What the Duke Wants(50)

Carlotta couldn’t resist a saucy smile at his banter and handed him a bright red apple.

“Ah, the forbidden fruit,” he commented lightly.

“Pardon?” Carlotta felt her good humor drain. Hadn’t she called him that just last night as she pondered on her bed?

“The forbidden fruit. I suppose we don’t know if it was truly an apple that Eve ate when tempted by the serpent, but the same truth still applies.” He remarked as he rolled the apple between his palms before taking a bite.

“And what truth is that?” Carlotta asked.

“That we are doomed to always want what we cannot have.” His eyes were dark, his full lips drawn into a firm line.

“Indeed.”

“Is this where you took the girls?” he asked as they finished their meal. Standing he helped her up as well.

“Yes. You should have seen their delighted faces when I gave them bread crumbs to feed the ducks.”

“They enjoyed themselves?”

“Immensely.”

“I wouldn’t suppose you had any extra bread crumbs on hand?” he asked, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.

“I do.” She opened up a hamper that a footman had deposited behind them and pulled out a tied linen cloth. “Here.” She opened it and handed a chunk of stale bread to the duke. His warm fingers caressed her palm as he took it, his darkening gaze communicating that the contact was more than intentional.

Carlotta dropped her gaze.

“Stale bread is quite a delicacy for ducks, is it not?” he teased, his countenance brightening with charm.

“They are quite assertive, aren’t they?” she commented with a laugh as a duck thumped another of its companions with its wing in efforts to steal an unusually large chunk of bread.


“They simply know what they want,” the duke commented lightly.

Carlotta glanced from the ducks to him.

His expression was anything but light. Rather it was smoldering with double meaning. Her heart caught in her throat as she felt her lips tingle with the memory of his kiss.

As if sensing her weakening he took a step forward, then paused, his expression a myriad of conflict. Carlotta broke their gaze and turned to open the hamper once more to deposit the now empty linen.

“We should return,” she commented lightly and stood not paying attention to her whereabouts. Her waist was warmed by his hand as he pulled her back against his chest. His breath was warm as it caressed her neck, his lips inviting as they placed a lingering and heated kiss just below her ear.

“Your grace, any one could see—”

“Let them.”

“But—”

“Carlotta, you talk entirely too much,” he said lightly as he traced up her arm with his other hand, leaving delightfully warm tingles. Slowly he turned her around. Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at his perfectly tied cravat, swallowing her own desire.

“Carlotta,” he whispered, petitioning her.

It was her undoing.

Slowly lifting her gaze, she visually caressed his strong jaw, the soft sensual curve of his lip, the straight arch of his nose until she finally lost herself in the blue regard that burned like the hottest part of a flame.

He leaned in to kiss her, but paused as if warring against himself. No doubt, he was considering her words from last night.

To kiss her would prove his selfish intentions. Or so she said. Right now though, it would be more of a selfish action to not kiss her.

Never had she wanted anything so desperately.

Forbidden fruit.

Before she could restrain herself, she rose upon tiptoes and kissed him. It was delicious; he tasted like apples and smelled like spice.

His passion consumed her.

Yet all she could think about was how this was her goodbye kiss. All the other kisses, had been more or less taken. Not this one. This one was of her own accord.

Tragically, it was also meant to be goodbye.

He deepened the exchange, and Carlotta felt her control slipping to the precipice of the edge of her own desire. Abruptly she pulled back, not knowing she was so close to the edge of the river. She wobbled on her heel, waving her hands wildly to gain her balance.

It was no use.

She fell, with a mighty splash, into the river.

“Carlotta!” the duke shouted, reaching in and pulling her out.

Her dress clung to her, the water chilly and immediately causing her to shiver. He fussed over her like a mother hen and draped his coat over her, in spite of her claim that such a foolish action would ruin the coat.

“Better to ruin the coat than cause you to catch a fever,” he remarked, firmly.

The open carriage was chilly and Carlotta shivered the whole way back. He seemed to debate what to do. Finally, with quite hesitant movements, he slipped over to her side of the carriage and reached for her hand. With a question in his gaze, he paused to make sure she wouldn’t refuse him.

After a moment of indecision, she decided that any warmth would be welcome, and reached out to meet his grasp half way. His gaze warmed, like slowly melting honey. The heat from his hand traveled up her arm and into her chest, making the urge to shiver lessen. But even with the connection of their hands, the earlier amusement and lighthearted banter was now stilted. We are forever doomed to want what we cannot have. The duke’s statement haunted her, taunted her, and reminded her of just how true it was. To his credit, the duke tried to pull her into conversation, and while her responses were polite, she felt herself withdrawing into her own shell for protection.