The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(8)

She was unpredictable.

He tamped down his desire. He needed to have his wits about him. He could not allow Chloe Somerton, no matter how attractive, to distract him from his purpose. He owed a debt of honor that he intended to uphold.

Her fingers twisted in her lap. “Your attempts at bribery are for naught. I won’t hurt Henry.”

“You are a thief and a liar. Forgive me if I don’t believe a word you say.”

Her blue eyes sparked with fury. “Do you want to know what I think?”

He leaned back in his seat. “Please enlighten me.”

“You’re bluffing. You attempted to use your dukedom, your wealth, and even your physical presence to intimidate and bribe me. You have failed on every account.”

It was as if she’d thrown down a gauntlet. The months since the war had been mundane. He’d joined the army and purchased his commission as a younger son, a spare. But he’d returned from battle only to learn that his father and brother had died in a freak accident, and he was the new Duke of Cameron. He’d had his fair share of difficulty managing all the estates, but it hadn’t been close to the flash of challenge in her eyes.

“As I said, I believe telling Henry my past would devastate him,” she said.

Devastate him, not her. Her words revealed the true extent of her emotions regarding his young ward. She knew Henry would be horribly upset if Michael revealed Chloe’s past and ruined her reputation. Henry could never propose to her. She would suffer the consequences of scandal, but she wouldn’t be heartbroken, which confirmed she didn’t love Henry.

Why did that thought buoy him? He must be a heartless bastard after all.

“You need a man, Chloe Somerton, not a boy.”

“You think Henry is a boy and that I need someone else?”

“That’s precisely what I mean.”

“I see. And you think it should be you?”

“Why not?” The thought came to him suddenly and the words were out of his lips before he could consider all the consequences. Since his return to England, he hadn’t bothered with a mistress. Even that type of relationship seemed too permanent. He enjoyed women, of course, but only brief affairs with widows who’d wanted a night of pleasure in his bed, never innocent, unmarried ladies.

Which made him wonder if she was even a virgin. She wasn’t raised in a proper household. Her father had been a thief and a criminal. And if she had been immoral enough to follow his example and steal, then it wasn’t a far leap to assume that she’d been with a man. Either way, there was something about Chloe Somerton that provoked and aroused him.

Once again, she stood abruptly, and he followed. But instead of reaching for her cloak and attempting to flee, a coy look crossed her face and she licked those pink lips. Reaching out, she touched him with the tip of her forefinger to the center of his chest. She grazed his shirt, just above his heart, and he sucked in a breath. Every inch of his skin tightened in awareness.

Jesus.

“Careful, my lady. You play with fire.” His voice was hoarse to his own ears.

She dropped her hand and a satisfied smile curled her lips. “You’re wrong,” she said in a taunting voice. “You are the last type of man I want or need.”

“Prove it,” he said.

She hesitated. “How?”

“A kiss. If you don’t feel anything, then I’ll believe you have true feelings for young Henry.”

“I cannot.”

“What are you afraid of? I’ll keep your secret and leave you to enjoy Henry’s pursuit.”

He could see the indecision in her eyes. He was surprised at how badly he wanted her to agree, to take the challenge. At last, her impulsive nature won and she took a step forward. “All right. One kiss.” Standing on tiptoe, she clutched her hands by her sides, raised her pert chin, and shut her eyes.

His lips twitched with humor as he gazed down at her upturned face. Seconds passed, then she opened her eyes. “Well?”

“I prefer you to look at me.”

“And I prefer to shut—”

He pulled her to him and swooped down to capture her mouth. Desire spiraled in his gut at the very first touch of their lips. Her hands were against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. She wasn’t as tall as he liked, but her lush curves pressed against his hard angles in all the right places. She tasted like wild strawberries and the whisky he should not have given her. It was a tantalizing combination and reminded him just how complicated the lady was. He felt his iron control slip, and he caressed the length of her back and pressed closer.

She gasped, and he took advantage and his tongue swept inside her mouth. Her fingers curled into the linen fabric of his shirt, and her lips relaxed beneath his. The tentative stroke of her tongue, hesitant and light as a butterfly, tangled with his. An explosion of lust shot straight to his groin. Instinct took over and he increased the pressure of his kiss, his tongue greedily exploring the recesses of her mouth.

The uneven rhythm of her breathing made him come to his senses. This had gone too far and was not what he’d intended. With effort, he lifted his head to gaze down at her upturned face.

His voice was hoarse. “Just as I thought. There’s fierce passion in you, Chloe Somerton. Don’t waste it on a boy.”

She touched her lips. “You’re wrong. I felt nothing.”