The Scandalous Love of a Duke. Jane Lark

know it too, but no one else need know a thing.”

      Her gaze struck his and then fell to the box. She appeared tempted.

      “Take it,” he said more gently.

      “But what does it mean, John?” she whispered, her gaze lifting to his again. “What do you want from me?”

      He could see there was no anger left in her now, only questions.

      “I don’t know.” It was the truth. She deserved honesty from him if nothing else. She had been honest with him on the road and admitted she had wished to be kissed. “I am attracted to you, as you are to me, I can say no more than that. I wish to give you this, Katherine. I wish you to take it. That is all for now.”

      “John?”

      “You give me ease, Katherine. Let me give you this. Let me think of you wearing it and know you think of me. Perhaps one day I might see you in it.”

      Her hands finally reached to accept it and her bare fingers touched his, they melted the feeling of cold ice in his stomach to water, the reaction disturbed him, and suddenly vulnerable, he turned away and crossed to the French door.

      “What is going on, John?” she whispered behind him.

      He turned back. “Nothing.”

      “I don’t understand you.”

      Nor do I understand myself. Perhaps that was half his problem! Who was he, his mother’s son or his grandfather’s dark, cold, unfeeling monster? Far more the latter lately. But he didn’t wish to be, and Katherine could make him feel warmth.

      He walked back towards her, his gaze holding hers as physical and emotional desire burned inside him like an inferno. “You are beautiful, Katherine.”

      “You are beautiful, John. I am not.”

      “You are to me. I like your hair, and your eyes. I like you.” —And I want you.

      He took the box from her hands then discarded it in the chair, before lifting her chin. She did not turn her head away, her gaze held his, bright with the knowledge that he intended kissing her. “Katherine.” He kissed her gently, unable to comprehend the level of feeling in his chest. How could she have come to mean so much to him in such a short time?

      His kiss travelled to brush her cheek, her nose, her temple, as her face tilted towards him like a flower to the sun. “I like your skin too,” he whispered.

      She shivered and her fingers clasped his coat at his sides, as though her legs could no longer hold her up.

      He liked affecting her like this. She was nothing like the women he’d known before. She was everything he craved.

      Castle’s heels rung on the floorboards in the hall.

      They pulled apart sharply and John turned and walked back to the window, looking out once more as his heart pounded and his groin ached with the need for fulfilment.

      He clasped his hands behind his back, only to stop them shaking.

      He wanted to touch her.

      Katherine thanked the butler and he heard her take the tea tray and set it down.

      It was not tea he was thirsty for.

      When she brought him a full cup, he turned and met her gaze again, very aware of the door which still stood open.

      She could not shut it. It would be the height of impropriety to do so, but at this moment, it was only that open door which saved her chastity. He wished to do wicked things with her, very wicked things, and he didn’t know if it was his monster roaring or just the boy who desperately longed to be loved.

      “Katherine…” John’s pale eyes shone as he looked at her.

      She had thought him vulnerable at the funeral months ago, with no evidence to pin the thought against. But today she could see it clearly.

      There had been a desperate desire for acceptance in his eyes when he had pressed the bonnet on her, and there was insecurity in them now. She could see nothing of the arrogant man who’d jumped down from his curricle less than a week ago. This was a different person. The boy she had known and the young man who had left for the continent, grown up.

      “John,” she said in a low voice, “I do not understand what is happening? I can be no one to you.”

      He took the full cup she held out. “You are wrong. You can be everything to me, Katherine.”

      She felt the earth shift beneath her feet but she did not know what to do. So she turned away and sought her cup.

      “I have never felt this way for anyone before, Katherine,” he said behind her. “I have no idea what it is, or how to progress, all I know is, I wish to be in your company constantly … ”

      Her heart pounded. It was John saying this to her.

      She was about to turn back, when she heard the front door open. Her cup wobbled in its saucer as she jumped.

      “Sir, the Duke of Pembroke is here.”

      Her father.

      She set her cup aside and moved before the hatbox, her heart thumping even harder.

      “The Duke of Pembroke?” Her father’s voice rang along the hall. Then his brisk footsteps could be heard.

      She did not look at John.

      “Your Grace.” Her father appeared at the open parlour door.

      “Papa.” She moved forwards, knowing she must look guilty as she tried to ensure he would not be able to see the box resting in the chair.

      There was a question in his eyes.

      John set his cup down and crossed the room, offering his hand. “Good day, sir.”

      Her father accepted it and shook it briefly, before letting go.

      “I called to accept Mrs Spencer’s invitation to your gathering for Jenny, sir,” John progressed. It was a lie of course.

      Her father was stiff and silent. He looked at Katherine again. “I am sure your mother will be pleased, Kate.” He did not sound pleased.

      Katherine bit her lip. He seemed to have sensed there was something odd going on, but then she was acting as though she had something to hide. Did she? There was the bonnet, but… what else…

      Her heart thumped as her father’s gaze passed back to her.

      “Katherine?”

      “John also brought word from Phillip, father.” Now she had lied too.

      Her father’s eyebrows lifted and then he looked back at John. “I was sorry to hear of your grandfather’s passing.”

      John nodded. “Your son does well in town, sir.”

      “He does…”

      Their stilted conversation passed over Katherine’s head as she watched John change back into the Duke – untouchable, unreachable, distant and withheld.

      When it ran dry, John turned to her, his eyes cold and direct. “As we still have the sunshine, even though it’s a little blustery, I wondered if you would care to walk in the garden with me.”

      She looked at her father. There was still a question in his eyes which said he was unsure what to do. “Shall I leave you two young people to stroll then, Kate, and retire to my study?”

      She nodded.

      “Your Grace,” he said to John, bowing.

      “Sir,” John responded.

      Once he’d gone, Katherine turned to John. “You are shameless, the way you manipulate people.”

      He merely laughed as she moved to ring the bell for Hetty to collect the