The Desires of a Duke: Historical Romance Collection Read online

  “It’s a lovely evening,” Lady Satterfield said as she placed her napkin on the table. “Kendal, why don’t you take Nora for a walk around the garden?”

  Nora’s heartbeat sped. There went the comfort she’d only just found.

  But why? It was a walk, nothing more, through a very small walled garden. And maybe he didn’t even want to go.

  “Certainly.” Kendal stood and helped Nora from her chair.

  Apparently, he did want to go. Or he was merely being polite.

  Lord Satterfield assisted Lady Satterfield. “I’m off to my club for a bit.” He pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek.

  She leaned close with a warm smile before looking toward Nora and Kendal. “And I’ll just be up in my sitting room answering some correspondence. I don’t think I need to chaperone you for such a short jaunt.”

  They all went their separate ways—Lord and Lady Satterfield exiting the dining room into the main hallway and Kendal and Nora to the rear sitting room, which functioned as a library and general gathering space for the family. Kendal offered Nora his arm and led her into the cozy room in which she’d spent several evenings reading from the Satterfields’ excellent collection of books.

  The library was not a small chamber; however, it seemed somehow smaller tonight. Kendal’s presence seemed to invade every nook and inhabit every cranny, and Nora was nearly overcome with awareness. And nervousness.

  She rushed to say something to put herself at ease. “I quite enjoy the Satterfields’ library.”

  He paused, pivoting toward the bookcases that marched along one wall. “Do you? What are your favorites?”

  Nora wondered what he’d think of her tastes, which ran the gamut from romantic novels to gothic tales to poetry to suspenseful narratives. “I have many. I’m afraid it’s difficult to choose.”

  “What’s the last one you read, then?”

  She hesitated, but only briefly. “A romantic novel by Sarah Wilkinson.” Presumably, he’d find her tastes lacking.

  “I’ve read all of her books.”

  Nora looked up at him in surprise. “You read Sarah Wilkinson?”

  He gave her a sly look. “Perhaps you noticed that Lady Satterfield owns every title. She’s always had a penchant for such stories, and, in my youth, I read everything I could get my hands on. Everything.”

  Nora pressed her fingers to her mouth and giggled. “Do you like romantic novels?”

  “I don’t dislike them. If I’m in a particular mood, I’ve been known to read three or four in a week.”

  Her giggles turned to outright laughter. “The Forbidden Duke reads tawdry romances? What would the ton say?”

  “I don’t give a damn what anyone says, but I suppose that would cause a stir.”

  How lovely it must be not to care—not to have to care—what others said about you. “Everything you do causes a stir,” she said, her laughter dying down. “The novels would make you seem more human, however.” She inwardly winced at how awful that sounded. “Oh dear, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to infer you aren’t human.”

  He took her hand and tucked her fingers beneath his coat, guiding her palm flat against his waistcoat directly over his heart. “You can feel that I am.”

  Nora’s breath caught. She looked up at him, her gaze locking with his. “I never doubted it.”

  He let go of her hand, and she slowly, reluctantly let it fall to her side. Frissons of excitement danced up her arms and spread, awakening her senses.

  “You are correct, however, that others perhaps view me differently,” he said. “I don’t allow them the opportunity to be this close.”

  Yet he was permitting her. Again, she considered that he did so only because she was his stepmother’s ward. But because she was curious and impetuous, she asked, “Why am I different?” Immediately she wanted to take it back. She wasn’t different, of course. She was simply here. “Please forget I asked. You are too kind to pay attention to me and support my cause.”

  His lips twisted into a slight frown. “I’m not doing this out of kindness.”

  She wasn’t precisely certain what “this” meant, but she wasn’t going to ask for clarification. “Then why are you doing it?”

  “I don’t know.” He fingered a wisp of hair that grazed her ear. It was a singular moment, as if time ceased to exist between them. But it was fleeting too. He quickly retreated from her, turning his back as he went toward the fireplace. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

  He turned once he was a safe distance from her. “I wanted to ask if you were all right after Haywood insulted you at the picnic.” His tone was crisp, almost businesslike, but it didn’t calm the sudden tumult of anxiety that spilled through her.

  She’d so hoped her encounter with Haywood would go unnoticed, but it seemed scandal might plague her again. “What did you hear?”

  “I don’t listen to gossip. My stepmother informed me of his unwanted attention toward you.” His brows pitched low for a brief moment. “I’ve ensured he won’t bother you again.”

  She couldn’t begin to imagine what that meant. “What did you do?”

  He glanced away from her and shrugged. “He knows he’s not to speak with you or even speak of you. Not only do I not listen to gossip, I don’t tolerate it concerning people I care about.”

  Nora froze. He cared about her? The rush of panic she’d felt at being at the heart of another scandal faded and was replaced with a warmth she couldn’t quite name. “I still don’t know what I did to gain your family’s support. I…thank you.”

  “Why do you think you have to have done something?” His dark brows drew together, and while he didn’t look exactly fierce, he possessed an intensity that could very well be intimidating. “Are you that unused to kindness?”

