“I ... I....” She wanted to tell him how much she liked being with him, too, however inappropriate it might be.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed her lips.
Chapter Ten
The kiss probably lastedseven seconds, time enough for the duke’s mouth to move sensually across hers, time enough for him to nibble on her lower lip before he drew back.
The kiss was a revelation. Amity was awfully glad the worktable was close behind to support her for she didn’t have a bone left in her body, and her breath had been stolen from her lungs.
As she opened her eyes, she refilled her lungs with an unladylike gulp, breathing in that intoxicating fragrance he wore.
Briefly, she saw a look of tenderness and something else upon his handsome face — desire, if she understood the expression, undoubtedly mirroring her own. Her body was aflame with wanting more. Another kiss, a touch of his hand on her skin.
Heaven help her!She was soon to belong to Jeremy, and the duke belonged to Lady Madeleine.
Was he toying with her?Amity had heard of a titled gentleman ruining a maid in his employ. It was a clichéd tale, but it happened all the same. Nobility felt entitled to take what they wanted because no one ever told them they couldn’t. Privileged lords preyed on the powerless — and even the not-so-powerless, such as Charlotte and how Lord Greenley behaved with open disrespect.
The duke backed away. He didn’t apologize. In fact, he didn’t say anything. He looked as confused as she felt. Nevertheless, he had determinedly cornered her and kissed her!
She was about to tell him to leave — or beg him to kiss her again! — when he nodded stiffly and walked out of the room. Hurrying forward and peering through the open curtain, Amity watched him go, without acknowledgment, straight past Charlotte who was behind the counter and past two customers deciding on what to buy.
He tugged open the shop door, his broad shoulders held rigidly as he strode out into the watery London sunshine.
Well!
***
HENRY HAD NEVER DALLIEDwith a woman in his life. He was no saint, of course. He’d not only kissed a few willing ladies in the gardens of Mayfair’s best townhouses, but upon occasion, he went to the most expensive brothel in London and, for a long night of passion, spent more than some men earned in half a year. Once or twice, discreetly, he’d even taken a mistress for a month.
But that kiss!His behavior had been different than anything he’d ever done, grabbing the chocolatier and kissing her because she was within arm’s reach and because he desperately wanted her.
He still wanted her. Now, he wanted more of her, but to what end besides slaking his own lust? For that was all it could be. He wanted to strip her down and see her stretched out upon his sheets with a blush of desire on her cheeks and her soft lips parted. He wanted to dust cocoa powder upon Amity’s skin and taste her like a sweet confection.
Dammit!He was thinking of her now as Amity and not Miss Rare-Foure.
And if he did experience her delights — after seeing how her brown eyes and dark hair looked in the moonlight as well as in the morning sun following a night of lovemaking — then what?
