Tall, Dark & Notorious: The Duke's Cinderella Bride. Carole Mortimer

thank you, Your Grace.’ She stood up to cross the room and clasp both his hands in hers. She looked up at him with glowing green eyes. ‘Thank you. Thank you!’ She punctuated her words with kisses placed upon his hands, finally laying her cheek against one of them with warm gratitude.

      Hawk had stiffened at her first touch, needing all of his will-power at that moment not to snatch his hands from the soft feel of her skin against his as she pressed his hand to her cheek. It was such a creamy softness. A sensual softness.

      His thumb seemed to move of its own volition in order to stroke that silky warmth, and Hawk hesitated only slightly before he allowed his thumb to touch the rosy pout of her lips. Lips that parted slightly at his touch. The warmth of her breath against his skin was a caress in itself as she looked up at him with those trusting green eyes.

      What Hawk would do next hung finely in the balance. His gaze remained on those softly parted lips, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw as he fought the need he felt to taste those lips. To taste all of her. From her creamy brow to her dainty feet. He was sure that at this moment, being her reluctant saviour, Jane would deny him nothing.

      But if he were to take advantage of her gratitude what would that make him? Beneath contempt—and in his own eyes no better than the people she was so desperately trying to escape!

      ‘Stop it, Jane!’ His voice was harsh as he pulled his hands from hers, turning sharply away from the hurt that now shadowed those expressive green eyes. ‘I suggest that you wait here while I go in search of Dolton and instruct him to arrange overnight accomodation for my ward—’

      ‘Your ward, Your Grace…?’ Jane echoed faintly, sure that she could not have heard him correctly.

      His mouth thinned disapprovingly. ‘I can think of no other explanation for the presence of a young and single lady, travelling alone in the company of the Duke of Stourbridge. I am sure that Dolton, with his new penchant for subterfuge, will have no trouble at all in thinking of an excuse for your lack of maid,’ he continued dryly. ‘Perhaps he could invent an unexpected illness that has prevented her immediately accompanying us to Gloucestershire?’

      ‘Gloucestershire?’ Jane said dazed, suddenly very still. ‘But I thought—You are not returning to London, Your Grace?’ she prompted sharply.

      ‘No, Jane, I am not,’ he confirmed mockingly. ‘Mulberry Hall, principle seat of the Duke of Stourbridge, is in Gloucestershire. My plan had always been to go there for the rest of the summer. As I have no intention of allowing you to travel anywhere unchaperoned, you will obviously have to accompany me there.’

      Jane stared at the Duke disbelievingly, too shocked at that moment to argue.

      She had believed the Duke of Stourbridge to be returning to London from where she would be able to buy passage on a public coach to Somerset. And to the warm, comforting bosom of Bessie.

      Instead, it seemed Jane now found herself forced to accompany the Duke—a man who had already induced the most erotic longings inside her—to his estate in Gloucestershire…

       Chapter Five

      ‘You are very quiet this morning, Your Grace.’

      There was no response to Jane’s soft observation except the sound of grinding teeth. The Duke’s teeth.

      It was a sound she had heard several times during the two hours they had shared the ducal coach as it travelled to the Duke’s family seat in Gloucestershire. It was rather irritating coming from a man who normally displayed such an air of control and good breeding. Perhaps it was a habit he was unaware of…?

      The silence that had beset him since the two of them had parted the previous evening, following a shared dinner downstairs in the inn’s parlour, was also unsettling.

      They had disagreed throughout most of the meal, of course, as Jane had continued to protest vehemently at the Duke’s assertion that she would accompany him to Gloucestershire. The Duke had remained equally adamant, especially in view of her refusal to share her future plans with him, that he would not even consider leaving her at a coaching inn along the way, so that she might make her own way to London.

      Jane had thought the awkwardness between them at least partially resolved when she had been forced to back down in the face of the only alternative the Duke would consider to his own plans, which Jane liked the sound of even less than accompanying him to his estate in Gloucestershire—that of being returned to Markham Park and her guardians forthwith!

      Admittedly, their goodnights to each other had been a little frosty, but Jane had felt slightly mollified when she’d found that, along with a second bedchamber for the Duke’s ‘ward’, Mr Dolton had also engaged the services of the daughter of the innkeeper to act as Jane’s temporary maid, and a steaming hot bath had been there for her enjoyment.

      After a good night’s rest, Jane had risen from her bed this morning, determined to make the best of her situation. After all, although the Duke was completely unaware of it, Gloucestershire was in fact much closer to her real destination of Somerset than London…

      Mary, the innkeeper’s daughter, had returned to Jane’s room shortly after she had completed her ablutions, carrying a breakfast tray. So Jane had no occasion to see or speak to the Duke again before joining him inside the ducal coach to resume their journey.

      As expected, the coach was as magnificent inside as out, with seats upholstered in such a way as to afford them the maximum comfort. Even the sun had come out mid-morning to cheer her. In fact, it would have been a very pleasant journey indeed if not for the noticeable silence of the Duke.

      And the grinding of his teeth, of course…!

      Now Jane risked a glance at the Duke from beneath her lashes, at once seeing the reason for those grinding teeth: his jaw was clenched so tightly the bones there looked in danger of actually snapping beneath the pressure.

      She had tried several times to engage him in conversation these last two hours. She had remarked on the weather as she removed her cloak, and her increasing nervousness at his continued silence had caused her to explain that the green gown she wore today—a particular favourite of hers—had been a birthday gift from Sir Barnaby the previous year. On both occasions she had received only a scowl and a grunt in reply, and she had not felt brave enough since to attempt further conversation.

      She sat forward slightly now. ‘Have I done something to disturb you this morning, Your Grace?’

      ‘Have I not told you—repeatedly—to stop “Your Gracing” me with every other word?’ He glared darkly.

      Jane blinked at the fierceness of his expression. ‘I do not know what else to call you, Your—sir…’ she amended hastily, as he breathed so heavily down his nose it sounded almost like an unbecoming snort.

      ‘Have I not invited you to call me Hawk?’ His scowl darkened.

      ‘You have,’ Jane confirmed softly, her cheeks feeling slightly warm as she remembered the occasion on which he had done so. ‘But while that may do when we are alone, it will hardly suffice when we are in the company of others.’

      ‘It cannot have escaped your notice, Jane, that we are not at this moment in the company of others!’ he bit out tautly.

      He was being boorish, Hawk knew. But he could not seem to stop himself. As he had already surmised the previous day, when Jane had first asked to accompany him and he had refused, travelling alone with her in the confines of his coach was pure torture!

      For one thing she looked so damned happy this morning. Totally unlike the cowed creature he had met for the first time two days ago on the stairs at Markham Park. Was it really only two days since this young woman had literally launched herself into his presence? It seemed much longer! Her eyes shone with excitement today, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips seemed to be curved into a constant smile of contentment.

      To Hawk’s way of thinking Jane had no right to look so happy when she had thrown his