Read Online What a Duke Wants by Lavinia Kent - Free Book Online Page B

desire for his mouth upon her own was more powerful than anything she could remember.
    A few years ago she’d kissed more than one man and enjoyed every single one. Kisses had been fun and flirtatious. They held the possibility of risk, but of only the most minor variety. And she’d certainly never needed them, felt that she couldn’t survive without them.
    Unfortunately what had been true of Miss Isabella Masters, lady of the ton , was, however, not true of Miss Smith, nursery maid.
    A kiss that for Miss Masters was light entertainment could spell disaster for Miss Smith. Her teeth bit into her lower lip. Maids and governesses could be dismissed over a kiss—in fact, not only could be, but probably would be.
    So was he worth the trouble a kiss might bring?
    And did she have any choice? She did not believe she could live without knowing what his lips felt like.
    Surely she deserved a single moment of happiness. Surely she deserved the kiss she needed before she was forced to flee, forced to leave him behind.
    She stepped closer, felt the heat of his body against her breast. She raised her head slightly, tilted her neck to the perfect angle, looked at his lips, inhaled, letting her own lips part, moved her gaze to his eyes, and back down—waited.
    And waited.
    She could feel his glance upon her, knew her invitation was not subtle.
    He stared down at her lips and suddenly she knew it would be now, that moment when a well-behaved girl would step away, but. . .
    S he didn’t realize he was the duke. It was such a relief. Douglas had talked to her and kept his secret. He would have to find out exactly what the man had said. Mark stared down at her softly lit face, so sweet and trusting, though he always had the feeling that she could do anything at any time.
    But was he really so stiff? He must be getting better at being the duke than he’d imagined.
    He would admit to feeling different when dressed and combed. There was something about being fastened into stiff brocades and expensive silks that made one change. His shoulders went back further. His chin rose just that tiniest of bits. And his eyes—he supposed he even looked at the world a bit differently when he was the duke.
    When he was the duke.
    It seemed an odd way to think about it, because he was the duke all the time, but he just didn’t feel it. Someday he supposed it would grow around him, become part of him, but right now it seemed like something he put on along with his coat, like something his valet kept locked away and took out when it was time to dress each morning.
    But right now, right this second, this moment, he was anything but the duke. He was simply a man, and only a man.
    She moved closer to him. He could feel her breath against his cheek, feel her gaze upon his mouth. She could not possibly be aware of the invitation she was sending, an invitation it was beyond his power to deny.
    “Are you going to kiss me?”
    The question was so soft that at first he wasn’t sure he’d heard it.
    “You keep staring at my lips, but you’re not doing anything. Are you going to kiss me?”
    He was staring at her lips, staring at them but not quite seeing them. He focused on their rosy fullness. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
    Her glance darted from his mouth up to his eyes. Her skin flushed and he could tell she wanted to look away, step away—instead she stepped closer, her eyes dropping back to his mouth. “Yes.” She said it firmly, but then hesitated. “I know I shouldn’t want you to. I’ve known you less than a week—hardly half a week.”
    “Has it only been that long?” He ran a finger across her cheek. “It feels so much longer, as if I’ve known you forever.” And it did.
    He knew he shouldn’t kiss her. She was right about that. And he certainly shouldn’t kiss her here—on the inn steps—where anybody might see.
    He stepped closer, his fingers slid down and cupped her chin, bringing her face nearer.
    And he kissed her. Light.