Free Not Quite A Duke (Dukes' Club Book 6) by Eva Devon Page A

his. Allowing her breath to soften and her lips to part.
    “Is that why you were following me?” she asked. “Because of my wonderful depths?”
    “No.”
    “Then why?”
    He hesitated then smiled a slow devil’s smile as he slipped the book he was reading from his coat pocket. “Because I wanted your autograph Mr. Auden.”

Chapter 8
    Charles held his breath, waiting for Lady Patience’s reaction.
    For a long moment, she moved not at all. She merely stood, shocked, her face unreadable even without the mask he had just divested her of. Her stunning body was still languid from the moment before when they’d been about to kiss.
    It had nearly killed him to break the moment. But he didn’t wish to seduce her without her knowing that he knew.
    Good God, he wanted to seduce her. Her mind was brilliant and her body? Her body was divine. He’d suspected it before, but now? Now, he’d seen her in the full regalia of the most fashionable women. He was tempted to get down on his knees again and worship again.
    With her lithe figure in the high-waisted, low cut, flowing-skirted gown, she was heaven. It skimmed her body with the ease of a lover’s touch. And if he used his imagination, he might have sworn he could see every nook and shadow through the thin, yet expensive, gold embroidered, jewel encrusted fabric.
    “Lady Patience?” he prompted, tempted to simply take her in his arms and seize her mouth with his own.
    She licked her ruby painted lips then grabbed the book from his hand. Her suddenly frantic gaze darted over the leather binding and gold leaf title. “You? No. I— You are mistaken, sir.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “Yes, you are,” she countered loudly.
    Her voice grew stronger, more determined.
    “My dear woman, do not dissemble,” he contested gently. “You’re P. Auden.”
    “No.”
    “Yes.”
    “W-what evidence have you?” she sputtered.
    This would be tricky but he knew that in this he had to be truthful. “A manuscript written in your hand that is currently in print.”
    Her lips pressed together and her fluid frame tensed before she let out a rage-filled sound of amazement, “You went through my things?”
    “A sneak remember?” he replied, hoping to diffuse her temper.
    “But only in ladies’ bedrooms!” she protested.
    He gave her an apologetic smile. “Apparently not.”
    “What made you do it?” she demanded, her face as pale as the moon above them.
    “I wished to help you,” he replied honestly.
    That seemed to give her pause but then she retorted, “I didn’t want it. I told you I didn’t want it.”
    “It was arrogant of me, I do realize that now.”
    She groaned.
    “What an arse, I must have sounded,” he said. “Offering to show your work to my publishing friends.”
    She gasped, horror stricken. “That’s what you did. You showed it to someone?”
    “I confess it.”
    She frowned and suddenly poked his chest with her forefinger. “Did you tell them who wrote it?”
    “No.”
    “You swear?” she demanded, poking again.
    “Indeed.”
    “I ought to murder you,” she said, retracting her finger.
    He rubbed his chest where she had prodded so vehemently. “Kiss me, instead,” he said softly.
    She threw up a hand, her other still clutching her book. “Are you mad, Lord Charles?”
    “Very likely. But you wish to.”
    “What?” she prevaricated. It was clear she was in no confusion about what he’d said.
    “Kiss me,” he explained in any case. And then he added, “As I do you.”
    He could see it, her struggle to not deny his words.
    “This is impossible,” she finally said.
    “My discovery of who you are or your desire to kiss me?”
    She scowled. “Both.”
    “Why don’t we make the best of it?” In truth, he still wanted to help her. He was fascinated by her. She was a woman unlike any he had ever met. “Now, I know who you truly are. . . And that your exceptional books come from accurate research. Allow me to assist you.”
    Again, she