“You do want to, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.” But he could probably read it on her face. “I am not breaking my agreement. It would be too ... hurtful.”
He looked incredulous. “You don’t want tohurthim so you will marry a man and spend the rest of your life with him, all the while having stronger feelings for me. Plainly, you are too chicken-hearted to acknowledge those feelings.”
Chicken-hearted?“Are you calling me cowardly?”
“If the feathers fit,” he said, still with a teasing tone.
He was sure of himself, that much she could tell.And why not?He was every girl’s dream, including hers.
“Putting my feathers aside, my main reason remains. A duchess cannot make chocolate.”
He sighed. “I don’t know of any who do, that’s true. I don’t know many duchesses at all for that matter. We dukes don’t all stand around together at a club, being ducal.”
“Don’t you?” She couldn’t help the mirth in her tone. The image of Henry and a bunch of old men, as most of the current dukes were, standing on the plush oriental rug at whatever club they favored, probably White’s, and discussing things only dukes would know or do struck her as immensely funny.
She started to snicker, then to chortle. When he joined in, she grabbed her bedpost and laughed heartily.
“You are making fun of me,” he said, “and you’ve taken up my valuable time, so I am adding another two minutes.”
Amity took a few breaths and managed to control herself. “Let us agree neither of us have heard of any duchesses who do anything except sit for portraits, run charities, and become ladies-in-waiting to the queen. Isn’t that right?”
He nodded and took a step closer.
“I cannot give up making chocolate, no matter how—”how very much she loved him. She feared how empty and lifeless she would become. “No matter how tempting your offer. A chocolatier is who I am.” She paused. “And it is unquestionably not the pastime for a duchess.”
He had taken another step closer, and by some magic, his hands were upon her waist, drawing her against him.
“I should ask your permission, but I fear you will say no.” With that warning, he bent low and claimed her mouth.
Hot sparks of desire shot through her. As Henry’s broad hands roamed up her spine, every part of her body sizzled and trembled. Something deep inside seemed to become molten heat at his touch. Her fingers feathered into his hair and held his mouth against hers.
With her heart pounding, Amity let him slide his hands into her hair and dislodge the casual bun she’d created that morning. Pins went everywhere although many stayed put, liable, she feared, to poke one of Henry’s eyes out.
“Amity,” he murmured against her lips, and she forgot the hairpins.
Moaning slightly, she let his hot tongue slide into her open mouth. Gasping at the sensation drew him in farther. With a wildness she’d never imagined, she sucked on his tongue, making him groan in turn.
She was on fire and began to yank at the buttons on the front of her gown, thinking of nothing except wanting to feel his touch upon her heated skin. Finding it too difficult with shaking fingers, she switched to yanking at his clothing, desperate to touch him.
Contrary to every impulse of her body, she felt Henry freeze. He ceased kissing her and rested his forehead against her own. Then, he grasped hold of her hands to stall their frantic movements.
***
HENRY WAS AMAZED AThow this proper young woman, who was so determined to honor her engagement, could ignite in his arms with such rapidity. His own body was also in flames, and his manhood was like a flagpole.
He could simply tell her how much he loved her, but that seemed particularly manipulative at this juncture. Either she would feel compelled to return the sentiment — whether she felt it or not — using words she’d probably recently said to her fiancé, or she wouldnotsay them. Far worse, as far as he was concerned.
If she didn’t say them back, he would seem a groveling fool, and if she was determined to marry Mr. Cole, Henry would be exactly that — a fool.
He wanted her to give him some sign she preferred marriage to him over that damned lawyer. Drawing back, he looked at her flushed face. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and she was breathing heavily, as was he. He took her pretty chin between his fingers.
“Amity,” he commanded.
She shook her head slightly to dislodge his hand.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Henry ordered as she retreated from him.
