An Innocent Maid For The Duke

‘The archbishop said to the actress,’ Rose mumbled under her breath.

He laughed outright. ‘I heard that, you little minx. Where on earth did you hear such a thing? From one of the servants, no doubt. I advise you not to use it in company.’ He swept back a tangle of shrub that trailed down to the ground, honeysuckle, she thought, to reveal a swing hanging from the limb of a large tree.

‘Oh.’ She felt extremely foolish.

‘Sit. I will give you a push.’ He glanced up at the sky, ‘And then you probably should go, before dusk draws in.’

He was right, the sky above was a much deeper blue now and the sky to the west was turning golden and pink.

He held the wooden seat steady by the ropes while she sat. The thing wobbled beneath her bum. She gave a little shriek.

‘It is all right. I won’t let you fall.’ He frowned. ‘Hold on to the rope above the knots.’

Right. Of course. She’d seen pictures of this. She could do it.

‘Relax.’ His grin was infectious and, yes, there was a little dimple in each cheek she hadn’t noticed before. Her stomach gave an odd little hop. With a swallow, she eased her death grip on the rope.

He pushed the seat and it swung forward a foot and back a foot. She gasped. He pushed again on the backward swing. This time she went farther and her feet were far off the ground. She felt as if she’d left her stomach somewhere behind her. It caught up to her the moment she started going backwards.

She shut her eyes tight.

He pushed again.

She opened her eyes as the air rushed against her face and tugged at her hair as the ground fell away. This must be how birds felt when they flew.

‘Tell me if it’s too high,’ he said the next time he caught the wooden seat and pushed off again.

Her body relaxed. It wasn’t too high. It was wonderful. She laughed, throwing her head back, gazing up into the tree. The rushing air forced the bonnet from her head, the ribbons caught, then let go and it flew away. A strange sense of joy filled her. She couldn’t help it. A feeling of...freedom. She smothered the urge to laugh until she was breathless.

Gently, carefully, as if she was precious, he brought the swing to a stop. He came around to face her a smile on his lips, gazing down at her with such a look in his eyes, she felt seared to her very soul. A feeling something like the one when she had when they danced in the Green Room.

Slowly he dipped his head.

She lifted her face to meet his searching gaze, a sense of wonder filling her heart. A feeling so powerful, it felt as if it would burst out of her chest.

Their lips met.

The magic of his kiss swamped her, so light and tender, a brush of his lips, a touch of his tongue that made her insides tighten and her breath leave her lungs in a rush.

His arm went around her, bringing her to her feet, her body flush with his. She twined her arms around his neck, floating on a cloud of hot sensation, her breasts feeling heavy and full, her heart pounding against her ribs, her whole body melting into his.

One large hand cradled her face, warm, strong. When had he removed his gloves? Why did she care? Feeling his skin warm against hers, his strength held under control yet supporting her with a sureness that made her feel weak, was heavenly.

He nipped at her bottom lip, teased with his tongue until on a sigh she opened her mouth and let him taste.

A Florentine Kiss. She’d always thought it sounded nasty, but this was lovely. It created hot shivers across her skin, wicked pulses low in her abdomen, an expanding sensation of joy that made her heart feel too large for her chest.

A groan rumbled up from his throat and his fingers speared into her hair.

One of her hands had, of its own volition, settled on his chest. It trembled in time to the beat of his heart. The sensation seemed to travel all the way from her fingertips until it took up residence deep inside her stomach.

Her head spun with the onslaught of heat and cold and lightning seemingly happening all at once.

His free hand cupped her hip, pulling her close to his lovely lithe body, so firm against hers. The ridge of his arousal pressed against her belly. Her dazed mind sounded a warning. She pushed at his chest, felt resistance, then, to her relief, he eased away, their lips continuing to cling for a fraction longer. He stepped back.

He was breathing hard.

As was she.

What must he think?

Wanton. Just like your mother.

She covered her mouth with her hand before she said something stupid. Like, thank you. Or, again, please.

With horror she realised her hair had come down and was now a mess of lopsided curls. ‘I should go.’ She looked around for the bonnet. It wasn’t hers to lose.

‘Rose.’ He held out a hand to her, a careful smile on his lips. ‘Sweetheart.’

The sound of the endearment made her want to weep. Couldn’t he see, she could never be his sweetheart? She wanted a home. A family. A husband. If she didn’t leave now, that dream would be over.

While he had been kind and very sweet, that kiss meant he knew she was no lady. Knew she was not his equal in any respect and he had as good as said he would be marrying soon. A lady. A woman of his own class.

There was no sign of the bonnet. Darnation, she would buy Diana a new one. ‘I’m sorry. I cannot do this.’ She picked up her skirts and ran.

The crunch of his feet on the gravel followed. Got closer.

She spun around. Backed into the gate. Hands pressed flat against rough wood behind her. ‘Don’t.’

His expression was puzzled. Perhaps a shade angry. And he had her bonnet dangling from his fingers.

She put up a hand to halt him. ‘Please. Let me go. This was a mistake. I’m sorry.’

He froze, his body rigid. ‘I beg your pardon, Rose.’ He bowed.

The hurt in his eyes stopped her breath. The urge to stay wrenched at her heart, perhaps even her soul, she felt such a pang. Staying would make things worse. If he knew what she was, then it would ruin everything. Spoil the memories.

She whirled around. In seconds she was out of the gate and running. At the end of the alley, she collided full tilt with someone. She let out a shriek.

‘Rose!’ Flo’s voice.

She had waited, despite Rose telling her not to. She almost collapsed with relief.

Flo held her by the upper arms, her eyes blazing as they search her face. ‘The bastard. Wot did he do?’

‘No, no. He didn’t do anything. It was me.’

Flo’s gaze went back up the alley. ‘Blasted toffs.’