It was a terrible mistake.
Scorching fire blazed there. Incendiary. Mesmerising. She was caught like a fluttering creature. Fascinated by what could engulf her.
‘Miss Simmons, you look quite enchanting.’ He pressed his lips against her fingers. The firm warmth of his mouth seeped through the thin silk of her glove. She remembered the last time he kissed her hand. Soft lips brushing over bare skin.
‘Bloody hell,’ she whispered.
Heat was replaced by a spark of humour in his eyes. ‘You say the sweetest things, Miss Simmons.’
6
Lady Winterbourne and Miss Simmons sat on one side of his carriage while Killian reclined opposite them. It was a dark evening, and the women’s faces were masked in shadow. He couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to Miss Simmons. Her copper hair caught the passing streetlamps and shone like a flame in the heart of winter. She was stunning. The shimmering silver of her gown set off the rich colour of her hair and smooth perfection of her skin. Her seamstress was the very Devil, knowing precisely what to expose and what to keep hidden to drive a man insane. Killian danced on the edge of chaos.
At least Lady Winterbourne’s withering glares tempered his imagination and kept him from doing something rash.
There were so many ways a man could seduce a woman in the small confines of a carriage. If only there wasn’t a chaperone present. And if only that chaperone wasn’t the terrifying Duchess of Dorset.
When they reached the Somerset’s estate, a long line of carriages waited to offload the sparkling lords and ladies.
‘I must confess, I am not a frequent attendee of Lady Somerset’s Ball.’ As conversation starters went, it wasn’t scintillating, but he was preoccupied wondering how soft Miss Simmons’s skin would be against his mouth. Whether her scent of vanilla and orange blossom would be stronger at the pulse point of her throat.
Lady Winterbourne speared him with her gaze. ‘Something we have in common, Your Grace. Though my husband was frequently in attendance. He couldn’t pass up an opportunity to play cards with his cronies. He knew your father, I believe. I was very sorry to hear of your parents’ accident.’ Her voice softened when she mentioned his parents.
Killian sat straighter in his seat. ‘Yes. It was a shock.’ It always surprised him how the gaping wound reopened with the slightest provocation. Though years had passed, grief was still raw and vicious.
‘They seemed truly in love.’ Lady Winterbourne looked out of the carriage window as they passed under one of the lamps set around the drive. The flickering light highlighted her striking profile.
‘Yes. They were very happy together.’ Had Lady Winterbourne been happy in her marriage? She painted the picture of a devoted widow, but something in her tone seemed haunted.
‘Is that what you hope for in marriage? A love match like your parents?’ Miss Simmons asked.
Killian swung his gaze to her. She pressed her lips together as if wishing the words had not escaped.
He felt the added weight of Lady Winterbourne’s regard, and both women stilled, waiting for his answer. When did his cravat become so tight? ‘Don’t paint me as a romantic, Miss Simmons. You will be disappointed. I plan to marry a woman of impeccable breeding and immense dowry, as all dukes do. We shall provide the dukedom with heirs, then I imagine we’ll spend the rest of our lives happily pursuing separate interests.’
‘That sounds very lonely,’ Miss Simmons murmured.
‘A capital plan,’ Lady Winterbourne declared simultaneously.
Killian repressed a smile. ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I hope we’ll be cordial to one another. But one does not need love to find a partner.’
‘And often, partnerships are better off without love.’ Lady Winterbourne removed a fleck of lint from her skirt.
‘It’s all so very mercenary. Breeding, check. Dowry, check. Heir, check. As a woman of inconsequential parentage and miniscule means, I count myself quite lucky.’ Miss Simmons’s sharp words bounced off the carriage walls. ‘I have nothing to fear from dukes seeking dowries.’
‘You have everything to fear from this duke,’ he muttered to himself before saying loud enough to be heard, ‘One might say your situation is just as lonely as mine.’
She blinked, and Killian immediately regretted his words.
He softened his tone. ‘But you are correct, Miss Simmons. With your particular set of skills, I imagine you have little to fear from anyone.’ The image of her wearingthatdress while holding a blade to the throat of a vagrant flashed through his mind.
Lady Winterbourne snorted. ‘All women have something to fear from men, Lord Killian. Especially powerful idiots with more money and titles than brains in their heads. Oh, look. We’ve arrived.’ She turned toward the door as the carriage trundled to a stop.
The duchess did not wait for Killian to exit and assist her. She alighted immediately after the door was opened and the step was set. Gliding over the cobbled path with the grace and poise of a swan on a serene lake, she left Killian and Miss Simmons in her wake.
Killian climbed out of the carriage and held his hand for Miss Simmons. She hesitated.
‘It’s much easier than shooting a man, Miss Simmons. You simply reach out and grasp my hand.’ He smiled.
