Impervious to her incredulity, he continued. “That way I can see your pretty pink—”
Her hand flew as if it had a life of its own and slapped his cheek. “You’re loathsome,” she gasped out, cradling her stinging palm. “And vulgar!”
His mouth curved faintly in provoking amusement. “Ah…too much, too soon?” he asked, unperturbed that her palm print had reddened his cheek. “A kiss then, and I release you from any indebtedness you feel.”
His voice was a rough murmur, brushing softly against her skin in a wicked caress. He made her want to do things with that cruelly sensual slant of mouth. Kiss him, perhaps…or order him to drop to his knees before her and kiss her there. Visceral chaotic images burned in her mind, and a blush ran along her entire body. She shook her head, trying to clear the ridiculous thoughts.
Good heavens, how was this man able to rouse the wanton within her? She should not have read the naughty book with the very scandalous drawings Daphne had shown her. She grabbed her scandalous thoughts and crushed them under her mental heels, praying they would never resurface. She maintained her composure, because that was what she’d been trained to do.
She had been groomed to be a duchess—love and passion were never a part of the deal. It had always been about her duty and moral obligations to her title and family. To even acknowledge an attraction to this man was a betrayal of everything she had been reared to believe. It was only a few weeks ago the Gazette had named her one of the ton’s most influential women. It had declared she was admired for her fashionable elegance and preeminent position within society. Her reaction to such a common man was truly unpardonable.
The devil smiled as if he understood the awful and very absurd temptation he represented.
She dragged in a ragged breath. “I will pay you for your services,” she said frostily.
“I believe I shall keep you in my debt.”
Fury lit in her veins. “And if I should say my debt is discharged if you refuse payment?”
He studied her with unnerving calm. “Then I would agree it is discharged.”
The man confused her. “Why will you not accept payment?”
“Money?”
She pointedly ignored the mocking gleam in his eyes. “Yes!”
“I have enough wealth to last me ten lifetimes.”
“Then why do you trade in…in whatever it is that you trade in?”
There was the slightest of hesitation, and if she weren’t watching the dreadful man so keenly, she would have missed the telling pause.
“My motivations are my own. You are not in my debt, duchess. It is a pity.” Then with a short bow, he walked away.
She stood frozen in the library, at once disconcerted and exhilarated. He said his favor of finding Jane’s location was without a charge, so there was no debt, but Georgiana did not believe the dratted man. She took a calming breath. Dear Lord, she had never felt more intensely alive. Such an acknowledgment felt like the confession of a grave sin. Their association was over, and that was all that mattered, and the spark of interest that had ignited in her blood was of no importance.
Chapter Four
The duchess rode her horse with regal bearing. Rhys was certain it was she; it would be unpardonable that he would have such a swift reaction to another woman. That would be liable to kill him, for he had already spent the last week thinking about the duchess, curious as to the way she had so effortlessly captivated his interest when his thoughts should have only been preoccupied with business matters. It was a pity she hadn’t required much to give him the leverage needed to chain her to his side. When he made the duchess beholden to him, she should feel deeply indebted to grant him whatever he desired, instead of fighting the connection. That was one of the reasons he ensured his favors possessed coveted value. To demand a woman of her stature to grant him the connections he sought…no, he needed a more secure foothold.
Why was she alone in Hyde Park, alone at such an ungodly hour? It was barely six. On his way to the park, he had passed a procession of carriages, no doubt retiring from some ball. She should be abed, lazing the day away with the rest of her lot before they deck themselves in their finest riding habits and parade down Rotten Row. The dawn was just breaking, the sun still hidden by the clouds, the sky painted in gray shades of misery to match the chill in the air. He detected no companion with her, and she trotted lightly along the path without a care in the world, as if there were no lurking dangers in this part of the world.
How naive those of high society were.
It was his habit whenever he was away from the country to ride each morning before the lanes were filled with members of the ton. He found riding peaceful and utilized the park often. He had never encountered the duchess there before. In fact, he hardly ever crossed paths with another soul this early.
He urged his horse into a canter, keeping a discreet distance. He trailed her for a few minutes, admiring the confident and skillful way she sat her horse. At times, she urged the animal into a gallop yet remained gracefully in the sidesaddle. Several times he tensed, expecting her to slip at any moment and break her damned neck. This was one of the reasons his sisters hardly ventured into Hyde Park for a ride—they were used to the freedom of the countryside and sitting astride.
The duchess slowed her horse to a gentle trot, then halted. He, too, stopped, canting his head. Was she meeting a lover? Had she found the man her brother had urged her to bring to bed? Rhys’s gut tightened in regret at the image of another man tasting those lips or riding her to fulfillment. God’s blood.
A rueful laugh escaped him. He wanted her…wanted to be that lover she had looked so lonely for.
Certainly, it was a foolhardy desire. She probably hated the very sight of him. Rhys had goaded her unmercifully, had been vulgar as she accused him, and then he had relieved her of any debt to him. His family would have been appalled and distressed by the crude manner in which he had spoken with her. Despite his mother’s efforts in teaching him of the ways of society, he’d always seen people instead of the title they placed before their name as if that defined their characters. He had business dealings with highly placed lords and government officials who had shown themselves to be as depraved and dishonorable as members of the criminal classes. No…it was people he had tried to see first, always. The duchess had seemed so cold and aloof, he’d wanted to pierce her armor of genteel reserve and eminent respectability she’d cloaked herself in. He had been deliberately crude and had been rewarded with a stinging slap…and passion. The lady had enough fire to burn, and he wanted to be engulfed in her flames. Rhys concluded he had been momentarily afflicted by madness.
He smiled when she suddenly whirled her horse to face him. Rhys trotted closer so that she could identify him.
“Mr. Tremayne, how unexpected. For a moment I thought you a dastardly villain,” she said with a haughty lift of her brow.
“Nothing so sinister.”
“Then why have you been following me?”
Fascinating. He was used to operating in the shadows, weaving among the masses unseen. He’d not realized he’d bumbled and drawn her attention. Still, he had been several paces behind her. She was a keen observer. “The park is lonely. Any scoundrel could come upon you.”
“You were concerned for my welfare? How gallant,” she said with biting sarcasm. “My carriage is parked nearby with footmen. I believe if I scream I shall be heard. The only scoundrel who may have the boldness to approach me is you, Mr. Tremayne.”
Clearly, she hadn’t forgiven his ungentlemanly behavior in her library. “I can see you are a woman prone to hold a grudge, Your Grace.”
She flashed him a quelling glance. “You were boorish and improper, and I am not minded to forgive you.”
“Ah, there is no legacy so rich as honesty. Your bluntness is…refreshing.” He whipped off his top hat and bowed. “Forgive my ungentlemanly utterances a few days past.”
Her eyes widened in evident surprise. “You read Shakesp
eare?”