Duke Herheart Final (16 page)

I will have Hallthorpe show you out.” The erstwhile butler was at the door, ready to remove the malodorous matron.

First of all, Michael did not want her there when Kathryn next bounded down the stairs. It wasn’t that he was in any way embarrassed by Kathryn, he just didn’t want her cornered by the gargoyle and forced to answer personal questions. He certainly didn’t want any matrimonial speculations poking Kathryn. Michael shuddered to think that Kathryn might truly go running if faced with the possibility of being stuck out here in the wilds of English back country with the likes of that woman, whose scent, by the way, had made him completely nauseous.

Second and most importantly he could not think about opening Hawthorne to a festival when there was a would-be murderer on the loose.
Women!

“My Lord?” The door to his study eased open and Kathryn peeked in.

“Come.” He set down the report he had picked up, absently thrumming and regarded her. The maid had piled her hair once again and loosened one tendril to brush her shoulder. He rather liked the way this maid was able to make her look almost proper, coiffed and dressed as she was. She was still wearing the clothes from the morning but she seemed to have freshened up.

Something about seeing her brightened his mood. She was sunny and well-disposed and he thought a bit nervous. He watched as she turned to shut the door and hesitated. Then the minx reached for the key and slowly turned the lock until it fell into place. She slipped the key from its hole and glanced down for any pocket. In the swishing skirts, he watched as, finding no pockets, turning to Michael, she dropped the key into the valley between her breasts. Michael stiffened. “I was wondering…well…what men wear under their clothes…”

One dark brow rose in question. “Under our clothes?”

“You know, underwear…you call them smallclothes?”

“I believe you got a sense of what I wear under my clothes yesterday.” She blushed coyly at him. He hoped it was for the memory 93

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of his lips on the fabric that he had licked.

Struggling not to show his smug satisfaction for how thoroughly he knew he had pleasured her, he forced himself to remain passive. She was going to have to say exactly what she had come for, what she wanted of him, if she wanted his compliance or participation. Michael wasn’t about to let the woman out as she struggled with her motives and he was enthralled by the flush that continued to blossom on her cheeks. What did his little minx want to know of
his
smallclothes? “Yes, don’t you call those shorts you wear under breeches ‘smallclothes’?”

“Yes, what about them?”

“I’d like to know if you wear them.” She seemed to now have herself fully in hand despite the warmth in her face.

His rod pulsed at her question so Michael shifted in his seat to release the pressure building in his groin. His guest took a deep breath and stood up straighter while taking another step toward him.

“I haven’t noticed lines in your breeches suggesting maybe you don’t wear them,” Kathryn questioned.

“Lines in my breeches?” Michael lifted a brow.

“You know, panty lines, where the underwear shows on your backside.”

“Panty lines? On my backside?” He lifted the other brow to join the first.

“Yes, your
bottom
,” she exclaimed impatiently. “I am convinced you know exactly what I’m asking and are being particularly…what would you English say,
obtuse
on purpose!”

He allowed her to see his smile as her frustration with his intentional thickness rose.

“Yes, I am teasing…it’s just that this is a most…improper conversation. You are a lady in my…”
shouldn’t say “care” to this lady,
especially after so much highly improper behavior of late.
“You are a guest in my home and it is highly improper for me to discuss smallclothes with you.”
Can’t you tell I am already just holding to some
small degree of self- control?

“I know this is highly improper but it’s… just…well…I am…”

Kathryn stammered.

Michael regarded Kathryn’s perfectly blushing cheeks and longed to feel the heat. His palms itched to touch the swells of her breasts that were peeking once again from the scoop of the modest gown and almost as peachy as her gorgeous cheeks. He remembered how she had enticed him the other night with the masterful working of her supple hands over his rigid flesh. Then he saw the same tendril of hair dancing seductively 94

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that had come to tease him. She was moving closer.

“Would you mind …showing me?” Kathryn asked in a warm purr.

