An Unlikely Duchess (11 page)

Not trusting herself to speak, she merely nodded, unable to tear her eyes from him.

“Rebecca,” he groaned, sounding as though he were in pain. “Do not look at me like that. I only have so much control.”

“Like what?”

“Like you are remembering our kiss. Like you wish for me to kiss you again.”

She gasped at his bluntness.

“I am not,” she insisted albeit in a whisper.

“Oh but you are. Those eyes, eyes a man could drown in, they give you away.”

Good lord the man was far too charming, far too irresistible.

“You are mistaken, your grace.”

He hadn’t released her and she’d made no attempt to move away. Funny how the grip of one man could strike abject fear into her heart but this man’s touch felt like coming home.

“Let’s see then, shall we?”

Rebecca froze, torn between a desire so strong she could weep and complete panic. Had she not promised herself that she would stay away from him? Had she not told herself over and over of that to harbour dreams about him was futile? Yet here she was, about to be kissed and unable to do anything about it.

She had almost convinced herself that last night had been a fluke. That her reaction had been down to the fact that it had been her first kiss. She knew now, that she was very much mistaken. If anything, she wanted him even more.

His lips descended slowly toward hers and Rebecca closed her eyes in anticipation.

“My lady!”

The shout broke through the haze of longing surrounding them and Rebecca stumbled back, away from his touch.

Once again they stared at each other, neither knowing quite what to say.

“Rebecca,” Edward started to speak but she stopped him with a delicate hand raised.

“Please. Do not.”

“We cannot just—”

“My lady,” the voice was nearer now and within seconds Martin’s head had appeared over the wall.

“You scared the wits out of us, my lady,” he scolded but his grin was firmly in place.

Rebecca smiled in response.

“Ah, but how many times have I had the wits scared out of me, young man? It is only fitting that I should get my own back one day.”

“Mam says to come up to the house. She is back from the village.” Martin blatantly ignored the duke’s presence which gave Rebecca much amusement. She wondered if he’d ever been ignored before and decided that it was very doubtful.

“I shall come directly.”

Martin whistled tunelessly as he made his way back up the garden path to the small cottage where Mrs. O’Dwyer awaited their arrival.

The silence was thick with everything that was unsaid between them.

Rebecca decided the best way to handle it was to ignore it and hope that it went away. This was a method that, admittedly, had never worked in the past. But the alternative was to spend more time in his presence and, honestly, she wasn’t sure how long she could bear that.

“Right then. My thanks again, your grace, for your assistance. Good day to you.”

She turned to leave but he sidestepped swiftly and rather neatly blocked her way.

“Allow me to escort you, my lady.”

She eyed him sceptically.

“Up a garden path?”

“The idea may seem silly but you forget, I’ve seen, twice now, what you get up to when left to your own devices. My conscience will not allow me to leave you unattended. Even if it is only up a garden path.”

She hadn’t liked that,
Edward thought with amusement, as her eyes narrowed menacingly. He was reminded again of the kitten trying to be fierce.

The truth was he knew full well she did not need an escort from one end of a garden to another. But for reasons unknown to him and best left unanalysed, he found himself reluctant to let her go.

He planned to leave at first light tomorrow. Originally he had wanted to be gone today but on reflection it did not seem fair to pay such a disservice to Ranford and his family, he was sure his refusal to marry Lady Caroline would be insult enough without him sneaking off into the night.

No, he would leave first thing tomorrow and as such he knew it unlikely that he would see this lady again, at least not for a while. When she did eventually turn up in Town for a Season he would have himself well under control and would be able to witness the parade of men vying for her affection with equanimity. He
would
.

“Your grace?”

Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you quite well?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“You looked as though you might murder someone just now. And since I am the only person in the vicinity, I wondered if I should fear for my life.”

She really was entirely too outspoken.

He decided to ignore her.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm.

“You haven’t been invited.”

“I will escort you to the door and then take my leave.”

“You cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Because. You will frighten the poor woman to death, that is why!”

Well, that was just rude.
“I beg your pardon?”

“You will scare her, your grace. She is not used to having people like you on her doorstep.”

“People like me?”

“Yes. People like you. You are too rich, too titled, too — too big.”

Too big?
“This from the daughter of an earl?”

“That is different. I grew up here, I’ve known Mrs. O’Dwyer and all the tenants since childhood. They like me.”

“Are you implying that they will not like me?” he demanded, feeling terribly affronted.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow at his tone.
What a brat!
She would appease him then get rid of him.

“I am sure they would think you all that is charming, your grace. However, since you are not escorting me, it is hardly relevant, is it?”

“I am escorting you.”

“No. You are not.”

They stood glaring at each other for several moments. Her with her hands placed firmly at her hips and shooting daggers, him with such a look of smug superiority she wanted to smack him.

“My lady.”

Their standoff came to a halt with the appearance of Martin.

“Mam says you must bring the gentleman with you before you both grow roots.”

“Ha! There you have it. I am invited.”

Rebecca could only shake her head and wonder at his delight in being invited into a country cottage. He who had graced the halls of royal families and fellow peers all over Europe. His delight came, she was sure, from besting her and not for any real desire to spend time with the O’Dwyers.

She hoped that he would treat them as equals and with respect. She had a genuine friendship with this family and would allow nobody to be rude to them.

He extended his arm, grinning triumphantly. Rebecca felt the breath catch in her throat. He was really almost unbearably handsome.

They began to walk further along the path to the gate leading into Mrs. O’Dwyer’s garden.

What would it be like to be married to him? Have him belong to her and her alone? Spend every day with him. And every night, she thought wickedly.

“Are you well, Rebecca? You seem rather flushed.” He sounded amused and she blushed even more fiercely. Damn the man! She could not be married to him! She’d murder him within twenty-four hours!

