Free What a Duke Wants by Lavinia Kent Page A

precisely, but contented. You are right, a man does want more, but a man also controls those wants.”
    There was a slight tap from the interior of the inn and then the maid who had been watching Joey popped her head out. She gazed down the stairs, looking beyond Isabella.
    “Is he waking then?” Isabella asked.
    “No, he’s still resting like the baby that he is, but I need to lay out my mistress’s dress for tomorrow and I didn’t wish to leave him alone.” She stuck her head out further. “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
    Isabella turned her head, following the maid’s gaze. Mr. Smythe was gone. “I was,” she said. “One of the duke’s men. He was advising me on what the roads should be like tomorrow.”
    The maid gave a snort and stepped back into the inn. “A groom, I suppose. You need to be careful with them. They’re only after one thing.”
    Isabella did not reply, merely following the maid back in and up the interior stairs to the attic room they shared.
    The problem was she wasn’t sure what Mr. Smythe wanted. Well, he did want that, but he did seem to be considering something more besides. Somehow she had to find out just what—and quickly.
    And then there was herself, what did she want? What did she need?
    M ark stood in the shadows and watched Isabella slip back into the inn. His body was still tense with both arousal and the nearness of being discovered. If there was one thing he knew about maids, it was that they never kept quiet. If he’d been caught kissing Isabella the whole inn would have known of it within the hour and probably half the surrounding town as well. It was bad enough that Douglas probably knew. The blasted man knew everything.
    Mark glanced up at the dark windows above, looking for the familiar silhouette.
    Isabella had been right to step back, to step away, to draw a halt to it all.
    Still, he wished she hadn’t. His lips still longed for the feel of hers beneath them, soft, sweet, willing.
    Only how willing was she, and did he care? Could he be content with kisses? Could he risk more than kisses? If he seduced her did he need to tell her who he was first? Surely it was the only honorable thing—and yet his whole being cried out against letting her know that he was the duke.
    So he was back to the original question: Could he be content with kisses?
    He never had been before. He couldn’t recall ever willingly entering into a relationship that would consist only of kisses—not that this was a relationship. It was more of a dalliance. Still, she was right. A man wanted more, needed more.
    So why hadn’t he said that or even just walked away?
    He still could. It would be the easy thing, the sane thing, to simply instruct the driver to travel a normal distance tomorrow instead of these shortened drives that Mrs. Wattington demanded. If he did that, perhaps even added an extra few miles to the day, he would arrive in London as expected, rather than late. It surely couldn’t be a good thing to be late for one’s king—and yet he’d been willing to risk it.
    For kisses.
    Was he truly willing to risk royal ire for kisses?
    I sabella’s mind danced with the glory of Mr. Smythe’s kisses. It had been years since she’d been so lost in the wonder of a moment. All things suddenly seemed possible. She almost skipped as she headed up the stairs to her room.
    “We want what you took and we want it now.” The whisper came from behind her as she was halfway up the stairs.
    She froze, the breath leaving her.
    Then fear set in. She had to get away. Before she could turn and run she felt her arms grabbed and held tight. A large male body pressed against her back, forcing her against the stair rail. The scent of old sweat filled her nostrils.
    Her entire body froze. Last night she had been scared to enter the inn. Tonight it had not even occurred to her. Her thoughts had been of nothing but Mr. Smythe and his kisses. How could she have been so foolish?
    “Don’t