Page 19 of Denying the Duke (Lords and Ladies in Love 3)

n his grave, and already you are looking to push his betrothed on me.” God, he hated saying that. At one time, he would have gladly whisked Patience away, married her, and given her babies.

But that was before.

Before war had infused him with ugliness. Before he’d given orders that killed some of his own men, one of them a youth barely out of short pants. Those experiences had changed him from the unworldly, optimistic young man he’d been, to the cynical and hardened man he now was. No amount of wealth, power, or return to ton life would erase the memories with which he’d been left. At this point, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to inflict his tortured self onto any woman, let alone one he’d coveted for years.

No. If he were ever to consider marriage to Patience, it would be his decision, her acceptance, and in his own time.

“Don’t be foolish, man. No one said an announcement had to be forthwith. I’m saying before someone else snatches her up, you should secure your claim on her.” Wilton leaned back, his eyes narrowed, a leer on his face. “She is still wagging her tail, and you’re still sniffing around her skirts. You can’t hide that from me.”

If Wilton had not been a guest in his home, he would have grabbed the man by the throat and throttled him. Instead, he used the control the military had taught him and stood, tugging on his jacket sleeves. “I will allow that filthy comment about your own daughter to pass, since I do not wish to upset the ladies in the next room. However, if something of that nature comes out of your mouth ever again within my hearing, I promise I will not use such self-restraint.”

He swallowed the last of his brandy. “Now, I am going to join the ladies for tea. You are welcome to join me or stay here.” He stepped back from the table and left the room.

The scene in the drawing room tugged at his heart. Lady Wilton and the duchess sat with their backs to him, involved in a lively conversation while Patience sipped her tea and stared at the flames in the fireplace. Perhaps Wilton was right. While he would not describe his interest in Patience in such a vulgar manner, he did feel the draw between them.

He took the opportunity to study her. She inhaled deeply, her creamy breasts rising and falling, driving all his blood south. He still wanted her. Not like the youth he’d been, but like the man who’d had many women over the past four years. He’d slept with the most skilled courtesans on the Continent, and yet, this mere slip of a girl had the power to bring him to his knees.

He strolled into the room, then stopped in front of her. She looked up at him, a warm smile on her face. Very reminiscent of the girl he once knew. He held his hand out. “Would you care for a stroll in the gallery?”

Patience placed her teacup alongside her and stood. “Yes. I would enjoy that, Your—”

He touched her lips with his finger. “Come.” He took her arm, covering her hand with his. They left the room, passing Wilton on his way to the drawing room. Alex ignored him as they continued down the corridor to the gallery.

They paused right inside the door where the painting of the most recent duke hung. “I am surprised Cyrus had time to have a portrait finished.” Alex addressed Patience. “How long was he the duke before he died?”

“He was summoned home when your father died. That was a little more than a year ago.” They both stood and studied the man of whom Alex had no good memories. However, he had been his brother, and he had, indeed, died too young. Leaving him as the ill-prepared Duke of Bedford. He attempted to work up some sympathy, but it was not there.

They moved along until they stood in front of his father’s portrait. The Duke. No matter how long Alex held the title, in his mind his father would always be The Duke. He examined the portrait, surprised at how little the man’s countenance affected him. Alive, his father had been vital, commanding. The artist had not captured his essence.

He suddenly became aware of the warmth and softness of Patience pressed against his side. He tugged her closer, enjoying the scent of lavender and mint that he would always associate with her. His stomach muscles tightened, and he looked her over seductively. Her beautiful breasts rose and fell in time with his pounding heart. Apparently, being this close to him was affecting her as well.

“Do you remember the last time we stood here admiring my ancestors?” His voice came out low and suggestive.

Patience looked up at him, licking her lips. “I do.” Her answer was somewhat breathless.

He reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her head back. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. Her pupils were wide, the deep green of her eyes darkening. Slowly his head dipped, and he brushed his lips back and forth over hers. They were as sweet as he remembered. His fingers tangled through the curls alongside her face, and he rested his hand at the back of her head.

A series of quick soft kisses turned into a savage possession of her mouth. His tongue swept in, and he wrapped his arm around her waist as her knees buckled. Deep inside a little voice told him this was not a good idea.

Chapter Six

If Alex continued to kiss her like this, Patience was certain she would tumble to the floor. She did not remember his kisses as this disquieting. Thank goodness he had a good grip around her waist because she’d lost all sense of time and place, and was sure her knees would never hold her up. He pulled back and scattered kisses over her jaw, her neck, and lower, to her—oh my!

“So sweet. Just as I remembered,” he murmured in her ear, then returned his lips to her mouth, nudging it open, taking command. She wound her arms around his neck, fingering the curls at the back of his head. In some ways, he was the Alex she remembered, but this older Alex was a muscular, determined man. He demanded and he took. He plundered and he seized.

His finger slid into the top of her bodice, gliding along, grazing her nipple that immediately beaded. With one quick movement, he pulled the top of her gown down, releasing one breast to his hungry eyes. Instead of being embarrassed as his hand covered the plump mound, she had the urge to remove all her clothes, and his, so they could be skin to skin.

Her head fell back and she moaned as his mouth covered her nipple and suckled. The spot between her legs dampened, and began to ache, longing for something. She had the urge to push that part of her against something hard. Alex drew her gown down from her shoulder to expose the other breast, which he feasted on.

Patience was having a difficult time gaining enough air. Her clothes felt restrictive, tight, like parts of her body were swelling. What was happening to her?

Just as she was about to yank at her gown to free herself from its constraints, Alex released her nipple with a pop and rested his head against her forehead. “Oh, Patience, I should not have done that.”

Perhaps he had the presence of mind to speak coherently, but she was not even sure at this point what language she spoke. Before she could gather any articulate thoughts, he pulled up the top of her gown. She stood, staring at him, still addled and swaying slightly.

Running his finger down her cheek, he said, “We must return to the drawing room before I make an irrevocable mistake.”

They were already back, settled in the chairs they had left earlier, before Patience’s thoughts cleared.