“Ah, but you said Ioweyou.”
“You owe me the ability to have my own power,” she countered. She gestured impatiently with her gloved hand. “If I go to this cottage by the sea under your care, will I ever know that I am free? Or will I simply always be beholden to you, Your Grace? I do not wish to be beholden to you. I wish for you to treat me as an adult, to treat me as a person, and allow me to make my own choices.”
He stared down at her, mystified. “Even if they lead you to rack and ruin?”
“Even so,” she said with a nod. “At least then I will know that they are my actions that led me there and not the machinations of a man.”
He let out a slow breath. “Then I cannot make contest. Nor shall I try. For such a thing would be the height of arrogance. But you must understand, I do know the world better than you. And the path that you are choosing is not an easy one.”
She squared her shoulders before declaring, “No path is easy for a woman, Your Grace.”
“No,” he agreed. “I cannot argue with that either.”
“And so will you keep your word?” she demanded. “Or are you like the rest, and simply choose when you are honorable or not?”
He winced at that. Again and again, she made solid points. And he did not wish to prove her very good case about the waning nature of men’s honor.
“You ask me to deflower you in one breath and speak of honor in the next,” he pointed out.
“Yes,” she said, “because honor is in keeping your promises and keeping your word. You will not harm me by deflowering me. You are giving me power, sir. Now let us cease all this chatter and take action. Action is the only thing that matters, in any case.”
“Good God,” he marveled. “You should be a solicitor.”
“I would if I were but a man,” she replied with an arch of her brow. “But I have few things that can earn me coin. Teach me to make the best of them.”
He swallowed.
And without waiting another breath, he surrendered to that feeling growing inside him. Garret surrendered to that deep, primal voice that demanded he take her, to show her exactly what she wanted. He could, of course, be the all-high duke and take her care into his hands.
But that would be the worst betrayal of her wants and her personhood.
Catherine did not want him to take care of her, and so he would not.
Or at least not in the way that she thought he might. He lowered his mouth to hers then, tasting her. His lips caressed hers, and from that first taste? He knew he was lost. Like a drunkard and a first sip of wine, he knew he had to have all of her.
She gasped against his mouth, and despite the carnal need spiraling through him, he realized she had never been kissed before.
He was to be her rake and teach her the ways of sin.
Yet she had not set a single foot on the path of carnal desire. For one moment, he felt uncomfortable. But then he thought that he was probably the very first person to ever have followed her commands, and he knew that had to make her feel as if she were important.
How many men gave a damn for the wants of a woman?
Not enough.
So, he did not cease his kiss. Instead, he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close to him.
He would make this pleasurable for her. By God, he would teach her pleasure. The best courtesans, after all, knew pleasure. Some could feign it.
But the best, theverybest, enjoyed what happened between a man and a woman. And he would make certain that she did. She deserved that, at least.
Languidly, Garret traced his mouth over hers. Slowly teasing, intoxicating her as wine did once it entered the blood. He could tell that it was slowly working because she leaned against him.
Her own hands slid up to his shoulders, then she wove her fingers into his hair.
He gently touched the line of her mouth with his tongue and was startled as she parted her lips so easily.
Slipping his tongue into her mouth, he delved, miming an age-old action, tempting her.