The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) (25 page)
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Authors: Kate McKinley
Tags: #Historical Romance
She’d make a magnificent duchess.
Their children would be willful like their mother, no doubt, but that could be managed with the proper guidance—and an army of nurses, governesses, and servants.
Reaching out, he skimmed a finger down her pearl-white cheek. She flinched and took a step backward, almost tripping in her haste to escape him. He caught her easily, one hand curled around her upper arm. A tiny gasp escaped her moist, petal-pink lips.
“Release me.” She eyed him boldly. “Right this instant.”
Lucas chuckled and released her arm just as she snatched it away dramatically. “We are engaged. Surely that affords me some liberties, however few.”
A bleak, regrettable few.
Fury sparked in those sharp green eyes. “We are not engaged.”
Lucas shrugged. “You’re mine, Miss Welby, and the sooner you realize that, the faster we can end this tedious game of cat and mouse.”
Too much depended on her marrying him. Everything Lucas had worked so hard for his entire life rested on this.
If he were being cruel, he could say she’d brought it upon herself. The moment her eyes caught his at the Tisdale ball had led her to this very moment. She had no one to blame but herself.
“Why?”
“Because I wish it.”
“Why marry me when you could have any woman you please?”
“That’s precisely it, Miss Welby. I can marry whomever I please. I am not bound, as some men are, to marry for wealth or position.”
“I was born into trade. You were born into nobility. There were never two creatures more dissimilar.” She swallowed. “Think of your future children. Their mother would be the daughter of a tradesman.”
“Yes.” She still wore her bonnet. He reached out, took the thick, blue ribbon beneath her chin, and tugged. The delicate bow unraveled easily, and as the ribbons fell away, she drew in a sharp breath. “But their father would come from a long line of noble blood. It all evens out, you see.”
Indeed, there was an additional benefit to matrimony, after all. He needed an heir, and Miss Welby could provide him with one. Quite handily, he imagined.
She glared. “Then it must be the money. It’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve gambled your fortune away, and you need a wealthy wife to fund your extravagances.”
He toyed with the end of her ribbon. “Wrong again. I don’t need your fortune, and I told your father as much yesterday. He can keep the money. All I require is
you
.”
Genuine astonishment swept across her face, but to her credit, she didn’t pull away, didn’t move. She was as still as marble, the pulse at the base of her throat the only trace of movement. His own heart kicked up a notch as he swept the ribbons aside and exposed the gentle curve of her jaw.
With his forefinger, he gently traced the curve, keenly aware of her breath coming in quick, uneven bursts. Her skin was soft, smooth like silk beneath his fingertips, and he imagined all the different ways he would taste her…
She wanted to flee—he could see it in the way she looked at him, shocked and slightly confused. But she didn’t. Was it curiosity holding her in place, or a deep, elemental need to feel his touch?
He wondered idly how far he could push her until she either surrendered or pulled away. Brushing his finger up the line of her jaw to the lobe of her ear, he caressed it gently. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch, then snapped open instantly, as though realizing she’d succumbed, even for just a moment.
Trailing his hand up, he caught her bonnet and tugged it off her head. Her eyes widened and she lunged for the bonnet, which he held up, out of her reach. “That’s mine. Give it back, if you please.” The last was said through gritted teeth, as though it cost her everything to remain civil.
He tossed it onto the white settee behind him, and then turned back to her. Her eyes sparked with defiance. “I know what you are about, Your Grace, and I will not be intimidated. I’m far too smart to be seduced by the likes of you.”
Ah, so that was the way of it. Determined not to be seduced, was she?
Innocent, untried debutantes were not his usual fare, but he found her continued protests intriguing. He wanted to know what impelled her, what inspired her, what tempted her?
He smiled. Perhaps he should find out.
She wore a pale blue pelisse that buttoned down the front, white flowers embroidered along the hem. He reached out and unfastened the first button at the base of her neck. Her eyes fluttered up to meet his.
What he saw reflected in those deep green pools made his breath catch. She wanted him. It was unmistakable. Just the thought sent hot, violent need rushing through his veins.
A faint gasp came from the other side of the room, where Miss Welby’s maid stood, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. “Miss?”
Miss Welby spoke without taking her eyes off Lucas. “It’s all right, Rose. He does not affect me in the least.”
