Free What the Duke Wants by Kristin Vayden Page A

wanted to kiss her in that precise spot.
    “You can’t avoid me forever.” Charles spoke in a low and seductive whisper. Wincing inwardly at how the words should be aimed at him.
    “I’m not avoiding you.” She gave him a sidelong glance.
    “Oh?”
    “No, I was… wondering.”
    “About what? Or whom, perhaps?”
    “Do you have siblings, your grace?” Carlotta turned the full power of her gaze to him. It was stunning. Her green eyes had flicks of yellow in them that almost appeared gold.
    “Your grace?”
    “No. No siblings. Not for want of trying on my parent’s part, however,” he added, though as he spoke the words he wondered why he had thought that information was important.
    “Oh. Nor do I…” Her gaze traveled back down the hall where Berty had disappeared.
    “You suspect something,” he stated.
    “Yes. But I haven’t a clue as to what. Which, I’ll admit, makes me slightly nervous.”
    “There are three of them.” Charles nodded. “And all quite intelligent. I shudder to think what they might be planning.”
    “You and I both. I’ll have to keep a keen eye on them.”
    “As opposed to?” Charles couldn’t help but grin.
    “As opposed to giving them any chance to… interfere with the lives of others.”
    “Sounds utterly wise.”
    “I rather thought you’d agree.” She turned back, flashing a saucy grin. But as soon as the alluring expression crossed her features, she withdrew it, shuttering her expression into a polite mask.
    Charles wanted the saucy expression back. He wanted to see the merriment dancing in her eyes, hear the dry whit of her humor and see the way her cheeks squinted her eyes slightly when she smiled.
    “Carlotta, I…” he began, not quite sure what he had intended to say.
    “There’s no need, your grace.” She offered him a damnably polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes and quickly glanced down at the polished floor.
    Charles opened his mouth, intending to say… something but words failed him. He rather wanted to show her what he meant, but knew that would be disaster. He could not kiss her again.
    Ever.
    Ever, ever, ever.
    But oh, he wanted to.
    He was sure that a kiss to that delicate spot he was lusting over earlier would surely break through the miserably shuttered expression in her eyes. He was sure that he could coax more than a polite ‘your grace’ from her lips. At once he wanted to hear her voice whisper his name. Not ‘Clairmont’, not ‘your grace’, but his actual name. Charles.
    She lifted her head, her eyes slowly trailing her movement till they met his. With a small gasp, her eyes widened and she stepped back.
    “Good evening, your grace.” She curtsied and all but fled.
    As her footsteps echoed in the hall, he felt cold and empty. As if the fire he was standing in front of had suddenly been smothered. The emptiness was gnawing at him. He felt like a coward for not saying anything about their kiss, but he didn’t know how to go about it. If she were more than a servant, more than a governess, there might have been a chance.
    But she wasn’t.
    And he wasn’t the type of man to marry, at least yet. Or so he reminded himself. Strange how he always forgot that piece of information whenever she was around.
    Closing his eyes he remembered her expression just before she fled to the safety of her room. She’d had the wide-eyed expression of a woman running from ruin, from certain danger.
    W hich meant he was the threat, the danger.
    That thought didn’t set well with him at all. It also meant that she had quite accurately read his thoughts, though they likely had been quite apparent in his expression. An innocent wouldn’t know how to discern be tween lust and desire. Few knew that there even was a difference.
    Lust was shallower, fleeting and purely selfish; a burn that flashed rather than smoldered. Whereas desire, it was a slower burn that tended to flare up at times, but never truly burn out. Desire required one to think about