He fought the urge to grind his teeth. He was still getting used to people calling him “Your Grace,” but not the way she made the honorific sound, like someone crunching glass between their teeth.
“Lady Lucy, I was hoping to have another word with you in here.” Instead of allowing her to say no, he shot out his hand, captured her wrist, and dragged her into the drawing room on the other side of the corridor. That was how one had to deal with the likes of Lady Lucy. Give no quarter.
He tugged her into the room behind him, shut the door after them, and turned to face her. She did not look amused. The light from a brace of candles across the room illuminated her unusual eyes.
“Where is Lady Cassandra this evening?” he asked.
Lucy gave a long-suffering sigh. “I told you. She’s not here. I thought you could gather as much from her absence.” There was that eternal sarcasm.
He spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m asking you where she is.”
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a narrowed-eyed stare. “And what if I said I don’t intend to tell you?”
Derek closed his eyes briefly and poked his tongue into the side of his cheek, biting against the words that rushed to his lips. The ones he wanted to say. The ones he shouldn’t say.
“Allow me to attempt this in another manner, my lady. Why are you so intent upon meddling with my affairs?”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “Meddling with your—? Oh, that’s funny. You might have fooled me. I was under the impression that you just accosted me in the corridor and pulled me in here for questioning as if I were a French spy. But apparently, I’m meddling withyouraffairs.” The look she gave him was entirely ironic, complete with batting her long, sooty lashes. Derek longed to wipe it from her face. Mostly because he could smell the tantalizing scent of her soap, and it was a shock to his groin.
He set his jaw, trying to keep on task. “Do you deny that you’ve been interfering with my courtship of Lady Cassandra?”
A half smirk popped to her lips. “Absolutely not.”
Her color was rising and she looked even more beautiful than usual. Derek paced away from her. “And I’m asking why? Why do you insist upon interfering?”
“Why do you think for a moment I owe you an explanation? Your arrogance is beyond bounds, even for a war-hero duke.”
“Is that so?” he thundered.
“Yes. It’s so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.” She attempted to step around him, but he blocked her path.
She plunked both hands on her hips and tilted her head up to face him, shooting sparks at him with her eyes. “Using your size and your strength to intimidate me, Your Grace? You might frighten Cass but you don’t frighten me.”
He shuddered with frustration. He wanted to reach out and shake her. Why was this woman so bloody difficult? He’d known opposing generals who’d made him less angry and given him more to go on when trying to decipher the best course of action to win the battle. His hands were on his hips, too. He eyed her, breathing heavily through both nostrils.
She taunted him with her next words. “At a loss for words, Your Grace? That’s a first.”
She battled those gorgeous lashes at him again. His pulse jumped with each look. That was it. She’d batted them one time too many.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” he growled just before he tugged her into his arms and brought his lips down to claim hers.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lucy’s mind floundered in circles when the duke’s mouth met hers. Stunned. That’s what she was. Her breath caught in her throat, and her mind raced at a speed she was quite certain was not healthy. He was kissing her. The Duke of Claringdon, the war hero, the man who’d heretofore been attempting to court Cass, was kissingher.Her mind might be floundering, but her body, as if by a will of its own, molded to his.
She should push him away. That thought rode her brain like a horse winning at the Ascot, but all she could do was feel the hot wetness of his mouth on hers, recall the little dimple in his cheek that she’d seen just before his lips claimed hers, and feel the beating of his heart that happened just below his Adam’s apple. Her heart slammed into her rib cage again and again. It was almost painful. But when the duke turned her in his arms and pulled her against him roughly, his tongue pushing between her lips and ravaging her mouth, she ceased thinking entirely.
He tasted like brandy. She’d snuck a sip or two from Papa’s stash in the study on special occasions and yes, the duke was exactly what brandy tasted like. But better, because along with it was the passionate force of this man whom she had to admit she was wildly attracted to. True, she didn’t like him one bit, but gorgeous and rugged and handsome and muscled… Ooh, she shuddered. Against her will, not to mention her better judgment, her hands moved up to twine around his neck. He was so tall she was forced to stand on tiptoe even though he was bending down to her. He groaned in the back of his throat and pulled her even more tightly against him. His tongue was hot and wet and skillful, demanding, taking but also giving, and Lucy was rocketed with a barrage of sensations and emotions she’d never known existed.
She became vaguely aware of a moan. It must have been her own. It jolted her back into consciousness. She pressed with all her might against his broad shoulders. He pulled back and stepped away, panting a little and staring at her with those hooded green eyes as if she were some mythical creature come to life and not a flesh-and-blood woman standing in front of him her lips no doubt red and swollen from his potent kiss.
She stood there dumbly, breathing heavily, her hand pressed against her middle. Her stays had never felt so tight. Her body had never felt so hot. Her mind had never been more confused. What the devil had that been about? She pressed the back of her hand against her lips. They were scorching as if he’d burned her. She placed her other hand against the back of the sofa to steady herself, breathe.
What had she just done?
Kissed the abominable Duke of Claringdon, that’s what.
It was improper. It was indecent. It was wrong for half a score of reasons. She didn’t evenlikehim. Not like that. Not likeanyway.