  Yes, in fact, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit such a shameful truth. She laughed, but it held a ring of discomfort. “You must agree that it’s a bit extraordinary for a prominent family—a duke’s family—to take in a young woman like me.”

  “Like you,” he repeated. It wasn’t a question, but he said it in such a way he seemed to want to know what she meant. Surely he knew of her background. They hadn’t spoken directly of it, but of course he knew.

  She wanted to be certain. She looked him straight in the eye. “A woman who has been ruined by scandal.”

  He slowly arched his brow. “You deserve to be here. You deserve to find happiness—everyone does.”

  A kind and thoughtful Untouchable who seemed to find her interesting… She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his potent stare. “What about you, Your Grace? Are you happy?”

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  She resisted the urge to smile. “That’s not exactly a resounding proclamation of joy.”

  “I am quite happy at Lakemoor. I enjoy working with my tenants. I enjoy my horses.”

  “And reading tawdry romance novels. Please don’t leave out the most interesting thing about you.”

  A laugh erupted from his chest, and Nora gave in to her grin. “Yes, let’s not leave that out.” He walked across the room toward her, coming as close as he’d been before. “Shall we resume our walk?”

  He took her hand and curled it around his forearm. His heat, his scent, his proximity filled her senses. She clasped him more tightly with the need to anchor herself.

  The familiarity she’d believed to have sprung up between them at dinner and over the course of their other encounters suddenly transformed into something else—intimacy. And with it came a hunger for this man who said she deserved to be happy, who danced with her, and who’d come to her rescue with Haywood. She longed to stroke her fingers along the firm line of his jaw, perhaps feel the hairs sprouting there now at the end of the day. Would they be prickly or soft? Tantalizing or abrasive? Tantalizing, she was certain.

  More than that, she wondered what his lips would feel like on hers. The solitary kiss she’d experienced nine years ago hadn’t been pleasant, even before the scan
dal had broken. She hadn’t been in a hurry to try it again, not that she’d had the chance. But now, standing here so close to Kendal, she couldn’t help but think his kiss would be different. His kiss would be everything she’d dreamed of and more.

  She reminded herself that she couldn’t kiss him, and that she probably shouldn’t even be alone with him. This was precisely what had landed her in trouble in the first place. Oh, but if she could kiss him without anyone finding out…

  Walking with him in the garden was perhaps a foolish idea, but Nora still couldn’t bring herself to say no.

  Chapter 9

  Titus guided her out onto the terrace, then down the pair of steps into his stepmother’s garden. “It might be small, but Lady Satterfield prides herself on the roses in particular. You should see the gardens at their country home.”

  He was fairly certain his attempt at small talk was pathetic in the extreme, but his brain was having a difficult time outpacing his body at present. The touch of Nora’s hand on his arm, the sensuous curl of her lips as she spoke to him, the provocative slant of her tawny eyes—all of it triggered an exquisite need.

  Walking with her in the garden was a bloody terrible idea. But he was doing it anyway.

  He steered her toward the roses he’d mentioned. They weren’t blooming yet, but in a few weeks, they’d be a riot of color and a buffet of gorgeous scents.

  She inclined her head toward the neat row of shrubs. “We have roses back in St. Ives. Tending to them was one of my favorite summertime activities.”

  He envisioned her alone in the country, clipping at rosebushes, perhaps pricking her fingers on their nasty thorns. Somehow that seemed a metaphor for Society—beautiful but treacherous. “Will you miss that? I’m sure my stepmother wouldn’t mind if you wanted to tinker with these.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, but I think she will have me too busy with other things. She’s quite committed to ensuring I have a Season to remember.”

  Complete with a husband. He barely managed not to scowl.

  They walked for a moment in silence. He should leave. He’d only come to dinner because he enjoyed dining with his stepparents. Except now, that dinner came with a beguiling woman who occupied far too many of his thoughts. A woman he’d pledged to avoid but couldn’t seem to.

  She tipped her head toward him. “I hope you won’t find me impudent, but I wonder if I could ask how you ended up with the nickname of the Forbidden Duke.”

  He stopped and pivoted toward her.

  She winced and withdrew her hand from his arm. “I’m sorry. Lady Satterfield has indicated you’re a man who values his privacy. Forget that I asked.”

  “It’s not as if I cultivated the name,” he said. “At least not on purpose. I can’t say I dislike it either. People cut me a wide swath, which means I don’t have to suffer banality. For that, I am quite relieved.”

  She laughed. “My goodness. I can’t decide if you’re a snob or just intensely aloof.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, her beautiful eyes widening.

  He laughed with her, delighting in her honesty even while acknowledging that if anyone else had said that to him, he’d give them the cut direct. “Probably a bit of both.”

  Her eyes lit with mirth. “So you enjoy being forbidden?”

  “I enjoy being left alone. If not for my responsibilities in the House of Lords, I would hardly come to London.”

  She sobered. “I see. I am just the opposite, I’m afraid. I’ve been alone for so long that I’m quite eager to be among people.”

  Her tone was matter-of-fact, but there was something else lurking in the depths of her eyes—an uncertainty or perhaps a sadness. Whatever it was, he wanted to banish it. He moved closer to her, drawn like a raindrop to the earth. His blood was roaring in his ears in a thoroughly primal fashion.

