Page 50 of To Dare a Duke

“I want you,” he murmured as his hands caressed and kneaded. He kissed and nipped and traced patterns with his tongue as Prue shivered and sighed. “I need you closer.”

Robert tugged at her, trying to achieve just that but it was awkward in the carriage, the two of them side by side. Drat it, she thought, why hadn’t he chosen a better place to seduce her? Surely a villain of his calibre should think of such things? She almost giggled at that, but was hit instead by a wave of sadness.

This complicated, marvellous man would never be hers, not as a husband, not as anything more than she could have in this moment. Her plans for the future did not, could not include him. She had used him, used his misery and his terrible reputation for her own ends and that was to be her punishment. Yet, there was no reason he should suffer further for her actions. She could give him something in return. He wanted her closer, and she wasn’t about to deny him.

There had to be a way.

Prue shifted, bracing one hand on his shoulders she pulled back from his kiss, delighted by the look of him. Rumpled and heavy-lidded, he looked thoroughly villainous. She smiled, taking a steadying breath to bolster her courage before standing.

“What—” he began, surprised until she returned to him, putting a knee on the bench on either side of his thighs. “Oh, Christ,” he muttered, pulling her closer, his hands sliding under her skirts, pushing them higher until he grasped her hips and tugged.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, both at the warmth of his hands through the fine fabric of her drawers, and the sudden intimacy of her position, the breathless sound of surprise muffled as he kissed her again.

He’s mad too, she realised, pleased to recognise the same desperation in his eyes. The thought scattered as he pulled her hips closer, their bodies touching. He was hard beneath her, his arousal rubbing against her sex and sending pleasure spiking through her like a delicious little lightning strike. She thought she’d known what to expect, having seen medical illustrations of a man’s member in various states of stimulation.

Somehow, even through the fabric of his breeches, the neat little drawing had not done the matter justice.

Prue sighed and shivered as he moved against her again, the hard, thick length snug against her body, making her ache for more and sigh and move without thought, clutching at his shoulders.

Robert discarded the coat, taking it from her shoulders and tugging at her ruined dress, exposing her breasts to his gaze.

“Christ, Prue,” he said, and that sensation of power rolled over her again at the undisguised lust in his eyes, and in the rough quality of his words. He kissed her again before pulling back. “I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice unsteady, rough with desire. “For god’s sake, Prue, tell me you’ll marry me.”

She stilled, bewildered as she stared down at him, frowning. “I thought you wanted to ruin me,” she pointed out, a little disappointed in the less-than-villainous statement.

He grunted, skimming his hands over her sides, cupping and squeezing her breasts, toying with the nipples as she gasped and ached at his touch.

“I’ve already ruined you,” he said, sounding rather irritated. “And I told you that wasn’t how I meant it. I just want you to want me, more than anyone else.”

A little exasperated by this, Prue raised an eyebrow. “Surely you’ve proof enough of that?” With a rather unexpected show of her own wickedness, Prue rubbed against him, sighing with pleasure and sinuous as a cat.

His head tipped back, and she felt a thrill of exhilaration as he groaned, clutching at her hips, stilling her.

“Stop, for God’s sake, before I spend in my breeches,” he said, pushing her back a little to put distance between them.

Prue laughed, shocked to her bones and delighted all at once. Never in her life had she considered herself a temptress, and even with his words and the physical evidence, it was hard to credit.

“Stop looking so damn pleased with yourself,” he grumbled, though there was something suspiciously like affection behind the words.

That, more than anything, brought her to her senses. He deserved better than this. As much as she’d been trying to give him something he wanted, she realised in that moment, that it wasn’t this. He didn’t want something brief and sordid, a few moments of shared pleasure with a woman who had already taken so much from him. If he knew what she’d done he’d not want anything from her at all.

“Of course,” she said at once. “I should never….”

Good lord, what had she been thinking? They could be only ten minutes from her home. What would have happened if the carriage had stopped and they’d been… been….

Prue flushed scarlet and moved off him, but he held her fast, pulling her back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, frowning.

“I apologise, your grace,” she said, numb with horror at what she’d been about to do.

“Your grace?” he echoed, his eyes dark with surprise and something that looked unnervingly like hurt. “I think we’ve moved past that, don’t you? We’re to be married.”

She shook her head, realising just how badly she’d behaved. Of course, he’d think she would agree after… after….

“No,” she said, shaking her head and dismayed to note the reluctance she felt in saying the words. For a moment she wondered what it might be like to marry such a man, and pushed the dangerous idea far away. “No, we’re not.”

He let her go then, his face shuttering up, his expression cool and unreadable. Prue rearranged her clothing as best she could, feeling her stomach twist as the warmth she’d seen in his eyes snuffed out. She looked away from him, not wanting to see the change. He’d change a great deal more than that if he ever discovered the things she’d written about him, the terrible things she’d implied. Oh, lord, why had she done it? Why had she been so blatant?