“No,” she managed to croak out. Then, on a note of desperately sought recklessness, “but I believe my sterling efforts have earned the end of my bondage.”
He looked at her strangely. “I untied your hands while you kissed me.”
“What?” she asked uncertainly, then realized it was true. Worse, her arms encircled him and she caressed his back.
She was only a breath away from drawing him down for more of those devastating kisses. She vaguely remembered him tugging at her hands during their tempestuous embrace. He must have released her then.
A different heat clawed its way up her face. Of all the humiliations her abduction involved, she’d hated those bonds the most. Yet she’d been so lost in the whirlwind of his kiss that she hadn’t even noticed she was no longer constrained.
“Get off me,” she snarled, snatching her hands away from him.
He didn’t budge. She should have known he wouldn’t respond to an order. “I’ve never had sex in a carriage before,” he said thoughtfully.
Neither had she, but she refused to admit it. “I prefer a bed.”
A slow smile crossed his face as the vehicle’s movements evocatively jostled her against him. For a moment, he looked almost approachable. “Does that mean you’ve reconciled yourself to returning to me?”
Oh, curse her for blurting out these suggestive comments. Soraya would never be so easy to catch out. Verity was badly rattled and likely to plunge herself deeper into trouble with every word.
In overdue self-protection, she spoke ironically, just as Soraya would have. “Do I have any option, Your Grace?”
That couldn’t be disappointment in his eyes, could it? The fleeting expression vanished when he rolled off her and returned to his own seat. “No, you don’t,” he said.
She sat up shakily, at last able to brace herself against the swaying vehicle, and began to straighten her clothing. Surprisingly, apart from a few buttons undone at her collar, everything was in place. She left her hair loose. Without pins or hairbrush, it was impossible to bring it into anything approaching order.
He leaned forward to raise the blinds. After the gloomy intimacy, even the brightness of the rainy evening jarred her. She narrowed her eyes and looked across at the duke.
He was a study in rumpled elegance. How could such a hell spawn be so beautiful? When she’d first seen him six years ago, he was twenty-one, just emerging from youth. She’d thought him the most perfect creature God ever created. But even then, that eerie self-possession had already settled over his narrow, intelligent face. With a despairing honesty, she admitted that maturity merely added to his attractions.
She watched him struggle to regain his usual unruffled manner. But his color was high, and his mouth was full and softer than usual.
The world that called him Cold Kylemore had no real understanding of him. An inferno of passion blazed beneath the duke’s nonchalance. She could only guess at the effort required to keep that bottomless pit of emotion secret.
Except it was no longer a secret—at least to her. He was angry, he was bitter, he was hurt, although she knew he’d face torture before he admitted to the last. He was also as randy as a hare in spring. It surprised her he’d kept his promise and not taken her. She knew him well enough to read some of his restlessness as unsatisfied lust.
When she’d left him, she had thought he’d find another mistress quickly and, if not forget Soraya, at least do his best to ignore the rejection. The duke had a strong sexual drive. She’d always assumed that on the days he didn’t ride out to Kensington, he relieved his itch with other women. Someone like him would always attract feminine notice. She’d never duped herself into believing him faithful to her alone.
But the man sitting opposite, who had gone back to staring at her, blast him, was almost feverish with desire. She could smell the lust on him. The unbelievable idea gained credence in her mind that he hadn’t had a woman in a long time. Perhaps even since she’d run away.
It was absurd. It couldn’t be true.
Although she thought, leaning down to untie her feet, that might explain what had driven him to this rash abduction.
So why wasn’t he pumping three months of frustration into her right now? She couldn’t make him keep his bargain not to touch her. And he’d have her soon enough anyway.
None of this made sense. Just as that furious kiss made no sense if he meant to leave her alone for the moment. Which, amazingly, it seemed he did.
“What was that all about?” she asked a long time later.
To his credit, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. “The kiss? You said it yourself. It was to teach you a lesson.” He used the cold, cutting voice again, and despite herself, she shivered.
“That you can touch me whenever you feel like it?” She injected a challenge into her voice. “I already knew that.”
He smiled slightly. “Yes. But now you know when I touch you, you’re not immune. And that thought will eat at you like acid.”
He was right, damn him. For the first time in this long, disheartening day, she was truly terrified.
Chapter 6