  Again, he thought that he shouldn’t be here with her. This moment could be a scandal in the making.

  Only if there was a witness, his mind whispered.

  “I enjoy talking with you,” he said. “It’s a crime that you were alone for so long.”

  Her lashes fluttered. “I enjoy talking with you too.” Her voice was low, unintentionally seductive.

  He desperately wanted to touch her, determine for himself if her flesh was as soft and warm as he imagined. So he did.

  His fingers grazed her jaw. She sucked in a breath, and the sound evoked an even greater physical response, sending his body into complete abandon.

  “We should return to the house.” Her words were barely audible, scarcely more than a breath.

  Yes, they should, but he hated the ton’s stupid rules. Right now, he wanted to rebel against them. “We should. Only…” He wanted to kiss her. So badly. But he couldn’t. Not because of the rules, but because of what she’d already been through nine years ago.

  He edged backward and was shocked when she placed her hand on his lapel. Her touch was light, hesitant.

  “Would you…kiss me?” she asked softly. “I’ve only ever been kissed that one time, and it was awful.” She blinked rapidly and snatched her hand away. “Never mind. I’m far too brazen.” Her face colored, and he could practically feel her embarrassment.

  He didn’t want her to be embarrassed. Nor did he want to deny her request. “You are not. It’s a sin that you haven’t been kissed properly.”

  He stepped closer and lowered his head. He went slowly in case she changed her mind, but thankfully she did not. When his lips met hers, a dark pulse of desire swelled through him. He worked to keep a rein on himself. It would be so easy to get lost in her kiss.

  Her hands came back against his chest, but more firmly this time. Her lips pressed into his, evidencing her participation. But then hadn’t she asked him to?

  Yes, and he was going to make it good for her.

  He tilted his head and lifted his lips briefly before kissing her again. He danced his mouth against hers, keeping himself in check while she acclimated herself to his touch. When her hands crept up to his shoulders, he took it as a sign to go further.

  He put his arms around her and pulled her more snugly against him and parted his mouth against hers. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and he worried she would push him away.

  Please, not yet.

  This kiss was too honest, too beautiful, and he wasn’t ready for it to end. Not until he’d shown her a proper kiss.

  He licked along the crease of her mouth, and she opened, perhaps in surprise. When he plunged his tongue inside, her grip became even tighter. Still, she didn’t pull back or shove at him. Instead, she tipped her head to the side, and it was all the invitation he needed.

  He brought her flush against him, heedless of any sense of propriety. He stroked along her spine as he plundered her mouth. Her tongue met his, softly at first, but then more purposefully. He wasn’t sure at what precise moment this had progressed from a demonstration to a thoroughly impulsive act, but it had crossed that line, and Titus was in real danger of losing control.

  With supreme effort, he pulled his mouth from hers and stepped back. “My deepest apologies, Miss Lockhart.”

  Forget Haywood; Titus was the one who deserved a thorough thrashing. And yet, he couldn’t regret kissing her, nor could he stop himself from wanting to do it again.

  But he wouldn’t.

  She lifted her other hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wary, but something else flickered there—a spark of heat in the tawny depths. “Thank you. That was…quite different from last time.”

  He laughed—he couldn’t help himself. “I am glad to have obliged you. But we can’t do that again.”

  She dropped her hand to her side. “No, I suppose we can’t.” The look she gave him next brought his cock to full arousal. Her scalding gaze dipped down his frame and then back up to his eyes. “Pity.”

  “Miss Lockhart, if you don’t go back inside right now, my self-restraint will be in shreds.”

  Her eyes widened briefly just before she spun on her heel and hasten
ed through the garden on her way back to the house. She didn’t spare him a backward glance before disappearing inside.

  He exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath while she fled. Damn, he was a lecherous beast.

  Hadn’t he threatened Haywood for doing precisely what he’d just done? Perhaps not precisely, but the end result would be the same—the ruination of a lady who deserved far better. And she was so close to the life she ought to have had.

  A phantom voice in his head said he could give her that life if he married her. No, he didn’t want a wife. A wife was a nuisance, something he should probably have but didn’t particularly want or need, and even if he did, it wouldn’t be her. Once she learned the truth about his past, the role he’d played in her downfall, she would—rightfully—despise him. What sort of marriage would that be?

  No, she deserved someone honorable, someone like Dawson, who clearly wanted a wife. He would treat her well, provide her with a comfortable life, and her past would be forgotten.

  A small part of Titus hoped she wouldn’t forget their kiss. He knew he wouldn’t.

  The following evening, Nora and Lady Satterfield were on their way to one of the largest balls of the Season. Hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Colne, it was bound to be a crush from everything Nora had heard. And she’d heard plenty that afternoon at the park.

  Lady Satterfield looked through the window and craned her neck to try to see down the street. “My goodness, we’re backed up already. This is going to be quite a throng.” She looked at Nora with an animated expression. “I do hope Satterfield can find us.”

  Lord Satterfield would be joining them later after starting the evening at his club.

  With a sparkle in her eye, the countess turned her attention to Nora. “Tell me, who do you most hope to dance with tonight?”