A Regency Duchess's Awakening. Amanda McCabe

any task that presents itself.” He reached again for her foot, but that mischievous imp that sometimes came over her took hold. Laughing, she tucked it further in the voluminous folds of her skirt, making him search through the ruffles to find it.

      When he caught her by the ankle, he drew her closer to him and leaned down to kiss her instep. A great shiver rushed through her at that touch.

      Shocked, she almost cried out his name before she remembered they did not know each other. Her fists curled on his shoulders as his lips slid up her ankle. It was—oh, so very delicious.

      And surely not proper in the least! She shouldn’t let him do that, she should—well, maybe just one more little touch. Just to see what happened.

      Emily closed her eyes tightly against the sensations his touch created. His hand slid slowly, slowly from her ankle up the back of her calf. His mouth followed, open, hot through the silk. Oh, why had no one ever told her such feelings could exist! This was nothing at all like the terror Mr Lofton’s kiss awakened or the slight disquiet of Mr Rayburn’s touch. This was something else entirely.

      He nipped lightly at the curve of her knee, and she gave a strange, strangled mewling sound. She opened her eyes and looked down to see a most startling sight. He was almost hidden by the frothing ruffles of her gown. And he was—oh, he was kissing her knee.

      Emily’s legs went weak under her, and she collapsed to the ground beside him. Her skirts dragged free of him, leaving his cloak askew. Off-balance, he fell atop her, sending them both flat on to the path with him above her.

      He braced his hands to either side of her head, pushing up to stare down at her. His body blocked the moonlight, the trees, everything. He was all there was in the world, him and his wondrous eyes looking at her as if she was all he desired.

      No one had ever, ever looked at her like that, as if they saw her right down to her soul. People saw her beauty, her façade; sometimes they even thought they saw who she was, and dismissed her as chilly, proper and dull.

      Ironically, no one had ever looked at her, as he did not when she was in disguise.

      Full of wonder and terrifying fear, she slowly reached up and touched his face below the edge of the mask. His skin was warm and taut as bronzed satin, roughened by whiskers along his jaw. She touched the echo of that dimple, hidden now by his sudden solemn intensity. She ran her fingertips over his lips, which parted on a gasp. They were surprisingly soft…

      He lowered his head and touched those lips to hers. Emily had been kissed before, once or twice by brave suitors, and thus she thought she knew what a kiss felt like—sloppy, wet, an unpleasant intrusion.

      But now she saw she had no idea whatsoever what a kiss was. This was a kiss.

      It was slow and soft, almost gentle, as he brushed his mouth back and forth over hers, pressing little kisses to her lower lip. Those slow caresses, though, ignited something deep inside of her, some burning, frantic need. She curled her hands in the folds of his cloak and dragged him closer, her lips parting instinctively.

      He groaned deep in his throat, and the kiss changed, became more frantic and needful. Shockingly, she felt his tongue trace the line of her lower lip. When she gasped, he slid inside.

      It was so very intimate. She could taste him, wine and mint and night air, feel him as his tongue twined with hers and she tentatively responded. Her palms flattened and slid around his back. Through the layers of cloth she felt the taut shift of his muscles, the tension of his body as he held himself above her.

      But she did not want him to be away from her! She wanted him closer. She arched up against him, holding on tightly as that kiss deepened. Through the sparkling haze that had fallen over her mind and senses, she vaguely felt his hand slide along her side to her hip. He traced its curve before curling into her upper thigh and urging her closer to him. His palm smoothed over her backside through her heavy skirts.

      Emily was sure there was something—everything—she should not be doing. Her everyday, practical, shy self was screaming at her to cease at once! She should certainly not be rolling around on the ground with the Duke of Manning, kissing and letting him touch her there. But that scream seemed the merest of faint squeals through that fog of heady need. She wasn’t Emily, not now, and he was not the duke.

      His lips slid from hers, along her cheek below her mask, tracing the line of her jaw. He nipped at a spot just below her ear that was shockingly sensitive. Emily gasped at the pleasure, like a burst of ripe summer fruit, sparkling and tart on her tongue. She sought his lips with hers again, eager for another kiss.

      Barely had their mouths touched when something did break through that haze—an explosion high over her head. A real explosion, not one in her fevered mind.

      Emily’s eyes flew open to see fireworks in the sky above her, red and blue and bright-white against the black night. It was as if they illuminated the truth of what she was doing.

      She pushed him away. His blue eyes, lit by those incandescent fireworks, were wide with a shock that echoed her own. Their spell was broken.

      “I am so very sorry.” he began brokenly.

      Emily frantically shook her head. She didn’t want to hear his apologies; this was all her fault. She had forgotten herself in the most appalling way. She had forgotten the lesson so hard-won with the incident of Mr Lofton.

      She was never drinking again, that was for certain.

      She searched for her lost shoe by the sporadic light of the fireworks. “I have to find my friends. I’m sure they will be missing me by now.”

      Nicholas found the shoe by the side of the path and held it out to her. She was glad he didn’t try to replace it on her foot—she didn’t know what she would do if he touched her again. Obviously she was a complete wanton who could not be trusted.

      “Let me see you back to the colonnades,” he said quietly.

      “No!” Emily cried. She thrust her foot into the shoe and leaped to her feet. She swayed uneasily at the sudden movement, completely unsteady. The punch, which had made her feel so sparkly and giggly earlier, now made her feel rather sick.

      He was beside her in an instant, steadying her with a gentle touch on her arm.

      “I am fine, thank you,” she managed to say in a semi-ordinary voice. “I can find my way back.”

      “I know why you would not want to be seen with me,” he said. “But at least let me follow at a distance and make sure you find your friends safely.”

      Safely? Emily nearly laughed aloud. What more danger could she possibly find? The danger obviously lay inside of her. She was a hoyden.

      The thing that truly made her sad and regretful, though, was that one moment when she imagined he really, truly saw her. He didn’t even know the woman he had kissed was her, Emily. She was just a stranger to him, and tomorrow he would surely forget her and this moment in the dark woods.

      But she feared she would never forget.

      “Please?” he said. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

      Emily nodded, and set off towards the colonnade. “You’re going the wrong way,” he called.

      She spun around and headed in the opposite direction. The lights and noise grew as she came closer, the glow of the real world surrounding her again. She glanced back to see if Nicholas still followed her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

       Chapter Six

      He was the biggest damnable fool that ever lived.

      Nicholas strode down the street. The walkway was crowded with shoppers and servants laden with packages, yet he hardly saw them or heard the greetings of his acquaintances. He wasn’t there, in the fine, sunny