The Duke of Morewether’s Secret Page 6

  The half moon disappeared behind the ever present London clouds. She asked, “You know my deep, dark dancing secret. What’s yours? Why don’t you dance?”

  “As you saw, I do dance. Very well as a matter of fact. I’m not sure you noticed with your head down the whole time.”

  She tossed him a withering look but it lost its effect when she rolled her eyes. “I noticed. You could partner with Terpsichore herself.”

  “The Muse of dance? Thea, you flatter me.” He touched his hand to his heart in an expressive, over-the-top gesture.

  “So then, why don’t you dance?”

  Christian sighed. “If I tell you why, it won’t make your already dubious opinion of me any better.”

  Thea’s eyebrows rose on her forehead. “Well now you have to tell me.”

  “Because it’s not fair to the ladies.”

  Thea snorted. “This ought to be interesting. Please continue.”

  “It’s not fair to the young ladies. It gives them and their bulldog mothers unnecessary hope.” He paused and glanced at her before continuing. “It gives the other” — chose your words carefully here — “women unfortunate … misconceptions and unrealistic … expectations.”

  Thea nodded as if she understood the underlying sentiment. “You could dance with Francesca or Anna. Your mother.”

  Christian shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “I find it is best not to open the flood gates.”

  “And yet —” Thea paused in the grass and tilted her head slightly to the side as she eyed him “— you forced me to dance with you.”

  Christian blinked at her. Dear God, he certainly had.

  Thea smiled at him again as they emerged from a copse of trees. The moon shone on her face and he saw she was sublime. No wonder he wanted to dance with her. She didn’t speak, and he didn’t want her to inadvertently say anything to make him feel bad about himself, so he quickly changed the subject.

  “So your father is Viscount Ashbrook?” He’d done some inquiring of his own. “How is it the daughter of a peer never learned to dance?”

  “Was the viscount,” she amended his information. “Now Ashbrook is some distant cousin of mine I’ve never met and who has not even the slightest interest in meeting me.” Again she shrugged. She seemed to do that every time something affected her which she didn’t wish to acknowledge. “I had a dance instructor. I was hopeless, and he quit in tears. He actually sent my father a bill for a broken toe. Instead I studied everything I could get my hands on about the subject that interested my father, Classical Greece, in an effort to spend time with him, not that it made any difference to him.”

  “Regardless, you certainly seem to have fit into ton society, except for when it comes to salon lectures,” Christian told her, accompanied by Flirty Grin #2. He steered her to a secluded bench surrounded by rose bushes. The scent of the flowers wafted over them in a light breeze.

  “My regrettable inability to dance notwithstanding.”

  “Indeed,” He grinned and nodded in agreement. “But still …”

  “That’s just integrity, Your Grace.” Thea smoothed her skirts as she sat on the bench and looked at him standing several respectable feet away. “Even we heathens have integrity. Possibly, we invented it. You know, the Greeks invented just about everything.”

  “You are a marvelously brilliant and beautiful people.” Christian gave her a short bow.

  The lady granted him a polite smile, although it looked like she was trying not to be pleased by his compliment.

  “You don’t dance in Greek society then?” “Of course we dance. Quite exuberantly, in fact.” She was adorable when she was indignant — even mildly indignant.

  Christian made a sweeping motion with his arm indicating the large grassy area available for a demonstration.

  “You don’t think I’m going to dance for you, do you? Now?” She was even more adorable when she was embarrassed.

  He raised his eyebrows suggesting that, indeed, that is exactly what he was suggesting.

  “There isn’t any music,” she pointed out.

  “I’ll hum.”

  Her expression settled into a frustrated, mutinous line. “I don’t want to dance.”

  “You don’t have to.” Christian shrugged. “Of course, I’ll assume the Greeks don’t have any interesting dances. That would explain a lot, I suppose.”

  Indignant Thea was back. Delicious.

  “What would it explain exactly?” she asked, with an arched eyebrow.

