Free The Duke and the Lady in Red by Lorraine Heath

meet.
    With a little nudge she urged her horse forward. Avendale—­she could not think of him as Whit or even Benjamin as his title suited him much better—­brought his horse round so it could plod along beside hers.
    â€œHow long will you be in London?” he asked.
    She looked at him askance. “I intend to make it my home. I have found much here that . . . appeals to me.” With any other man, the last sentence would have been a lie, spoken merely to give him reason to preen. But Avendale was not one for preening, and speaking honestly about her attraction to him served her purpose.
    â€œI prefer you not stroke me with words, but with your hands.” He leaned over so far that she was surprised he didn’t topple from the saddle. “Or your mouth.”
    She was quite certain she turned as red as her favorite evening gown. “You do take liberties with your innuendoes.” She wondered why she sounded so breathless, as though she were galloping over the green.
    â€œYou’re not untouched. I see no reason to mince words or to pretend that I want anything other than what I do.”
    â€œJust because I’m no longer virginal does not mean that I don’t deserve to be wooed. I require affection.”
    â€œI assure you that you won’t find yourself noticing any lack of affection.”
    Those heated eyes again, the promise of passion that she feared would leave her scalded for life.
    â€œLet’s stroll, shall we?” he asked.
    Stroll? Did he truly believe that her legs could support her after the way he looked at her, the words he uttered? She didn’t want to be so affected by him. It muddled her thinking. On the other hand, perhaps being nearer to him would muddle his.
    â€œYes, that would be delightful.” At least her breath had recovered, and she sounded more like herself.
    As he drew his horse to a halt, she did the same with hers, then watched in fascination as he swung his leg back and dismounted. Why did every movement of his, no matter how common or small, have to intrigue her? He could hold her attention for hours by doing nothing more than taking in breaths. It was utterly ridiculous that he should have a claim over her senses.
    He came to stand before her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Such large hands, such capable ones. Hands that could effectively close around her throat and stop all breath from entering her body should he discover her plans, should they fill him with rage. She should have chosen a smaller man, but the truth was that she’d had little choice once he’d approached her, once she’d lured him in.
    He wanted her now, and she knew he was not one to turn his back until he’d gained what he wanted.
    Which was the reason she momentarily considered facing his wrath, because what he wanted, she would not give. She’d done a good many things in her life, a good many that brought her no pride, but she had managed to do what she needed without spreading her legs to obtain what she wanted . She was every bit as determined to gain what she coveted as he was.
    Although the advantage was all hers. She knew the true game being played, the rules. While he was engaged in another sort of sport. The trick was to ensure that he didn’t realize they weren’t on the same playing field until she’d already won.
    Dropping her gaze to his luscious lips, she thought of their previous kisses, knew visions of them were enough to flush her skin, cause her eyes to become molten blue. She knew a moment of satisfaction as she saw him swallow, felt his hands tighten on her. She placed her gloved hands on his shoulders, relished the strength there, even as it caused trepidation to slice through her.
    Slowly, so slowly, he lifted her up, lifted her off, lowered her feet to the ground, bringing her in close so her breasts skimmed along his chest. Her nipples puckered painfully, her heart pounded, her stomach