“It’s not every governess who would make such an observation. I daresay you’re unique among your tribe, Miss Perkins.”
“And you’re not at all unique, as far as dukes go.”
It was far better to argue with him than field questions about her past.
Mari plunged ahead. “Oh Great Duke. King of your castle. Flinging governesses over your shoulder at will.Mutare vel timere sperno. Everyone else must change, not you.”
“Careful, Perkins,” he said, his gaze gathering storm clouds.
“Life ebbs and flows by your whims. ‘And how is the duke feeling today? Will he thunder and scorch us with lightning or will it be a tranquil day?’”
She expected him to lash out then, to tell her she was wrong and didn’t know her place.
That’s why his deep, rich laughter startled her. “Not one governess in one thousand would lecture me as you do.”
“As a governess I have a duty to point out misbehavior.”
“Impudent minx.”
Why was he grinning at her as if he liked impudent minxes more than anything?
“Perhaps I deserve a thorough tongue-lashing,” he mused.
Which sounded quite wicked when spoken in such a low, husky voice.
His gaze shifted back to her lips. “Are you planning to give me another?”
“Only if you’re bad, Your Grace.”
He must have taken a step nearer to her.
Or had she been the one to move closer?
Soclose.
What had come over her? She felt nearly weightless, as if she might float away if he didn’t touch her, anchor her to the ground. Of all the ridiculous things to long for... a kiss from the finely molded lips of a devilish duke. Lady India would surely disapprove if she were the duke’s paramour.
How many ways could she deflect his questions about her past before he became suspicious? Maybe, instead of arguing with him, she should try distracting him by other means.
A reckless desire formed in her mind.
A desire to misbehave. Just this once. To actually experience life, instead of reading about it in books.
He awakened these hidden desires in her. She had no idea where they were coming from. She only knew they made her want to do things like... this.
She rose to her tiptoes, placing her palms against his rock-solid chest. “Or... I could be the bad one.”
Her palm rested on his chest, over his heart.
Edgar could see each individual golden freckle sprinkled across her nose. The freckles continued over her cheeks, lighter there, and even kissed the edges of her lips.
Pale pink lips, slightly parted.
The flare of heat in her eyes. An invitation.
An invitation innocently given. One he could never accept.
Her hair was braided and wound round her head so forcefully it drew her eyebrows up slightly. Her actions didn’t match those tightly wound braids.