  Christian shrugged with as much inciting mystery as possible. “Probably nothing.”

  Thea gasped and a knowing smile lit her face. “You want to see me embarrassed again. You are an awful man.” Her voice was low and throaty, flirting with him. He wanted to kiss her. They were in the perfect place — hidden from others in the garden by the hedge of roses. There was enough light from the moon and scattered torches to see the shadows play across her cheekbones and highlight her smile.

  “You’ve seen me embarrassed; it seems only fair.”

  “When were you embarrassed?”

  “You don’t recall the dinner party?” Christian sat on the opposite end of her bench. They were both angled in so their knees nearly touched. “Dinner was embarrassing. Charades was embarrassing. The whole evening was a nightmare.”

  To say the very least.

  Thea leaned forward. “Is that why you left early?”

  Christian didn’t answer because, now that the moment had passed, he knew precisely how childish the act had been.

  “Well, then, fair is fair.” Thea stood and straightened her skirts. “This dance is normally performed by men all over the Ottoman Empire. Also, this isn’t really the right kind of dress, They wear an elaborate robe so something will be lost since there isn’t a full skirt to float about. And I don’t have a hat.”

  “Enough stalling. Get to dancing.”

  Slowly Thea raised her arms in the air and rotated slowly to the right. The spin accelerated until she was spinning steadily in a whir of colored silk and black hair. She’d made about fifteen full circles, completely captivating Christian with her intensity, before she lost her balance and toppled to the grass. Christian leapt to his feet, alarmed she might have injured herself, but she sat on her bum in the grass, palm to her forehead, laughing.

  “Are you happy now?” Thea asked.

  Christian sunk to the grass next to her, brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “That was amazing. What was that?”

  “Whirling Dervish,” she explained. “The Sufi priests perform it as part of a ceremony.”

  “Do they all go down at the end, too?”

  “No,” she giggled. “That part was all me.”

  “I think I liked that part best.” Now he really wanted to kiss her. When was the last time he felt trepidation in kissing a woman? Fourteen? Sixteen years of age? He was always confident his advances would be well received but, with Thea, he wasn’t sure. Instead of a kiss, he reached over and gathered a lock of her hair which had come loose during her wild spinning and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers lingered there for a moment, and Thea paused, clearly aware of the near caress.

  She gathered her wits a bit more, sat straighter and adjusted her bodice although to Christian’s mind there was nothing amiss in that general area. He ought to know, he’d been keenly aware of her bodice for quite some time now.

  “When the priests dance, it’s captivating.” She glanced at him, but then looked away quickly. “They never trip.” Thea gave a nervous laugh.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you inside earlier.” Christian was truly remorseful. His reputation would withstand the incident, but her reputation was more tenuous.

  “I’m fine. Really,” she assured him when he looked at her with skepticism. “I think the ton looks at me as an interesting, exotic animal. Besides, I’m not staying in London forever. I have a few projects to finish while I’m here, and then I’ll return home.”

&nbs
p; Christian stood and extended his hand to pull her up as well. “What are these projects?”

  Thea lifter her shoulders in a mysterious shrug. “Family business,” she told him cryptically.

  “If there’s some way I can be of assistance, any way at all I can help …” He let the sentence drift into silence. He was distracted by her nearness, her scent, her soft eyes reflecting the same look he was certain was in his eyes at that moment. He still held her hands in his own. A soft tug and she would be close enough to wrap in his arms. He broke their gaze and dropped his eyes to her lips, and he was entranced.

  “Thea …”

  “Mmmmhmmmm.”

  He took a step and dipped his head to find her lips as she raised her mouth to his. Instinct took over and all his nervousness gave way to the flash of sensation that rushed over him at their contact. His palm found its way to the sensitive flesh of her neck and, using his thumb on her jaw, he tilted her head to his desired angle, and he deepened the kiss.

  She was intoxicating.

  He wished the kiss would be enough, but he feared, with Thea, one kiss would never be enough.

