The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(25)

“Especially right now, I’d wager.”

He heard a tremor in her voice. “Wait, are you chilled? Where are you?” He reached out with his free hand and touched her.

Stepping forward—it didn’t take much to reach her—he settled his coat on her shoulders. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

He didn’t take his hands away. “Why did you come out here?”

“I—”

He heard the hesitation in her voice and felt a shiver in her body. He didn’t think that was from the night air. “You can tell me. If you want.”

“I felt…overwhelmed. As if I couldn’t breathe. I just needed to get out.”

God, he’d felt like that his entire life. “I was never able to sit still when I was younger. Or wear clothing. I often felt like I wanted to crawl out of my very skin. I used to scratch myself raw.”

“That sounds horrid. How did you stop?”

“I don’t know. Leaving here helped.”

“And now that you’re back? Things aren’t as bad as they were?”

No, he supposed they weren’t. Just as he had a few moments ago, when she’d pointed out that his brothers were indeed gone, he felt a lightness. Because of her.

Without thinking, he moved his hands closer to her neck and stroked the bare flesh above the collar of his coat, his thumbs tracing just below her jaw. He felt the muscles in her neck contract as she swallowed.

Her pulse sped beneath his touch. He moved closer until their bodies barely met. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“Yes.”

He lowered his mouth and found her lips, moving softly but purposefully. He realized he hadn’t asked permission. Yet she’d given it.

He cupped her face, gently tilting her head. Her hands came up against his chest, but not to push him away. No, her fingertips pressed into him and then curled around the lengths of his cravat, effectively tugging him to her.

With a soft groan, he curled his hand around her neck and deepened the kiss, his lips molding against hers. She moved her hands up the cravat and wrapped them around his shoulders, all the while bringing her chest to his.

The feel of her so close ignited a passion that had lain dormant within him the last several years, since Louisa’s death. He hadn’t been a monk, but he also hadn’t felt this.

Desire curled in his gut and hardened his cock. He moved one hand down her back and splayed his hand at the base of her spine, his fingers caressing the top of her backside.

Her hips pressed into his, and she gasped. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he took the invitation—prayed it was an invitation—stroking his tongue along her lips. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as her tongue met his.

This wasn’t what he’d planned. Hell, he’d just wanted to escape the ballroom and find a moment’s peace. Instead, he’d found heaven.

Their bodies came together as need spread through him like wildfire, hot and erratic and completely uncontainable. This could spiral beyond his control so easily… He eased back—just a bit—calming the kiss.

She pulled on his cravat again and took control of the kiss, her lips moving over his before opening once more. If she wasn’t going to back away, neither was he.

He speared into her mouth, and she moaned, a dark, sensual sound that only fueled his desire. He didn’t know how long they kissed, but by the time they finally parted, his heart was thundering in his chest and his breath came in short, fast pants.

She sounded much the same, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“The same thing that came over me. Anyway, I started it.”

“And tried to finish it—I think. But I wouldn’t let you.” Her voice wobbled a bit, and he couldn’t tell if it was due to uncertainty or embarrassment or something else entirely.

“Hopefully, you can tell that didn’t bother me. On the contrary. Mrs. Shaw, that was extraordinary.” His body was screaming for completion, and if he were a different man, he might consider continuing their mutual seduction right here in this dark, private corner of the garden. His reaction wasn’t an exaggeration. He wanted her with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years.

He drew her to him again, their bodies connecting. “You are extraordinary.”

“I’m… Thank you.”

He had the sense she was going to argue with him. He was coming to know her—she thought less of herself than she ought, he realized. She was incredibly intelligent and wise and caring, and yet she didn’t seem to know that. Or project that. In a way, it reminded him of himself when he was younger, before he’d escaped.

And watching her with Evie made him smile. His daughter spoke of her often, how she always spent time with her and Becky, whether it involved making clothes for the dolls, reading them stories, or apparently arranging for them to mold marzipan with the cook.

Yes, she should be a mother. Why not Evie’s mother? He needed a wife, and he liked her. He sure as hell liked kissing her. He knew he’d enjoy bedding her too.

“Marry me,” he blurted.

She stiffened, but even if she hadn’t, he’d immediately realized he’d bungled that proposal.

She took a step back. “I cannot.”