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Of course, wanting her and having her were two very different things. He may want her, but he knew he could never have her. He had been married once. Never again. That was the trouble with courting; one never really got to know the other until after the marriage. When you were a duke, it was an arrangement, financial and historical. Made for legacy’s sake and for the family, not the heart. If you were lucky, you found love with the one you married or, at the very least, respect. If you were unlucky…you married a woman like Victoria Smythe-Jones. The spoiled daughter of a viscount who knew nothing about her responsibilities as a duchess. He could give her all the trinkets and silks she wanted, but it never seemed to satisfy her. All she wanted to do was be with her unmarried friends.

Yes, he would go so far as to engage himself to Rose for her own financial safety, but he would never go any further. He did not need an heir, so he was free to be a widower without pressure. Free. What a strange word. He was hardly free. Like a bird stuck in a golden cage, all the surrounding prettiness did not make up for his lack of freedom. He had everything he could want, except that it came with heavy responsibility. Such was the burden of rank. He must look after the family, the estates that came with the ducal title, his presence was required in the House of Lords, and, of course, his duty to the royal family as the king’s liaison.

A mistress would not be blinked at by society, but he was simply too busy to entertain such a relationship. Rose was disrupting his life enough, and then he went and invited her to come to him tonight. To what end? Just so he could kiss her? Such an action would not help their situation, but at the same time he could not stop thinking about how she would react if he kissed her properly, the way he wanted to kiss her. He was a cad, and he knew it. He had no right to enter a situation that might start with kisses but go beyond. He must not kiss her if she came. He must make an excuse to send her away, even if he didn’t want to. Even now he was picturing her breasts as they peeked behind the fichu she was wearing today. He imagined they would be warm and soft in his hands.

He must stop!

He sighed and picked up the next dispatch. He had not heard from Tony about Dunstan’s report on Brookhaven. Not that he expected any response until Tony had gathered more evidence. Many young men got themselves into such trouble when first they came to town all the time. That alone was not enough to prove he was only wanting control of her money in order to pay off debts. It had only been a day, but Edward was anxious to get this issue dealt with for Rose’s sake. He had the mole in the House to find as well, and while he had downplayed it, he was not naïve enough to dismiss it.

He heard voices downstairs. His mother, sister, and Rose had returned. His heart sped up with the expectation of seeing her. It was like he was a lovesick youth. Next, he would find himself creating prose to her beautiful blue eyes and her golden hair. What the hell was wrong with him?

He put his head down and went back to work. He heard their voices as they said their goodnights and made their way to their rooms. Perhaps she would not come. She might be too tired. If she did not come to see him, would he be disappointed or relieved?

An hour passed, and when he heard the soft knock, his breath hitched. He waited for the door to open for what felt like an eternity. Perhaps she had changed her mind. He stood but did not move. He strained his ears to listen for footsteps. Nothing. He took the few short strides to the door and swung it open. Then stepped back immediately.

Rose stood in the doorway. Wearing some diaphanous concoction, ironically buttoned up to the neck, held together with an equally flimsy dressing gown.

When she looked up at him, her blue eyes held him captive. He reached for her and she stepped into his arms without them even uttering a word. Holding her close was everything he had wanted. She was warm in his arms, and the scent of her enveloped him. Rose looked up at him, and he was lost. He lowered his head and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, full of yearning and something he did not want to acknowledge. Loneliness.

“The door,” she whispered.

“Yes, of course.” He let go of her and closed the door. When he turned back, she was by the fire.

“It is cold tonight,” she said as she held her hands out to the flames.

“Yes,” he replied. Such a simple word when he wanted to say so much more. Thankfully, she held out her hand to him, and he took the two strides it took to take it. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, then the inside of her wrist, and finally the palm of her hand. He looked up to find her smiling, so he did the same on the other arm, pushing up the wide sleeve of her nightgown, pausing before pressing a kiss to her eyelids and the shell of her ear.

“Edward,” she said, her voice soft and confused.

“This dressing gown is very pretty, but no wonder you are cold.”

“I…I did not come here for this.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Fool, fool, he said to himself. Had he got all the signals wrong? “What did you come here for?”

“I do not know.”

“Come now, Rose. You are not usually so shy in sharing your opinions.”

“It was not my opinions that led me here.” She lifted her hand and placed her palm on his cheek as if she were bidding him farewell, and he closed his eyes for a moment. “I do not know what it is about you that draws me here. I just want to be wherever you are, and I know that sounds ridiculous because we both know whatever this is, it cannot be.”

“There is no harm in kisses,” he said, desperate to keep her here, with him, even if it was just for a few more minutes.

“It is not kisses I fear. It is what those kisses may lead to.”

“They do not need to go further. We could keep to kisses only.”

“Would that be enough for you?”

Absolutely not. He wanted all of her, but he also wanted her to stay. “Let us see,” he said before he reached for her and pressed his lips to hers. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. That was what he needed. Rose in his arms, kissing him. He deepened the kiss, and she opened for him like a flower in bloom; their tongues dueled in unison. His body heated, and he couldn’t get close enough to her, his hands and fingers pressing and pulling her closer. He groaned deep in his throat as her fingers tangled in his hair. She wants this; she wants him. Edward’s heart soared.

When she broke the kiss, his lips went straight to the sensitive spot behind her ear and down her neck, lamenting the lacy collar of her nightgown. “I want to kiss you everywhere,” he murmured in her ear.

“Oh, lord,” she said as she moaned when he kissed and softly nipped her neck.

“Would you like that?” he asked as he pulled at the ribbon holding her dressing gown together.

“I…yes, I think.”