  Chapter Seven

  Thea had been running out of ways to try to get Christian to kiss her. She had no business wanting him to kiss her, and it was damn inciting that he wouldn’t do it. She did have to admit, though, he was quite charming and had a talent of putting her at ease. She talked with him without constraint, which was a nice change from so many of the ton with their upper class airs and calculated boredom.

  What was wrong with these people? Until she’d met Anna’s circle of friends, she despaired of finding any amusement in the capital. The Greeks knew how to have fun, for all their lack of worldly sophistication. So many Londoners reminded her of her father, both in looks and in mien. It was almost like he wasn’t even gone. Stuffy and better than everyone, all because of a title which meant less than nothing on her island, yet he had lorded it over everyone, and they’d let him because of his air of complete authority. Even her mother had been completely intimidated by him. She was certain his other lovers had been as well. It was only his children who defied him.

  But Christian, even with all his fears of embarrassment, knew how to have fun. He was an interesting study, and the more she got to know him the more transparent his motives became. He had a well-cultivated reputation as a hellion, but he wasn’t one at all. A profligate lover, certainly by all accounts and gossip that was a true statement, but she’d never met anymore more concerned about what people thought of him and those he was connected to than the Duke of Morewether. His lovers and the, oh-so-scandalous, tales of his derring-do were exactly what was expected of him, a handsome, wealthy, titled man of society. Even as she thought back to the scores of tales she’d heard told, none of them were truly awful. They were all related with a chuckle and wink and were accompanied with coveted invitations to every social event in the land.

  So what his reputation really amounted to was that of a lothario, but none of the gossips ever hinted at any spoiled young maidens. The duke busied himself with married women, merry widows and courtesans. Now in the pleasant cool of the garden surrounded by privacy inducing shrubbery, Thea wanted to learn what he knew. At least, she wanted to taste what had every other woman in London yowling after the man like cats in heat.

  And that, it would seem, would be Thea’s undoing. It was intellectual curiosity that would cause her to look at him in the darkness with want in her eyes. Surely it must be her desire for truth and knowledge that had her lean against him in the fragrant darkness and tilt her head and kiss him back. Yes, a quest for knowledge of all things is what drove Thea to slide her hand behind his neck and cling there like the bodice of her dress was stitched to his suit coat.

  The Duke of Morewether was simply one more cryptic English mystery to solve while she was in London.

  It would seem by the expertise of his kiss he knew about a lot of things.

  He wrapped one arm around her waist, drawing her closer still until her skirts crushed against him and she felt his knee come between her legs. Simultaneously, the soft caress of his tongue slid inside her mouth, filling her with velvety softness.

  A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she inhaled deeply through her nose adding the scent of his cologne to the aroma of primroses that draped over her and brought all her senses alive.

  “You taste like a sea breeze,” he murmured into her ear before taking the lobe in his mouth and giving a soft bite.

  “Oh?” She wanted to believe his fanciful complement.

  His lips brushed over the sensitive skin of her throat. “And warm sunshine,” he whispered. “I knew you’d taste this good.”

  She felt a tug on her sleeve, and then he was kissing her bare shoulder. His lips feathered across her collarbone, and she tilted her head back and to the side to grant him easier access. He paused at the indent at the base of her throat, skimmed his tongue in the hollow before placing an open-mouthed kiss at the swell of each breast. A cool breeze chilled the warm dampness left by his mouth and she shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Christian whispered in her ear.

  “No,” she sighed. She was decidedly not cold. Heat steadily rose within her, and Thea was certain her cheeks must be inflamed with it. The warmth of his hands skated along her bare shoulder, heated breath fluttered over her nape where he lifted the hair which had come loose. Christian whispered words against her skin, words she couldn’t discern but that sounded sweet and compelling.

  Mindlessly, Thea swayed against him. Oh, she understood what everyone was going on about now. She never wanted this heated feeling to stop. No, she desperately wanted to ride the waves of feeling, feelings that must be desire, to completion.