“Showing you?” He allowed the shock to register in his face.

“I know…I know…it’s highly improper. Am I embarrassing you?”

Her drawl had become even more sultry than usual and had dropped an octave in pitch.

“No,” he lied.

“Well,
I
am a little embarrassed but I’d still like to see.” He rose slowly hoping not to embarrass her even more with his tightly tented pants. He had never stood thus before a woman, proudly displaying his erection. He was as he had admitted to himself earlier, a prude, and unused to becoming aroused by his acquaintance. Their previous interludes had not changed that part of his nature. She seemed unfazed but wide-eyed, almost satisfied, and continued moving closer.

“You’re…” she breathed.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Oh.” She shuddered.

“I told you this conversation was highly improper,” his tone low, gravelly. Kathryn flushed deeper but closed the distance until she was within arm’s reach. He reached down to his waistband to slip a button, slowly seductively moving his fingers in front of her. When he reached for the next one, Kathryn stayed his hands. She took his right hand and rested it on her shoulder. Her skin flickered under his grasp and he moved one finger on her glowing skin. She took his left hand in hers, placed it on the other shoulder, and reached her hands to his flap.

Kathryn’s touch knocked the wind from Michael’s chest and his grasp on her shoulders tightened in response. She moved slowly over each of the remaining buttons until she had them all released. For a moment, she hesitated, then pressed on, focusing on a point down the length of his leg clearly avoiding staring at his protruding length.

Michael’s breathing was shallow and he struggled to hold the reins of his desire as Kathryn knelt before him, her posture almost…reverent.

When the temptress reached for his boot, he closed his eyes and gripped her shoulder tightly, instinctively lifting his foot. The gentle tug loosened and the boot dropped to the floor.

Kathryn released his leg after holding him fractionally longer than necessary. He took a deep breath and she grasped his remaining boot.

Kathryn’s hand followed the boot down his leg and then stroked all the way down the rock hard calf she had revealed. His stockings were no impediment to her progress and she pulled gently on the fabric of his pants. The fabric on the leg gave slowly as the pants were tightly fitted to 95

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the solid thighs at her eye level.

With two hands, she guided the pants past his hips, over his knees and down to his ankles.

Michael’s instincts were to pounce on this woman, devour her. She sat before him like a prize catch but there was something so touching, so worshipful in her movements that he shackled his desires and waited for her next move. Sirenlike, she was controlling the game.

Kathryn was giddy. She had never seen such legs. She had already grown accustomed to Michael’s beautiful face and his form but now, with her hands on his thighs, she discovered his legs were s like steel with muscles rippling at every touch. His skin was alive and her fingers were tingling at the tips where she met his hair-dusted flesh.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Kathryn reached for a foot and slipped the puddle of pants from his ankles. She repeated the action until the garment was free, laying his pants carefully aside and reached for his underwear. “What do you call these?”

“Drawers,” he hissed just as her hands reached the waistband.

Using both hands, she slid the lightweight fabric down the expanse of his thighs in one swift motion. She could not continue to remain this close to him without making a much more direct move on him. Drawing a deep breath, Kathryn forced herself to shackle her rampaging desires.

With the underwear at his ankles, she took the opportunity to seek out his eyes but as her gaze rose, it stopped at his erection. Stunned and wide-eyed Kathryn was riveted to his groin, on the thatch of heavy curls that were as a mane for his huge manhood. She ducked her head but curiosity got the best of her and Kathryn could only marvel at the sculptured god she had uncovered. Allowing a faint smile to cross her face, Kathryn turned her chin to him and whispered, “You are beautiful.”

His strong fingers gripped her shoulders in answer.

She moved quickly to remove the shorts from his ankles, picking them up while straightening to her full height. Then, she organized the shorts in both hands, leaned over and slipped one foot into them. His arms fell from her shoulders and he watched in stunned appreciation as she guided the shorts up her devastatingly shaped legs under her swishing skirts. As the fabric rose and disappeared from view, his skin remembered her touch and it felt the slide on skin as if he was actually joining with her.