He chuckled. A good, honorable man would leave it at that. His father had been a good man, so generous and altruistic he’d slowly depleted the family estate until he’d rendered the family destitute. It had taken years for Lucas to rebuild the family fortune—to restore his family’s legacy. And in that time, he’d learned one important lesson: good men were trampled, used, and discarded. Good men were left vulnerable and powerless.
Lucas was not a good man.
“Is that so, Miss Welby?” He arched a brow. “Very well. Prove it.”
“Happily,” she said with confidence. “And when I do, what will be my prize?”
“You won’t win.”
“How about…” She tapped a finger on her chin, thinking up ways to torment him, no doubt. “I win, and you promise not to send the invitations.”
She wouldn’t win, of course. The legend of his seductive skill was…well, legendary. There wasn’t a woman this side of London who’d ever refused his advances—unless one counted Miss Welby, which he certainly did not. She was clearly an anomaly.
He smirked. “Done.”
Without turning, she said, “Rose, wait outside for a moment, will you?”
The maid bobbed a curtsey and slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind her. At last, they were alone, and he wasted no time.
Reaching out, he unhooked the second, third, then fourth button, revealing the thin, transparent material that concealed the tops of her breasts. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as he continued with the fifth, sixth, seventh buttons. He imagined all the garments he would strip away on their wedding night, until every lush, feminine curve was bared to his hungry gaze. Until she was naked beneath him, her fiery red curls fanned out around her.
Just the thought heated his blood.
When the last button was undone, the pelisse gaped open, revealing Miss Welby’s ripe, curvaceous form. There was the pesky matter of her morning gown, stays, and chemise, of course, but all of that could be remedied easily enough. An easy compliment, a flick of the wrist, and they’d be pooled at her feet before she could draw a breath.
Smoothing his hands around her waist, he tugged her flush with his body. She was warm, supple, and fit against him perfectly. White-hot desire licked at him from the inside as he pressed himself more firmly against her.
She drew in a long, uneven breath and her eyes darted up to meet his.
Lowering his head, he touched his lips to hers. Gently, he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue inside. She opened herself up to him, allowed him to take control as he slowly, deliberately, deepened the kiss.
Time halted, slipped away as he lost himself in the hot, honey-sweet taste of her mouth. The warmth of her body pressed to his, the feel of her hands skimming up his back, groping for purchase, ignited something within him. Want. Desire. Passion.
Everything centered on her, on them, on this moment.
Placing a hand on his chest, she pulled back. Lucas let her, his hands still encircling her waist, reluctant to let her go. In the end, he did, dropping his hands at his sides.
What in God’s name was that? Innocent, prudish Miss Welby kissed like a goddamn siren! His hands trembled as he raked them down his face. Christ, he’d never been so shaken by anything in his life—and certainly not over something as trivial as a kiss.
But that wasn’t just a kiss. It was something else entirely. Something remarkably powerful.
“Well,” Miss Welby said, astonishingly composed. She patted her hair, then began buttoning up her pelisse. “That was certainly interesting. But it in no way alters my decision.”
Lucas raked a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. Panic was settling in. What he assumed was panic, in any event. He had little experience with the emotion. “Tell me you felt that.”
“Quite,” she said. “It was lovely.”
Lovely? His entire world had shifted off kilter, and she thought it was lovely. Good God, what was happening to him? Somehow, he’d stepped back in time, to his awkward, flailing youth when just a look from a female could set his desire ablaze.
The notion was unsettling, to say the least.
Once her pelisse was buttoned up, she sidled up next to him and placed one delicate hand on his chest. She looked alluring, freshly kissed, ready for passion. “Tell me, do I tempt you, Your Grace?”
There was no use denying it. The evidence of his arousal strained against his falls for all, including and especially Miss Welby, to see.
“Thoroughly.”
A slow smile spread across her lips. She kissed the tip of her finger and pressed it to his mouth.
“I win.” She turned, opened the door, and addressed the maids who were waiting just outside his study. “Come, girls. We’re done here.”
And with that, she and her flock were gone.
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Also by Kate McKinley
What Happens in Scotland Series
How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days
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So I Married a Highlander
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The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl
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By Invitation Only Series
A Duchess in the Dark
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A Countess by Chance
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A Night with the Bride
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The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl
Kate McKinley
Copyright © Kate McKinley 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by The Killion Group
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights
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