  Christian’s head lifted from her skin, and she missed his lips keenly. “No, Christian, don’t stop.”

  Suddenly, his mouth was gone. His lips were gone. She swayed from the absence of his steadying hands. Thea blinked, her eyes opened, bewildered. Christian stood several paces away, his face white and his visage a mask of panic.

  Thea extended her hand. “Are you all right?” She advanced a timid pace with her arm outstretched toward him, certain he must be ill and require her assistance.

  “I need to go,” he blurted and shied away from her hand. “Go straight back the way we came, around the hedge. You’ll see the terrace lights.” All the while Christian backed away from her. One step, then two before he caught his heel on the foot of the bench and tumbled backwards. He swore bitterly, a word Thea was unfamiliar with but was certain wasn’t normally meant for ladies ears. Again, Thea leapt forward in an attempt to aid him, but he sprang to his feet. “Hurry, you’ll be safe.”

  “I don’t understand.” Truly she didn’t. The man almost acted afraid of her. And things had been progressing so swimmingly.

  “Just go,” Christian almost yelled and pointed towards the house. He positioned himself with the bench between them.

  “Fine. Fine I’ll go.” Thea adjusted her dress to cover her shoulder and turned on her heel to stalk back to the house.

  What in Hades is wrong with these English and that man in particular?

  Thea snorted. London’s greatest lover acted like he was terrified of her and that didn’t make her feel especially desirable. Not at all. She might not be exactly what the English men wanted in a wife, or apparently a lover, but she wasn’t hideous. His rejection hurt and that thought made her angrier with each step across the damp grass. Around the sculptured hedge and she saw the terrace just as he’d said. She heard his steps and hard breathing from behind her. Her breathing was as rapid, but now it was from ire and embarrassment. Before, as she’d melted into his touch, she’d obviously misinterpreted the shape in his trousers as arousal matching hers. What an ignorant fool she’d been.

  She would have no more to do with him.

  After all, she reminded herself for the millionth time, she wasn’t in England looking for a husband.

  Christian had made it
to White’s on foot.

  No matter how many swigs of whiskey he swallowed, not even when they came directly from the bottle, could he forget the look of shame that replaced the lazy look of ardor on Thea’s face when he pushed her away.

  Earlier, some damn fool had laid the blunt from his winning wager on the table before him, but his foul mood had quickly chased the idiots away, scampering back to the pack of moronic, wet-behind-the-ears youths playing cards across the room. Was it possible he’d ever been so young and full of himself? Had he ever been so indiscriminate? And loud? And asinine?

  Christian had reached the point of drunkenness where a certain clarity crystallized before him. For the first hours spent in the squat leather chair in the dark corner of his gentleman’s club, he was able to deny the truth, but time and alcohol ferreted out the lies.

  He took another long swig and ignored the servant who came to tend to his needs.

  He liked her. Thea. The Greek. He took another long pull of amber truth. She was gorgeous, but that wasn’t why he liked her. She was also intelligent and witty, but that wasn’t why either. The chit fascinated him. Everything about her drew him to her. It would be much easier if it was only lust, but no. Her brain, that quirky sense of humor, and damn it all to hell, the aloofness she’d exhibited up until tonight.

  The bottle was empty when he went to refill his glass. He eyed the wary waiter from before and a new bottle appeared within minutes. It was good to be a duke. Sometimes.

  It didn’t seem to matter to Thea he was a duke. For probably the first time, a lady wasn’t seduced by his title. In fact, as far as he could tell, the fact that he was a peer lowered her opinion of him. How ironic really that she was the first woman he’d wanted to seduce in a very, very long time, and he’d have to work hard at it.

  And yet, he was totally unnerved by her. She perturbed him in a way he couldn’t remember happening since he was in school. His well-worn reputation peeled away from him like bark from a tree, leaving him unsure of himself and discomposed. Afterwards, after he’d fled their latest encounter, he’d found himself completely obsessed with the conversation, every word, every look, every pause must have some significance.