Page 58 of Distracting the Duke

She had suffered the pangs of jealousy before, with Simon, so she recognized the painful sensation. She was jealous of Ellie’s enjoyment of being in Marcus’s arms.

Very jealous.

This was bad. If Clara became Marcus’s lover, or even his wife, could she expect his fidelity? Probably not. There would be plenty of women—demireps, courtesans, wealthy widows, bored wives—who would have no scruples about tempting the Duke of Ulvercombe into their beds.

Would he refuse them?

Probably not.

Could she bear to go through all that again? The jealousy? The hurt? The insecurity?

Probably not.

Chapter Thirty-One

Despite Clara’s resolve not to give in to her desire for Marcus, she desperately wanted to know what had passed between him and Ellie on their walk home.

Had he renewed his determination to court her and changed his mind about wanting Clara?

Would that be a relief? Or would it tear her heart in two…?

One way or another, she needed to know.

Unfortunately, despite sharing some covert looks across the table at mealtimes over the next two days, she was unable to find any opportunity for private conversation with him. It was beyond frustrating.

When she still found herself staring at the moon shadows on the ceiling in the small hours for the second night in a row, she gave up and lit a candle. Perhaps if she read for a while, she’d be able to forget him and go to sleep.

Putting on her slippers and wrap, she headed downstairs to fetch a book from the library.

Passing Marcus’s study, she heard a noise from within. She halted and turned toward his door. There it was again. It sounded like…slamming drawers?

Her heartbeat sped up. Had he found sleep impossible, too? Was he thinking about how he could retract his scandalous proposition and return to his pursuit of her ward?

Before she could stop herself, she firmly grasped the doorknob and swung open his study door. “Marcus,” she determinedly began—though, to be honest, she had no idea what she would say next.

His head whipped up in surprise, and he instantly leaped to his feet. “Clara,” he said, his voice like gravel, and she was spared the need for any more words. He strode toward her and swept her up in his arms, and as she opened her mouth to protest, his lips came crashing down on hers.

She shuddered under the impact of his all-consuming kiss. She had known him tentative before, she had known him teasing, and possessive, but now she knew him as he claimed her for his own, and it was a revelation.

Lord in heaven, she wanted this.

She wanted him.

But was it safe? Would he hurt her? Could she trust him?

As if he understood her hesitation, he drew back a little. “Sweetheart, are you here for me? Do you want me as much as I want you? Or…do you want me to stop now, while I still can?”

It meant a great deal that he had asked her permission. Simon never had. Marcus was giving. Simon had simply taken.

Marcus’s dark gaze searched hers, beseeching but well-leashed, and she knew she could trust this man. Trust him to keep her safe.

Trust him to give her pleasure.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t stop. But…go slowly. I’m so frightened.”

“Clara, my darling, you mustn’t think, only feel. Forget the past. Forget everyone but you and me. Just tell me if I do anything that scares you. I want only to please you.”

She gazed up at him and saw the truth, and the desire, in his eyes.