Lifting her lids slowly, Kathryn graced him with a most angelic smile. Michael raised a questioning brow for he could not imagine what she would do next.

When she bent to gather his breeches, Michael beamed over her 96

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head, realization dawning that she was going to put his clothes back on!

His mind struggled with indecision. He ached to touch her, pull the pins from her hair, strip the fabric from her breasts, recover his stolen smalls, penetrate, possess…but she was in his study. And he had lost his control so easily yesterday afternoon and last night.

If he took such a risk, by having her here in daylight for anyone to discover them, he could ruin what he wanted from her forever…

As her hands moved the fabric up his legs, his control quaked and he doubled as if in pain. She gasped and stopped, then he grabbed his waistband and tugged the final inches. Kathryn retrieved one boot and eased his foot into it. When he was sure she was determined to see all of his clothes righted, he reached for the other boot and slipped it on for himself, stomped it into place then straightened and worked his shirt back into his waistband.

Kathryn stood again grasped her hands in front of her and locked his gaze. “Thank you. I am much more comfortable now.” Michael’s eyes flared with desire. She drifted dreamily into the deep black pools and had to blink to be sure that she was not mistaking his stance.
He wanted her.

Now.

She could not help herself then from the piece-de-resistance for this magnificent moment. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she trailed her own eyes to the valley of her breasts where the key lay safely hidden, and retrieved it ever so slowly. While he did not release her gaze, she still caught the flex of his hips and pulse of his erection.

She handed him the warm key a brand in his palm from her body heat and he greedily folded his long fingers around the fiery metal. “No, thank
you
,” he whispered. “I am greatly relieved to be rid of the offending garment.” He smiled teasingly at her and she could not help grinning back.

The man’s sharp mind was as sexy as his incredible body. Kathryn knew why women loved to read historical romances—why
she
loved them. These guys were out of this world. On the thought, she turned to the door and started her exit slowly, swaying her hips and sighing like a cat with her cream.

When she reached the knob, Kathryn realized her error, but she was not to worry, he had prowled behind her like a tiger slinking through the jungle. He reached around her to slip the key into place and she shuddered as his arms brushed the sides of her breasts, enclosing her in steel bands, her nose inches from the panels. He edged her back into his massive chest as he eased open the door.

Removing one arm with a gentle sweeping gesture, he showed her 97

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the hall. She felt him inhale at the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. If she turned to look at him, she could not trust herself not to kiss him. Again. So she slipped wordlessly into the hall.

Michael sank back into the chair and closed his eyes. Just four days ago, he had been dreading returning and claiming his place among the Dukes of Asterleigh. Now an improper American for-the-love-of-Pete minx had brought him to life and made this house feel warm and welcoming, his body awakened to a desire he could never have fathomed, while a murderer threatened to strip it all away from him. His tenants already loved this Kathryn, his staff surely did, and he could not imagine his dining room or his study, nay his staircase, or his stables without her.

Even in Catherine’s and Cassandra’s borrowed clothes, she was entirely unique and special. The desolation and emptiness that had kept him away through the winter had been replaced with anticipation and longing.
Desire
. Kathryn was just what he needed. Getting his hands on her permanently would take a well-executed battle plan and he was just the person to help bring her to heel.

“Hallthorpe?…”

* * * *

Kathryn couldn’t catch her breath. That last sensation was still roiling through her body. His skin touching the sides of her breasts, they burned, itched even through the layers of that ridiculous bustier. Or was it a corset? Nonetheless, she felt him even through all of that. She took the stairs two at a time until she realized the staff would not approve, but think she was uncouth. Maybe that wasn’t the word but improper certainly served as a description for a woman running at breakneck speed up the stairs of a fine mansion such as this. It was all a bit of an effort to contain herself after such an unbelievable interlude.