Free The Duchess Diaries: The Bridal Pleasures Series by Jillian Hunter Page B

lips parted, and his kiss led her into darkness, lured her toward…what? She didn’t know. But he did. Her head fell back against his hand. His tongue delved into her mouth and he kissed her until shivering pleasure seeped into her bones. Her pulse soared. Her blood roared. She drifted, weightless, into her first encounter with decadence.
    “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice harsh, his mouth a maddening breath from hers.
    “I— Yes…”
    “But I want more.”
    He pressed her back, her shoulder sinking between the cushions. For a moment he didn’t move. His hooded eyes claimed victory, branded her with heat too intense to bear. She felt it race through her veins and to her fingertips.
    He bent over her, his body hard, aroused, every inch a hot-blooded male. He brought his hand up slowly to sculpt the shape of her breasts. A sweet pain pierced her. She arched her back.
    “I could carry you back upstairs to my bedroom—”
    “
No.
I can’t. You can’t.”
    A merciless smile spread across his shadowed face. His hand stroked upward to the front of her gown.
    “We can’t do this,” she whispered, lifting her hand to his chest.
    “Why not?” he asked softly. “We did it in your diary, which implies consent, if not an engraved invitation. Of course, I was not consulted. But I can’t imagine I would have denied you if you’d asked.”
    “I didn’t break into your house to strike up a liaison,” she said indignantly, staring up into his sardonic face.
    “But you did break in, and you’re in my arms. Do you know that property is nine points of the law?”
    “Property?” she said, pushing herself upright.
    “Would you like a brandy?”
    “Yes,” she said, even though brandy usually went right to her head.
    “I think I could use one myself.”
    Harriet stood at the door to the study, unable to believe her eyes. She recognized the duke right away. But who was the long-haired lady he was leaning over and kissing with such wanton disregard that neither of them knew they had an audience?
    Oh, God. Charlotte.
It couldn’t be. Yet it had to be.
    She backed away.
    What should she do?
    She couldn’t let Charlotte be ruined.
    But then again, she couldn’t let her lose the man she desired. And Wynfield obviously desired her, although how a harmless fancy had become a ruinous interlude the moment Harriet turned her back was a mystery to be pondered later.
    Here she’d been afraid that Charlotte had accidentally locked herself in a closet, when she’d actually beenlocked in the duke’s embrace, acting out one of the alleged entries in the diary that had started this affair.
    She looked so defenseless sitting on that sofa clutching her fan that Gideon’s protective instincts overpowered his basic nature. He felt like a bastard for calling her bluff. “How long have you been keeping your diary?”
    “Diaries. Ever since I learned to write.”
    He took a swallow of brandy. “Were you always so inventive?”
    “I embellished the truth in a few places. I wanted to write my life as a fairy tale. I never intended for anyone else to read it. It’s not all fabricated.”
    “Fabricated? Embellished? My angel of mischief, not even the names were changed to protect the guilty. But
I
have to admit I’m curious—how long have we been engaged in this affair?”
    “A year,” she whispered, sighing over the top of her fan.
    His eyebrows shot up. “All that time and you never told me? Where exactly did it start?”
    “At a circulating library,” she confessed with a smile.
    He smiled back and pried the empty glass from her hand. “I wish I’d known. At the very least I would have sent you flowers to commemorate our anniversary.”
    She laughed, and so did he. He had to admit this was a unique predicament, and he was flattered that she had found him desirable.
    “You didn’t even know I existed until this evening, and then it took Devon to push you in my direction.”
    “You’re wrong. I remember