“I am quite well, your grace. Though apparently I am suffering an affliction of memory loss since I do not remember giving you permission to use my name.”

He gave a shout of laughter at this.

“You really are quite the shrew aren’t you? But you are right, you have not given me leave to use your name. I had thought, however, that we had come to know each other well enough to forgo the formalities. After all, a lady should at the very least be on a first name basis with the man who gave her her first kiss, should she not?”

Rebecca blushed to the roots of her hair and pulled her arm from him. He was an arrogant, odious brute. How could he speak of that in such a casual manner? And mock her about it to boot?

Well, she would put him firmly in his place once and for all. How could she have dreamt of marrying such a creature? Her husband would be the complete opposite of him— humble and kind and not so overwhelming that she could not think straight when he was near.

Rather than slap him or stomp off, which she was very tempted to do, Rebecca looked steadily into his eyes with what she hoped was a patronizing expression on her face.

“My first kiss, your grace? How sweet that you should think so. You are quite mistaken I am afraid. But do not worry yourself, you did very well.” She patted his arm reassuringly and turned to continue up the path. Let him stew on that for a while! It
had
been her first kiss, but he did not need to know that and his pride could stand to be a little dented.

Edward stood encased in a burning fury as she stalked off up the garden path, her pretty little nose stuck in the air.

Rage coursed through him, making him think he was going quite mad. He’d been enjoying embarrassing her, knew that she must yearn for his kiss again as he yearned for hers. Had thought to curb some of that impertinence that seemed to come so naturally to her.

Now, however, he found himself bested by her. Eaten up with a jealous rage the likes of which he’d never felt before. Who the hell had she been kissing? How dare she go around kissing everyone!

And to imply that he had somehow failed to impress? Well, he thought huffily, that at least could not be true. He prided himself on his seduction techniques. Was really quite famous for them. He just hadn’t been trying with her that is all.

He knew he was behaving like a slighted debutante and angrily clamped down on his roaming and ridiculous thoughts.

It was of no matter. It did not mean anything anyway. But he knew she was just as affected by their kiss, by his proximity as he was hers.

He slowly followed her and thought back to last night. He believed she was bluffing. Her kiss might have set him on fire but it had been the kiss of an innocent and if her initial hesitancy did not tell him that, the look of shock afterwards would have done.

No, she was most definitely bluffing. She had been kissed by none but him.

And he was an excellent kisser.

Feeling mollified, he increased his pace to catch up to her. She was captivating. He found his eyes once more drawn to the sway of her hips, the exposed skin of her neck. He wondered if her skin there was as silky soft as the skin of her shoulders. He longed to find out. But knew that he could not.

How he had controlled himself when he was assisting her off that wall he would never know. He was stronger than he thought but his control was within an inch of snapping. Her back pressed against his front was an exquisite torture he would never forget.

She had smelled divine, her glorious hair had been hidden by her bonnet but the scent of lemon still tingled his nostrils. He made a mental note to have buckets of lemons all over his homes.

He’d been about to kiss her again when the lad had interrupted them. And she had been willing. This could not go on! The sooner he returned to England and away from temptation, the better.

He had intended to ride straight back and speak to the earl immediately. But the idea of spending more time in the company of the delectable Lady Rebecca was a temptation he could not refuse.

He caught up to her just before she entered the cottage. The smell of freshly baked biscuits floated on the summer breeze and Edward suddenly regretted the tantrum that had seen him leave his breakfast untouched.

He bowed slightly to allow her to pass him and enter the cottage but rather than move, Rebecca placed her hand gently on his arm. His eyes snapped to hers at the touch. She was gazing pleadingly at him with those blasted eyes once again and he felt his control slipping.

No wonder she was spoiled. How was anyone to refuse her anything when she looked at them like that? Likely the lady had the whole of Offaly firmly wrapped around her tiny finger.

“Your grace,” Rebecca spoke quietly, obviously not wanting to be overheard.

“What is it Rebecca?” He had purposely used her given name again but she was obviously too distracted to notice.

She began to worry her bottom lip just like last night and Edward could not stifle a groan of longing. Did she know what she did to him?

Probably not. Which made it all the more tempting.

“My lady, what is it that you want from me? You only need ask.” He spoke hoarsely, his voice belying his desperation. If she did not speak or move soon she would find herself thoroughly compromised, right here on the doorstep of this workman’s cottage.

“These people, the O’Dwyers, they’re my friends. I have the utmost respect and affection for them.” She paused and Edward wondered why he was telling him this. It was clear from her interaction with the boy that there was a longstanding friendship between the family and her.

“Although I am of noble birth, Mr. Mrs. O’Dwyer have known me since I was a babe and therefore, feel entirely comfortable and able to be themselves around me. I am — that is, I would appreciate if you did not act terribly — er — dukey around them.”

“Dukey?”

“Yes.”

“Is that a word?”

She huffed out a sigh and glared at him.

“Just do not be yourself.”

Lovely.
“Then who should I be?” he asked mildly.

“Oh never mind,” she spat then brushed by him.

He wondered idly how many moods she actually possessed, since he’d witnessed about seven since his arrival.

If Rebecca had but waited a moment, he would have reassured her to the absolute best of his ability. A duke he may be, but he knew and spent time with all of his tenants, particularly at his main seat, and had spent hundreds of happy hours with those excellent families in his youth.

Well, she would see for herself shortly, he thought as he entered the home. Maybe he’d surprise her.

CHAPTER NINE

The cottage was as warm and comforting as ever and Rebecca felt herself relax as she was embraced in a warm hug.

Mrs. O’Dwyer was like a beloved aunt to her and Rebecca made herself right at home, sitting herself at the much-used, well-scrubbed kitchen table. No standing on ceremony here! If the duke did not like it, well he could leave!