From Duke till Dawn: 2018’s most scandalous Regency read. Eva Leigh
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her experience. Though it did—with Alex. It was one of the reasons why she’d gone to his bed.
“I know,” she replied. “But I gave him my word, and I am always true to my word.”
A muscle flexed in Alex’s jaw. She knew he didn’t care for her response, even if some part of him respected her code of ethics.
“How long do you intend to work here?” he demanded.
A little bit of truth helped shore up a lie. “Mr. Hamish doesn’t plan on keeping the hell open for more than a month. We’ve got thirteen days left, and then the operation closes. He intends to use his earnings to open a more-permanent establishment in Edinburgh.”
“You’ll follow him to Edinburgh?” He seemed to push these words out as if rubbing sand into an open wound.
She shook her head. “With my saved wages, I plan on going to a town somewhere up north and teaching deportment to mill owners’ daughters.”
“Every step is planned out.” He released her hand and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Life is a chess game.” She pursed her lips. “All moves are thought out well in advance, or else disaster follows. I made that mistake with my cousin, and it can’t happen again.”
He exhaled as he glanced away. “This . . . is intolerable. You must allow me to help you.”
The duke was completely in her control. She could ask anything of him now, and he’d give it to her.
She imagined the luxurious apartments that could be hers, silk and satin and beauty everywhere she looked. Jewels for her ears and throat. Food cooked by her own French chef. Plenty of fine things to wear or look at. Every one of her youthful dreams brought to bear.
She didn’t want any of that anymore. Where once her mouth might have watered with greed, now she tasted ashes.
“Must I?” She smiled.
He looked rueful. “Of course, you have to do what you think is right.”
“Thank you.”
A corner of his mouth turned up, the most she had ever seen him smile. What would it take to get him to grin, to laugh aloud?
She wouldn’t know. She shouldn’t know.
“I have to do something to assist you,” he insisted.
Nodding toward the doors that led back into the building, she said, “Spend extravagantly.”
“I am not given to extravagance,” he said drily.
Oh, how she longed to flirt with him. To finger the diamond solitaire winking in his cravat and tell him that he wasn’t always so restrained. To coax more smiles and laughter from him, those rare, intoxicating sounds. But why torment herself with what she couldn’t have? That way lay pain and disappointment—two emotions she knew too well.
“Try,” she urged him. “For me,” she could not resist adding.
“How can I deny you?” he asked playfully.
“Or risk my wrath,” she teased.
“Watch me tremble.” He held up his rock-steady hand.
She pushed his hand away. “Mocking a lady is poor form, Your Grace.”
“Very well,” he allowed. “I’ll go back inside.”
Her heart squeezed tightly. This was it. The last time they would see each other. She thought she understood pain, but it kept surprising her with its depth, its tenacity.
“Before I do . . .” Alex continued, “forgive me, but I cannot stop myself.”
“Forgive you for—?”
Before she could finish her sentence, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Cassandra couldn’t move. Her thoughts halted in place, too. For a moment, she could only stand frozen with shock as Alex kissed her. The sane part of her mind fizzled like water on a candle, until it burned away. Because her body knew just what to do, and what it wanted. Need and hope and happiness swelled within her, until she felt she would burst with the press of emotions.
It had been so long. Too long.
He kissed her with the hunger of a man long denied. She echoed his need with her own, their mouths hot and open and searching.
She pressed close to the unyielding span of his body, curving into him, finding all the places where they fit. Her fingers wove through the thick silk of his hair, angling his head to give her better entry to his demanding, velvety lips. He made a low, animal sound as she deepened the kiss, his hands fitting to her waist and urging her closer still. No more decorous duke. He was a man letting his carnal self go free, a self that demanded to be known.
This is a mistake. A bloody mistake. It opened the dam of her own wants and desires. She wanted him, in every way—his soul, his body. His proud, honorable heart. She wanted him so much it made her eyes burn. So much that she wanted to say to hell with the gambling and Martin and money and the promise of a secure future, to simply sink into the storm of passion that couldn’t be held back or refused.
They continued to kiss, even as he walked her back into the deeper darkness of the balcony. She followed his lead.
Dreams long denied swirled to the surface. He could carry her away, and they would be together, fully together in every way. Her past would mean nothing. The future didn’t matter. They would revel in the now.
Yet Alex was a complication she couldn’t allow. Everything he made her feel threw obstacles in her path.
She couldn’t make herself break away. She kissed him hotly, giving in to desire and fantasy. Just this once, let me have what I truly want.
He was the one to pull back, his chest heaving, his gaze sharp and fierce. Slowly, his hands slid away from her waist, leaving her aching with need.
She lowered her hands from where they cupped his head. But she didn’t move to put a safe distance between them. She stayed where she was, the air thick with hunger, the scent of him all around her.
He opened his mouth to speak.
She interrupted. “Is this the part where you apologize for insulting me like that?” Her voice sounded breathless. “Because if you do, I may truly slap you.”
“Gentlemen don’t kiss ladies without express permission.” His own voice was a dark rumble, going against the politeness of his words. “I behaved like a rogue.”
The word ladies almost made her laugh. She was no lady—but he didn’t know that. And she preferred his rogue’s kiss instead of the well-mannered, bloodless kiss from a gentleman.
“Then we’re both scoundrels,” she said, continuing to fight for breath. She sounded much calmer than she felt. Her mind and her body shouted for more. More of him. More of the dream he offered.
She tried to take a step back, but had nowhere to go, the balustrade pressing into her spine.
“Never say such a thing about yourself,” he growled.
“Let’s both accept responsibility,” she said with more confidence than she had, “and agree that it will never occur again.” If it did, what came next would be certain. She’d throw herself into his bed and never want to leave. And sooner or later, the truth about who she truly was would surface. He would learn that she was no widow, there was no villainous cousin, that she was nothing she’d claimed to be. It would be a complete disaster. And the heartbreak that would surely follow would devastate her.
His jaw flexed, as it always did when he was angry. Yet she knew his anger was entirely for himself. No matter what she said to him, or how she