Again, he wore an expression of disapproval.
“Do not worry, my ... Your Grace. I will find time to whip up a batch ofPelhams,even if my sisters cannot get the blend right.”
He stared at her, with his nostrils flaring and an intensity flickering in his green gaze.
“I don’t give a damn about thePelhams!” Again, his voice was a little too loud for their country home.
“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
Stepping closer until she could smell his familiar spicy fragrance, he took her hand. “What I care about, Miss Rare-Foure, is you!”
Amity stared at her hand held firmly in his, then raised her glance to his face, sucking in an awed breath at what she saw. Genuine affection shone from his verdant eyes, plain to see. She shook her head. This could not be happening.It must not!
“I am engaged,” she said, wishing her voice had held more conviction.
“Pish,” the duke said, as if that meant nothing. “I am asking you to marrymeinstead.”
The sensitive matter had finally become apparent. She tugged her hand free from his. And with thoughts running wildly in her head, she went to the study door and closed it, leaning against it for support.
“Amity,” he began. “Please, may I call you Amity? It is how I think of you in my head.”
“You should not be thinking of me at all,” she protested, despite the fact that practically all she’d thought about was him since the first time he’d invited her into his coach.
“I stood in front of friends and family,” he continued, beginning to pace in the ridiculous slippers, an old pair belonging to her father. “And I could not ask her.”
She realized he was talking about his party.
“I simply could not imagine a life without you. When you dashed out of the ballroom, all my happiness went, too. Except for the coffee chocolates, of course. And that joy was also due to you and your thoughtfulness. As soon as I tasted one, knowing you’d crafted something like that solely for me, it gave me hope you felt the way I do.”
The duke approached her again, and Amity flattened herself against the door. Her heart was racing, and she desperately wanted to feel his arms around her, hold his face in her hands, and kiss him.
What was wrong with her?It was like a madness, and she fisted her fingers in her skirts to keep from reaching for him. She cared for Jeremy, yet for some reason, she didn’t feel this same urgent desire when around him.
“I know we have known each other hardly any time at all,” the duke said, mere inches in front of her, his gaze boring into hers, “but we understand one another, do we not? I haven’t laughed so much with anyone. And our kiss—”
“Shh,” she said, unable to believe she was shushing a duke. Not even an earl or a marquess.A duke!Second only to a prince of the realm. Nevertheless, if her parents heard of her inappropriate behavior in the back room of Rare Confectionery, she wouldn’t be able to bear their disappointment. Or worse, if Jeremy caught wind of it — she should have thought of himbeforeher parents. He was her fiancé now.
“Please!” she begged. “You must go.”
On the contrary, his hands were at her waist drawing her against him.
“Why must I go?” he asked, his glance flickering to her mouth.
In turn, she looked at his. “Because this is improper.”
“Not if we’re engaged,” he said.
“We are not.”
“But we could be,” he promised.
“I cannot have two—”
His lips claimed hers, stealing her breath as well as her thoughts. Her hands somehow found their way up his chest and around his neck to clasp behind his head, his intoxicating scent filling her nostrils. He tilted his head until their mouths perfectly fused. She felt the tip of his tongue touch the seam of her lips and opened to him.
He groaned. She moaned. Their tongues slid across one another languidly, and then suddenly, Amity was hit on the back of the head. Twice.
The door!She tried to break free but was trapped. Luckily, the duke realized what was happening and jumped back like a leaping frog in the spring, while Amity turned to open the door wide. It was Beatrice.
