Kiss Me, Kate

Kate Farrow doesn’t care what anybody thinks.

Her own mother ran off with a lover when Kate was just a young girl.  Now her father has a different fate in store for her with his heart set on a union with the loathsome Duke of Westmoore. Still, how can she—a beautiful, proper, London-society woman—just pick up and run off with George Langsley? Too handsome for his own good, and a well-known rake to boot, he is surely not marriage material for Kate. But George ignites a passion in her that she cannot deny. Is her desire worth the risk?

KISS ME, KATE
by Tiffany Clare

Chapter 1
London, 1824

“What do you think you are doing, George!” The admonishment Kate Farrow hoped to display was lost when a giggle emerged.

George edged them both off the garden path and away from the other guests admiring the rose blooms in the vast gardens surrounding them. His hands were light about her hips as he guided her in the exact direction he wanted to go. There was a fire burning in his dark brown eyes and an added intensity in his expression; his jaw was squared and his resolve to herd her away from the party could not be mistaken. Because she was so tall for a woman, he stood only a few inches above her, which made it easy to reach out and touch him. His face was smooth-shaven, his skin darker from spending time in the sun, strands of blond streaked through his normally light brown hair. He didn’t rush her backward steps as she silently greeted him with her hands, but his body braced around hers should she stumble on the dark path.

“What’s come over you?” she asked quietly, in case anyone was nearby.

“You, darling.” With his hands on either side of her face, he pressed his lips to hers. She sank into that touch with all the desperation that had built inside her since his absence. “It’s been far too long since we saw each other, Kate.”

“You’ve gone mad.”

Though should she admit it, she’d gone a little mad in his absence, too. They were so utterly in love with each other that it was as though a form of insanity had ensnared them.

Kate slipped out of his grasp and ran farther into the hedging dotting the back gardens of the property. If they were going to steal away for a few moments, they might as well ensure they were completely alone. George had shipped out to the West Indies four months ago, and she felt selfish enough to occupy all his attention this evening, even if he’d only just arrived home this afternoon.

George didn’t let her escape far; he caught her under an ivy-covered arbor that shaded them like they were in a private grotto. He clasped her hand and spun her around before catching her in his arms once again. This time when his mouth descended upon hers, it was more demanding than the innocent touching of lips they’d just shared.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said as their lips parted and her tongue darted out to taste him.

“Come away from London with me, Kate.” George brought one hand around her back to pull her closer. She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart. “I can’t wait a moment longer to have you for my own.”

“You know I can’t do any such thing.” She had insisted on a proper proposal and engagement because it was a well-known fact that her mother had run off with her lover when Kate was a young girl. “It would break my father’s heart if I followed in my mother’s footsteps.”

“You are a far cry from repeating your mother’s mistakes. This is different. What can I do to convince you of that?” George ran his hand down the length of her back, causing a shiver of excitement and contentment to run through her whole body. “Besides, I won’t stand for you marrying that pompous ass Westmoore.”

She raised her head and gave him a brazen grin. “I think you’re jealous, George.”

“Hell yes.”

When his voice carried around them, she covered it with her hand to silence him. His lips puckered beneath her fingers before she pulled her hand away, stepped up onto the tips of her toes, and waited for him to lay claim to her lips again. George’s arms came around her and crushed their bodies tightly together.

He broke away and said, “I should compromise you so that you have no choice but to marry me without delay.”

She lightly traced the tip of her finger over his chin. “Speak to my father again. Insist you will not take no for an answer.”

“Your father would never agree to an alliance between our families. He’s always thought the Carletons a filthy sort with our heavy ties in trade.”

“My father has always been a stickler for the rules of society. The thing my father most likes about Westmoore is that his lands are rich. He’s never had to worry about keeping his estates running not even when everyone else’s funds dried up during the Regent’s time.” Kate sighed heavily and settled back on the flat of her feet. “My father has had his heart set on a union with the Duke of Westmoore since I debuted and you made your intention clear to court me.”

“Dearest—” George cupped his palms against her cheeks. “—don’t look glum. I’ll find a way to convince him that we are meant to marry, if that is what you want.”

That was exactly what she’d always wanted. Right now, however, she wanted to revel in the strong feel of him for the rest of the night, but their reunion would have to come to an end soon, lest she be missed from the party.

“We shouldn’t be having so hopeless a conversation when you came directly to see me upon your arrival home.”

“Where else would I go? I’ve thought of nothing and no one but you since the day I left.” His hand wandered from her hip to her rear. “Now, let me have another taste of what I’ve missed so much.”

She shoved playfully at his chest. “You’re a rogue, George Langsley.”

“It must run in the Carleton bloodlines, right beside our insatiable need for adventure and tinkering in trade. It’s a good thing we fight for and win what we want most in life.” He cocked both eyebrows. “I’ve missed you, darling. I dreamed about you every moment I was awake, and in my dreams . . . if only I could tell you all the wickedness you committed while I slept.”

