Page 29 of The Not So Perfect Duke

People always scoff that a leopard cannot change their spots, but there was a profound shift within Damon over the past several months. Discovering Olivia and other possible half-siblings, meeting with his estranged mother, and his father’s untimely death all contributed to this long overdue self-examination. If a more empathetic man emerged, all the better; the prospect made him all the more alluring.

Another thing she had noticed. The ease at which they conversed, as if they had been friends for ages. It continued to astound Althea. All class, status, and gender barriers disappeared whenever they were alone. Althea spoke of investigating Saint Nicholas properties, the information the curate gave her, and her visit to the mission in Whitechapel.

Damon sat back. “As I said, may he rot. The duke gave the name of a brothel. My father never sent those children to an orphanage. Damn him.”

“Miss Purcell said many illegitimate children end up on the streets, and there would be no way to trace all of them. I am sorry, Damon.”

He pulled aside the curtain and looked out the carriage window at the passing countryside. “It is a lovely day. Perhaps we can share a meal at an inn later.”

“We have to speak about the kiss.”

He whipped his head around to stare at her. “Is this the part where you say it must never happen again? Because I will not have that kind of dismissive talk.”

With the speed of a jungle cat, he sat next to her. Cupping her face with his hands, he gazed into her eyes. The heat and unfamiliar emotions swirling about in the light blue depths had her breath catching in her throat. Wait, those feelings were not wholly unknown. Althea observed passion, yearning, and an almighty heat, and it caused her heart to speed up in response. For she was experiencing the same.

“It will happen again, I assure you. Whenever we are alone, I will be kissing you,” Damon said, his voice low and gruff.

And to prove his point, Damon did just that. He captured her lips and gave her such a thorough and deep kiss; Althea couldn’t stop moaning. She tunneled her fingers through his thick, golden locks again, grabbing fistfuls of it as he took the kiss deeper. Oh, those overwhelming waves of desire rippled through her again. Their tongues tangled, and the carriage stopped just as Althea moved to sit in his lap.

“Damn it all,” Damon muttered as he returned to his side of the carriage.

The door opened, and the carriage driver assisted Althea. Damon stepped out, buttoning his long coat. His hair stood up in places where she had thoroughly mussed it. Reaching up, she smoothed his hair, giving him a teasing smile.

“Let us wait a moment,” he murmured. “I cannot walk into a nunnery in this condition.”

“What condition—oh.” Althea blushed. “Just from a kiss?”

Damon took her arm and slipped it through his. “Just from your kiss.”

And how that statement thrilled her to her toes. For she had been affected as well. Althea curled her fingers and stroked the sleeve of his coat.

“You keep touching me that way, and I will never recover,” he said in a husky voice.

Her reply was to move closer. Damon chuckled low in his throat.

They strolled at a leisurely pace, taking in the grounds. The property was surrounded by a wrought iron fence and gate. One of the three brick buildings was the chapel with a tall wooden steeple. Plenty of stately and ancient oaks dotted the property, with manicured gardens in full bloom containing harebells, cornflowers, and lilies of the valley. It was quite a serene spot, perfect for quiet contemplation.

Damon stopped, picked a cornflower, and handed it to her.

“For me?”

He nodded. The look he gave Althea was penetrating, causing her insides to tumble.

She rubbed the blossom against her cheek. “This flower is as beautiful as your eyes, though a deeper blue shade.”

Damon gave her an amused grin. “Flatterer.”

After carefully tucking the flower in her reticle, Althea slipped her arm through his as they continued along the walkway. He had given her a flower, and the sweet gesture caused her heart to skip a beat or two.

As they strolled along the stone footpath, a nun in a black habit came forward to greet them. “May I help you?” she asked politely.

“We wish to see Sister Rose,” Damon replied.

“Come with me, please,” the nun stated.

Once inside, they were taken to an office and told to wait. Five minutes later, an older woman entered. As Damon rose from his chair, she waved at him.

“Please, stay seated. How may I assist you?”