Free The Scandalous Love of a Duke by Jane Lark Page B

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    “Katherine,” he stated, in a deep warm pitch, reminding her they were not strangers.
    She blushed intensely, but John had let her vicar know he was not the only one who had permission to call her by her given name. But then she had never actually given John permission, he had assumed the right based on their childhood friendship.
    He turned to the vicar. “Reverend Barker.”
    Then he left.
    ~
    It had been three days since John had felt Katherine’s kiss slip into complete abandon in the chancel chapel. Since then his mind had been full of her.
    Oh but that was a lie, his mind had been full of her since the funeral, only now it was becoming even more of an obsession.
    His whole body ached with need for her and at night she occupied his dreams.
    It irritated him immensely whenever he thought of her with her Godly priest.
    She had kissed John back in the church and admitted she had wanted him to kiss her in the road. She could not therefore wish for a pious bloody vicar. John strode on along Maidstone’s pavement and shoved his thoughts of Kate aside. He had a job to do. He’d scoured the accounts and found nothing unusual so now he was resorting to asking Pembroke Place’s suppliers about Wareham’s business practices.
    He’d also visited tenants over the last two days and asked them if they’d had any problems with the management of their tenancies. No one had complained.
    As John walked, he received bows and curtsies in acknowledgement. He nodded at the people noting his presence, though his now habitual
lack of
patience was wearing thin. He knew why his grandfather had never walked anywhere. John set his jaw and kept going. But then his gaze alighted on one person he was pleased to see.
    Warmth and light suddenly swept into the cold, arid darkness inside him.
    Katherine!
He shouted her name, though not aloud.
    She was on the far side of the street, standing outside a hat shop, looking in through the window. She held a pile of parcels.
    A primal hunger roared inside him.
    Her profile was perfect and dainty, with her round-tipped nose, and her rose-coloured lips were slightly parted. He imagined her in a black silhouette portrait, as they’d cut images in Naples. He crossed the cobbled street, now entirely ignoring other passers-by.
    “Katherine.” He took the last step and touched her elbow.
    She started and spun around, her eyes wide. “Y-your Grace.”
    “It seems I surprise you every time,” he whispered.
    She was blushing again.
    “I-I’m sorry.”
    He looked to where she had been looking and saw a pretty bonnet dressed with ornamental cherries and a cerise pink ribbon. Mary thought the mode for fruit on a bonnet absurd. Katherine obviously did not.
    “Your Grace?
”
he queried. “If the vicar is Richard, Katherine, I think I might remain, John, privately? We have known each other years?” Her wide turquoise blue eyes stared back, but she said nothing. “What is going on between the two of you anyway?” The question had been rattling about in John’s head for days.
    “N-nothing, I…” She did not continue.
    “Nothing? He drives you home every Sunday? Have you an agreement with him?”
    “An agreement?” Her eyes kept glancing beyond him, into the shop.
    “Are you promised to him?”
    She turned a deeper pink. “
No.
”
    He suddenly remembered she was holding packets and took them from her.
    Where was her groom or maid? Phillip’s family were not high society but nor were they low. Her father was the local squire.
    “Who is with you?” The question probably sounded impertinent. He was still angry over the bloody vicar.
    “My mother is in the shop.” She looked embarrassed. She had not been embarrassed with her vicar. John wished she’d feel as comfortable with him.
    He glanced through the shop window and saw her mother, and her younger sister, sifting through a drawer of ribbons. Why was she not in the shop with them?
    “You are not shopping?” She flushed bright red, but