Page 17 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

Certainly not to a practiced stranger who was subtly awakening all the parts of her that ached so deeply to be caressed. All the parts that a decent woman should pretend did not exist.

Dear God. Oh, God. She swallowed a sob. Adrian barely had to stroke her shoulders, her breasts, and the curve of her hip, and her body quivered, answered to his mastery. In disbelief she became aware of the wonderful tension of her inner muscles, an overwhelming sense of surrender that she had known only a few times in her marriage to Stuart. It was as if a wave of sensation had gathered deep inside her.

How dare this mercenary…this man, how dare he make her feel, force her to acknowledge her sexual desires when she had succeeded in ignoring them for so long.

For years she had struggled to master her emotions. She’d deceived those dearest to her until at last she had managed to deceive even herself. She had been born one of the wicked, passionate Boscastles. And while she’d scolded her boisterous siblings, she had at times envied their ability to enjoy their lives, to fall deeply, irrevocably in love. She’d had a chance. She had loved a quiet man and lost him. She’d begun to believe that passion, that true love, would never be part of her life.

She suppressed a whimper. Restrained the instinct to writhe. Instead, she lifted her hand to her mouth as if to stifle another sob.

How dare he commit that valiant act today and then, only hours later, completely undo her?

“Emma,” he whispered, “do you wish me to stop?”

She stared up into his luminous hazel eyes and saw not the guile of a practiced rake, but the unadulterated desire of a man who did not bother to hide what he felt. It devastated her.

“I want you to kiss me,” he urged. “Just once.”

“Just once,” she whispered, her voice skeptical, unsteady. “Have two more dangerous words ever been uttered by man or devil?”

He paused, gazing deeply into her eyes. “‘I do?’”

“Oh!” She began to pull away. “Lie down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Adrian, please. You’re a dangerous man.”

He frowned. “I’m not dangerous to you.”

“You are.”

“Why? Because I’ve sold my sword?”

“That’s a good start,” she replied.

“I would never hurt you.”

“Not on purpose.”

He drew her tightly into his arms, ignoring her whispered protests. Her body tingled and burned with the forbidden pleasure of being held to the heat of his hard-muscled male body. His gaze hooded, he stroked his long fingers down her shoulders to her sides, stealing sinful little touches here and there until, by the time his hand slipped under the hem of her gown to her knee, she was shaking, utterly prepared for his seduction. And yet unprepared.

His mouth captured hers in such a subtle assault that it did not seem natural to refuse. Her lips parted in expectation. A sweet pain pierced her, quickened the pulses that beat through the depths of her body.

She tilted her head, answering his dominance. Whereas before the candlelight had gentled the hard contours of his handsome face, the darkness stripped away all illusions of refinement. He was a dangerous man. One who had turned his back on Society. One who mesmerized her for reasons beyond her understanding.

He had sold his services to other lands. She wondered why. Surely a duke’s heir did not need a fortune. Was it danger that he, like so many other young gentlemen, had sought? Perhaps he’d been running away. Had he done something he regretted in his past? She supposed it was more important to ask why he had come back.

Her brothers trusted him. And she—

She acknowledged his allure. It drew her, not merely the danger of him, but his openness. Few men recognized her spirit of fun. She did not often allow it to show. She felt the fire inside her now, too, steadily rising.

His lips brushed her wet, swollen mouth again. His hands sought her most vulnerable places. Her back arched. Her body begged for something she was ashamed to admit. He was a conqueror by choice. A moan rose in her throat.

He heard, his instincts sharp. His eyes glinted down at her in the dark. He knew. Scarcely had she released another breath than his hot mouth skimmed her breasts to suckle her nipple through the thin silk.

She shivered, aroused, her body weightless. Emma Boscastle letting a man she had only just met nuzzle her breasts, suckle at her so indecently. Pleasure lanced like sunlight through her senses, her confusion.

“Lord Wolverton,” she said, unable to subdue another shiver, “this cannot be good for your health.”