“That is for you, sweet,” he said huskily, his voice raspier than she recalled. “If you are good.” He smoothed himself in small circles over the flat of her belly.
A moan slipped mortifyingly free.
His lips curled in a wolfish smile. August leaned down and placed his lips beside the shell of her ear. “Will you be good for me?” he whispered, giving her nose a light tweak. That playful gesture at odds with the burn of his gaze.
“You know I’m not good, August,” she said, her voice so thick she didn’t recognize it as her own. How many times had he caught her peeking at his cards or sliding his billiards ball away?
His nostrils flared, and he drew in a swift, hissing breath.
He palmed her nape and angled her head.
Meghan’s pulse pounded in her ears.
It was about to happen—her first kiss.
She had dreamed of this moment.
As a small girl, she, along with her sister, Linnie, and cousin, Cassia, had used pillows to practice their first kisses. Not one of them had understood the great mystery of it. Especially Meghan. She had ended with a mouth full of feathers.
And now—his breath warm against her lips—she would finally have answers.
Suddenly, August stiffened.
“Wh-what?” Meghan sought to clear her head clouded with desire for this man. For his kiss. For his heart.
An unmistakable march of heavy footfalls sounded in the corridor.
The blood drained from her face.
Outside the orangery, a frantic search played out.
Her legs finally obeyed. Meghan bolted in the opposite direction.
Click.
Heart hammering, Meghan ducked between a row of orange trees when a voice reached her.
“Culross.”
That familiar honeyed baritone sent a chill through her.
If she were not afraid a single movement would bring the duke down upon her, she would have clapped her hands over her ears.
“Commandeered Rutland’s orangery for your own tryst, have you?” Hate laced the duke’s austere tone.
Lord Culross chuckled. “Ah, the duke does not take well to being usurped.”
The duke would despise coming second, in anything. Faithless and fickle, she found herself on the side of the man baiting—
“The very same could be said of you, Culross.”
Violence crackled in the air.
Meghan bit the inside of her cheek. Pain cut deep, for August, and for herself.
August desired Meghan some—but his heart belonged to her sister. Linnie’s ghost would forever stand between them.
“Leave it to the old Duke of Hartwell to interrupt my good time,” August said coolly.
