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Dartmoor snorted. “Considering my reputation is already tarnished, there is hardly any risk to me, Miss Jones. No one would bat an eyelid if the Dastardly Duke was discovered debauching a woman at a ball and then refused to do the right thing. Most of high society expects dishonorable behavior from me. You, on the other hand”—his penetrating gaze searched hers—“you are risking everything if your plan goes awry. Are you really prepared for that?”
“I am. You see, it’s not just marriage that I’m trying to avoid.” Ignoring the tripping of her heart, Artemis inhaled a deep breath, then ventured, “I have other, quite significant plans for my future.” As she shared her idea of establishing an academic women’s college, the duke listened, his expression thoughtful.
“Being constantly scrutinized by my aunt is hampering my ability to find a much-needed sponsor,” Artemis continued. “She will never support my endeavors. In fact, she might even undermine them. So it’s best for everyone if we cut all ties sooner rather than later. You might think I’m foolish and reckless, but I must have my freedom. Indeed, for the chance to make my dream a reality, I would risk almost anything.”
Artemis studied the duke’s face, waiting in breathless anticipation for him to respond. If he had any inclination to lend his support to her cause—financial or otherwise—now would surely be the time for him to say so.
“I can see how passionate you are,” he said after a short, tension-filled pause. “And while some might consider your idea controversial, I, for one, admire your vision. I have no doubt whatsoever that you have the drive, intelligence, and tenacity to succeed.”
“Thank you,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound disappointed. Which was silly because she hadn’t actually asked him to be a sponsor. At least he hadn’t laughed at her plan.
“However,” the duke continued, “while I’m inclined to become involved in your ruination scheme, I’m afraid my participation is conditional. I’ll accept your proposition with one proviso.”
Her interest piqued, Artemis arched a brow. “Oh, yes…”
“As you know, I have a fifteen-year-old daughter. Her name is Celeste. And even though she has a governess—Miss Sharp—who possesses excellent qualifications and references, I’m concerned she’s not quite up to the task of keeping Celeste sufficiently stimulated—in an academic sense. My daughter is bright with an inquiring mind, and quite frankly, I’m concerned that she’s bored. And because of that she’s been”—the duke paused as if searching for the right word—“difficult of late. A little rebellious and inclined to get up to mischief not befitting a young lady of her station.”
“Ah, I see,” said Artemis. “Like reading salacious Gothic novels perhaps?”
“Exactly.” The duke smiled his approval. “So I’m rather hoping you will agree to talk with Miss Sharp. You appear to have some expertise when it comes to the education of young women, and I have every confidence that you will be able to provide recommendations to improve the governess’s tutelage. So that Celeste is more engaged.”
“Hmmm.” Artemis considered the duke’s request and couldn’t think of any reason to refuse. But she also had a suggestion. “Perhaps it would also help if I actually spoke with your daughter about her academic interests, Your Grace. I’m sure she will be able to clearly articulate what she likes or doesn’t like about her studies. It would help me to pinpoint any issues or concerns that Miss Sharp hasn’t identified.”
The duke rubbed his chin as he considered her proposal. “I think that could be arranged.”
“And I’d suggest that when I visit Dartmoor House, I do so discreetly. A single woman like me shouldn’t show up on the doorstep of a very eligible duke in the middle of the day or, even worse, at night. If I’m recognized, it could spell disaster. And I can’t have that.”
He grinned. “I’m flattered that you think I’m eligible. And of course, I’ll make sure that your visit is unobserved and that your identity is protected. I’ll have Morton, my secretary, set it up.”
“So, does that mean we have struck a bargain, Your Grace?”
His mouth slowly curved into a wide grin. “We do, Miss Jones.” And Artemis suddenly felt like she’d made a deal with the devil himself. Especially when the duke leaned close and his heated gaze locked with hers. “What say we seal our pact with a kiss?”
***
Miss Jones inhaled a long, slow breath, and Dominic’s blood thrummed with anticipation.Intrigueddidn’t seem like quite the right word to describe how he felt at this moment. And it wasn’t just this woman’s innate sensuality that had him so hooked. It was her keen intelligence. Her openness and brazen willingness to take risks for something she wholeheartedly believed in.
Perhapscaptivatedwas a better word. Ormesmerized.
Wantingdefinitely fit the bill.
God, how he wanted…
His gaze drifted to Miss Jones’s delectable mouth, her crushed-berry lips so ripe and plump and inviting. A wash of sunlight from a nearby window drew his attention to a tiny dark mole, a natural beauty patch, right beside the corner of her mouth. He had no idea why he’d never noticed it before, and now that he had, it was damnably distracting. Like an erotic exclamation mark inviting him to stop and take note.
To pause. To linger…
“You haven’t answered my question.” His gaze flicked up to her eyes, where shards of deep gold and caramel glinted in their dark-brown depths. “Shall we kiss, or—”
He got no further as Miss Jones gripped his lapels with such force, he had to put out a hand to steady himself against the bookcase. And then her mouth crashed into his.
Christ.Her kiss was hard and intense, almost bruising. There was nothing gentle about the fierce press and desperate slide of her lips, or the way her tart, slick tongue curled around his.
Yes, it was an all consuming, turbulent kiss filled with heat and passion, and it fired his ravening need to blazing proportions. Her scent, a bewitching combination of sweet things like roses and vanilla with a musky feminine undertone, wrapped around him, ensnaring him in its tendrils. Fanning the flames of his lust.
He slid a hand behind her nape and tipped her head back to allow him better access to the hot, honeyed cavern of her mouth. He delved and tasted and feasted with the urgency of a man starved of sustenance. And perhaps he had been. For years. Miss Jones’s tempestuous kiss was like sweetest manna from heaven, and right here, right now, he intended to have his fill.
When she flagrantly crushed herself against his chest and twisted her fingers into his hair, she pulled a deep groan from his throat. Beneath his trousers, his already half-hard cock leapt and twitched. If they were any other place than a bookstore, he’d devour her neck and rip open the buttons of her damnably confining bodice and corset. Free her full breasts…
