Misleading a Duke. A.S. Fenichel

to her height, he pressed his lips to hers.

      Making no demands, he just let their lips touch.

      Faith sighed against his mouth. She hadn’t even known she was waiting for his kiss, but she would never have enough. Wrapping her hand around his neck and lifting on her toes, she pulled them closer together. Her entire body quivered with need for more of him.

      Nick’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight against his chest, nearly lifting her off her feet.

      She gasped and he plundered her mouth with his tongue. The outside world disappeared into obscurity and there was only Nick and his glorious mouth making her want more than a nice lady should, but she didn’t care.

      Feeling his desire pressed hard against her, she tightened to him. Her center pulsed for contact, hoping he felt the same and satisfied when he groaned in pleasure.

      He traced from her jaw, down her neck to her shoulder, and each kiss set her more aflame.

      “Nick.” The voice coming from her was unfamiliar, filled with passion and need.

      “Good Lord, Faith. Say it again.” He trailed a path of kisses back up to just behind her ear.

      Her knees buckled, but he held her in place. “Nick,” she repeated obediently.

      Crushing her to him, he nuzzled her hair. “You will be the death of me. I don’t know how it happened, but I have completely forgotten how angry you made me and can think only of your sweetness.”

      She laughed against his chest. “My sweetness is fleeting. I’m just glad I had Thea keep Rumple in the kitchen. Lord only knows what he would think of this.”

      Smiling down at her, he brushed a wayward hair back from her forehead. “Everything is a game to a puppy.”

      As she drew a deep breath, she shuddered. There was an intensity in the air around them that prickled her skin. She took a step out of his arms. “You mentioned your parents. I know your father has passed, since you are duke. What about your mother, are you close with her?”

      “Sadly, Mother did not survive the year after Father died.” His solemn reply spoke of a man who’d admired his parents.

      “I’m very sorry. Was theirs a love match then?” It was so strange to hear of dukes being deeply in love with their wives. Most married to have children and increase their standing either financially or politically. They kept love at arm’s length. The majority took mistresses as well. Her stomach heaved and she fought down the disgust.

      Nick reached out and took her hand. “They loved each other, but the marriage was arranged. They were married quite young and had known each other as children. My sister, Countess of Dunworth, is older by three years. She tells me they were always touching and kissing even when she was small.”

      “It sounds quite magical to have a love so true that your mother could not go on without him. I’m sure you miss them a great deal.” She let him lead her forward until they were only an inch apart.

      He kissed her fingers. “I do miss them. Mother and I were particularly close. For a while I was angry with her for leaving, but I’ve come to understand that my father provided her zest for life. Without him, she withered.”

      Faith’s heart broke for the couple who had created Nick and loved so truly. She brushed a tear away. “Would you like more wine?”

      A cold wind blew through the hothouse, indicating the door had been opened. Faith had told the meager staff that they were not to be disturbed, so something must be wrong. “Thea? What is it?”

      A man with a round face, ruddy cheeks, and an odd accent stepped around the large potted orange trees into view. “I’m afraid it isn’t your cook, my lady. She and the other two are safely locked in the cellar.”

      Nick’s grip tightened and he tugged her behind him. “Charles, what on earth are you doing here?”

      Another man, tall and good-looking with sharp features and cruel eyes, stepped from behind the trees. This man sounded well educated but distinctly French. “We are here to settle a debt, old friend.”

      “Joseph, this is a surprise.” Nick’s voice could cut glass.

      Faith gripped his arm and his muscles were tense as a bow pulled back and ready to fly. They might be playing the part of friend for the moment, but these were dangerous men. “I did not know we were to have company. May I offer you gentlemen some wine?”

      A third man, dressed in the English style and with an elaborately tied cravat, joined them. He had a scar above his left eye and the blacks of his eyes nearly disappeared, leaving only the palest blue. He and the man Nick called Joseph were tall and lean. “I’m afraid that is not what we came for, Miss Landon. You may not know this, but you have aligned yourself with a fiend.”