She fisted the edge of his jacket and gave him a sultry look. “And what of my dreams?”

Their lips meshed and both were breathing heavily as though they’d exerted themselves by a mere kiss.

“You’ll have us caught if we don’t get back to the party soon.”

“Would that be so terrible? We’ve wanted marriage for years, Kate.”

She narrowed her eyes. “As I recall it, you saw me as a little girl until my debut into society at eighteen.”

“Actually . . .”

She looked up at him, her gaze coy and playful. “This isn’t the way to win my hand, as you well know.”

He chuckled. “I’ll see your father on the morrow, but it’s been months since I’ve had you in my arms, and I plan on kissing you a great deal longer than I’ve had the opportunity to do thus far.”

Kate’s toes sank into the soft, dew-dampened soil. “What if I say you haven’t yet earned another kiss?”

“Then I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

“Anything?” She took a step away from him. With a smile and her hands folded in front of her, she said, “Ask my father tonight. Do whatever it takes for him to agree to your suit.”

He was quiet for some moments before tipping her chin up. “If I agree, will you let me kiss you again?”

Kate gave him a measuring look. “Promise me. I need your word, George. We’ve played this
courting
game for too long.”

“Only because we’ve known each other half our lives.”

She took his hand, clasping it between them. “And just think, had you not fallen out of one of my father’s trees and broken your arm, we may never have met.”

“I fell only because you startled me when you yelled for me to come down.”

“I was ten—you can’t fault me.”

“And I was but twelve.” He ran his finger over the side of her cheek. “You bewitched me even then.”

She nearly pressed forward for another kiss when she recalled he hadn’t made his promise yet. “Your word, good sir.” She twirled out of his reach, intending to head back to the party and leave him behind if he wouldn’t give her the answer she desired to hear most.

He grabbed her hand before she could escape his reach. “I
will
go to your father this evening. He’ll not refuse my suit again. Now, kiss me, my darling.”

Her “maybe” was garbled as their lips met. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he bent her back over his arm. She never wanted to let go.

There hadn’t been a day since George left that she’d not tried to convince her father how poorly she and Westmoore suited; the man was nearly fifteen years her senior and cared more for his fleet of foxhounds than he did for her. Goodness, Westmoore hadn’t once asked her a personal question in the three years they’d courted. Though courting wasn’t what she would call their outings; the duke took her out three times weekly in his open barouche—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday—at precisely two in the afternoon each of those days, and they never conversed about anything beyond the weather . . . and hunting, because he really did love his foxhounds. Certainly there was a woman for Westmoore, but that woman was not her.

Kate could never say yes to marriage to a man who didn’t hold her heart in his hands.

Her fingers threaded through the thick waves of George’s hair.

Unhurriedly, George pulled back from the kiss and took her hands in his as he stepped away. Kate opened her eyes in slow increments. The past few months had felt like an eternity, but her heart had never wavered—not even for a moment.

“What have you done to amuse yourself while I’ve been away?”

They turned down the path, wending their way deeper into the gardens even though they should return to the house party.

“I’ve been a shadow of myself. And a dreadful bore to anyone who wants to spend an afternoon at tea with me.”

“I doubt that. You are too happy a nature to ever find yourself in the doldrums.”

She furrowed her brow, recalling how awful the months had been with him so far away. “I immensely disliked every moment you were away. Tell me about your travels, they must be far more exciting than London before the season when hardly any gossip has had the opportunity to spring up.”

“It was terribly hot.”

Her shoulder bumped into his arm. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better about your absence.”

“I’ll take you to Barbados when you are my wife. It’s much different from England. Life moves a little slower, which might account to the warmer weather. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it a little. We stayed only long enough to get the estate in order and then we were at sea again. The journey home felt longer than the trip there. I counted down the days till I was back by your side.”

They sat on a long stone bench that overlooked the rolling hills around the house. She pressed right up against his side and leaned her head against his shoulder. He clasped both her hands in his and rested his head atop hers.

“Once I’ve made my rounds here, I’ll go directly to see your father.”

“What if he should say no again?” Because it was a possibility, even though she’d talked of nothing but George’s return, much to her father’s chagrin.

“Then I’ll keep asking. I won’t let this rest.”

“Your perseverance is charming.”

“Charming, am I?” He released one of her hands and faced her. “I am going to have to kiss you more thoroughly than before.”

“You won’t hear a single complaint from me.” Her lips parted in anticipation.

“Only because you’ll not be able to speak for some minutes.” 

As his arms came around her, his mouth claimed hers. She truly hoped her father would give his blessing to their union; otherwise, their roles would reverse, and she’d be the one asking George to run away. She moaned against his lips, knowing that the prospect of eloping would delight him beyond reason. She’d keep that to herself for the time being. She enjoyed the game of wooing and relished it even more when he persistently sought out her father for her hand in marriage. There was something incredibly romantic about his persistence and unwavering desire to have her as his own.