It didn’t matter that he was a duke or that he was practically a stranger to her. All that mattered were the vibrations coursing through her veins—tremors that shot from her chest to her belly to her limbs.
His mouth nipped the corner of hers, teasing it, teasing her.
“Miss Jones?” Minty breath mingled with her own. Was he asking permission?
Collette pressed up onto her toes and closed the distance between them.
At the same time, his arms tightened around her, and she could feel his person all along her front. He was hard—everywhere. Except for his tongue and his searching mouth, which were tender as he explored and tangled with hers. And except for his hair, soft and thick threaded through her fingers.
He is kissing me.
She had best enjoy it, because she was unlikely to ever experience it again.
His proposal, as honorable as it was, was also somewhat maddening. She had not been born to be a duchess. She’d been born to be a secret.
Being a respectable teacher took her beyond her wildest dreams. It was more than she ever could have hoped for.
The thought was a sobering one.
She loosened her grip, dipped her chin, and lowered her hands. His chest rose and fell beneath her palms, his breathing as labored as hers.
If not for the sound of footsteps approaching from the corridor behind the door, she might have begged him to kiss her again.
His chin jerked up. “Someone is coming.” He released her abruptly to pound on the door again.
“Hello!”
“Your Grace?” Miss Shipley called from the other side. And then the door shook.
Collette spun around and all but flew up the stairs, stepping lightly so as to make as little sound as possible. As she passed the landing of the third floor, Miss Shipley’s voice carried up the shaft, causing Collette to freeze.
Would she really be ruined if she was discovered alone with him? Was society really so very particular and unforgiving? She raised a hand to her chest, frightened at the possibility that he’d give her away.
But why would he? He cannot seriously want to marry someone like her.
“Your Grace. I am so very sorry. I don’t know how this could have happened.” Collette winced upon hearing the dismay in Miss Shipley’s normally cultured voice. “The banister needed repair and Mr. Driver said he would block the stairwell until he could get around to it. All these doors ought to have been locked… No one should have been able to enter. I am so very, very sorry.” Collette could not have imagined Miss Shipley sounding so flustered. The woman, raised to marry an earl, but then jilted by the horrid man, addressed all matters with the utmost of dignity. “Are you unwell, Your Grace? Are you injured in any way?”
“Placing a written sign on the door would have been a better course of action, would you not agree? What if there had been a fire and it was students trapped instead of me? Repairs or not, this door must never be locked in the future. In fact, have them removed. Is the structure even safe?”
The duke sounded more like the man who’d barged into her classroom earlier than the one who’d been kissing her two minutes before.
“No, Your Grace. And we will have Mr. Driver make the repair to the bannister and remove the locks at once. This will not happen again, I give you my word.”
Collette hovered, crouching now, as Miss Shipley and the duke exited the stairwell, other ladies’ voices now sounding over theirs. Among them, she heard what sounded like Miss Fortune, along with the unmistakable whining voice that belonged to Mrs. Metcalf.
The door closed and Collette waited until she was sure she was alone. Even after they’d drifted away, however, Collette stayed put, stunned. Her time spent in this small stairwell over the past hour with the Duke of Bedwell did not seem real.
And yet, it had been, and she knew without a doubt that she would never forget it. She touched her lips. That had been her first kiss. Was it the only kiss she’d ever know?
But she could not remain here sighing over something the duke had likely already forgotten. She had students to attend to, duties to perform. She couldn’t hide in here forever.
The sound of clanking locks below spurred her into motion. She rose and the very instant she reached for the handle to exit to the fourth floor, the door swung open. Mr. Driver glanced at her hand, which hovered in midair.
“I’ve already unlocked this one.” She swept past him in a hurry.
Cool air hit her cheeks as she shuffled purposefully toward the main stairwell.
That had been close.
