invisible simply because you stopped kissing.”
    Charlotte’s eyes widened and she jerked out of his grasp, leaving Philip with a clear view of the other person, who stood on the opposite bank of the stream, her hands propped on her hips.
    He stifled a curse. “Good morning, Lady Grey.”
     
    Charlotte surveyed the tall woman at the top of the embankment. She was the very picture of straitlaced gentility, every button in place, not a wrinkle to be seen. Even the wind dared not disturb a wisp of her hair.
    Smoothing her own muddied skirts, Charlotte pasted a pleasant smile on her face, as if she hadn’t mere moments before been cavorting on the ground with her estranged husband.
    No doubt she appeared as wild and wanton as everyone believed her to be.
    She nodded her head, uncertain how to address the woman who had been destined from birth to become the Duchess of Rutherford. The woman who Charlotte had, by turns, admired, envied, resented, and eventually pitied.
    Joanna. Their childhood friend, Philip’s former fiancée, and Ethan’s almost bride.
    And now the widowed Lady Grey.
    It would have been a cozy reunion if it hadn’t been so . . . well, so damned awkward.
    And, of course, if Ethan had been present as well, instead of off in India or China or some other godforsaken heathen nation.
    “Your Grace,” Joanna answered, curtsying toward Philip. She then turned to Charlotte. “And Your Grace.”
    The silence seemed to stretch endlessly as they each waited for the others to breach the stifling tension, to venture beyond the brief, stilted exchange of greetings.
    In the end Charlotte picked up her ruined skirts and, sending the fallen log a rueful glance, splashed her way through the stream and up the opposite bank.
    “Joanna,” she said, “I hope you don’t mind my dirty skirts.”
    She lifted a brow. “No, I—”
    “Good.” Charlotte embraced her. “It is wonderful to see you.”
    Joanna’s body stiffened in surprise at her gesture, but then her arms rose to return Charlotte’s hug. “You naughty girl,” she whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “Now he will have to feign decency or appear an utter ogre.”
    “He is always an ogre.” Charlotte released Joanna and looked sideways at Philip, whose expressionless mask had slid into place with practiced ease. Even with mud-stained clothes and mussed hair, he exuded masculine grace and authority.
    Charlotte frowned. She should push him into the water. It would be well worth his wrath just to have him lose his composure, to have him sputter and curse like a normal person.
    It was easier to contemplate how to anger him further than to think about their kiss. To realize that, for the briefest moment, she’d enjoyed the pressure of his mouth against hers, the hot rush of pleasure as he attempted to conquer her will