Page 25 of An Inconvenient Duke

When she nodded, he leaned forward and brought his lips to her forehead in a gesture of understanding and gratitude for trusting in him.

“Marcus, I’m sorry…” She buried her face against his shoulder as she clung to him, not caring how weak she must have seemed. Not caring about anything except how much she needed to absorb his strength to keep from breaking down completely. “It was my fault that she died.” In her grief, she could barely speak the words. “I asked for her help—she died because of me.”

“It isn’t your fault,” he murmured into her hair, his arms tightening around her.

Oh, how much she wanted to believe that! But simply saying it didn’t make it true.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d told him all she was willing to share, and still it wasn’t enough to bring solace. There was nothing left that she could do or say to give him the peace he sought, or bring any to herself.

“Danielle,” he whispered, his voice an agonized rasp. Then his lips touched hers.

She inhaled sharply at the unexpected contact. It took a moment for her to realize what was happening, that Marcus Braddock was kissing her.

No, not a kiss. Nothing as simple as that. It was so much more.

The comfort he gave her soothed the raw edges of her grief and provided an absolution of the guilt she carried and most likely always would. She drank him in, wanting desperately to end the pain. As she let go of his lapels and brushed her hands over his waistcoat to feel the power and life pulsing within him, she wanted nothing more than to find a way to be engulfed by his strength and steely hardness. To find a way to capture the solace she knew he was capable of giving—

“Marcus.” His name was a plea against his lips.

In response, he deepened the kiss. She knew as his mouth moved more insistently against hers that he was seeking his own comfort in her, and the sweet touch of lips to lips transformed from a soothing caress into shared consolation. And then into need.

He shifted her in his arms, bringing her onto his lap as his mouth captured hers, now more demanding in claiming this taste of her. His hand slipped to her nape and tugged her down to him, until her breasts flattened against his hard chest.

She lay against him so scandalously, yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. Hadn’t she wanted this since she was sixteen, to be in Marcus’s arms? Hadn’t she always been jealous of the other women she’d watched him dance with, take for drives through the park, smile at flirtatiously, and whisper God only knew what kind of sinful things into their ears that made them laugh so wickedly? Now that she was the woman in his arms, his kisses were just as wonderful as she’d imagined.Heavenly.

When the tip of his tongue coaxed at the seam of her lips, she couldn’t deny herself this pleasure and opened her mouth in invitation.

His tongue slipped between her lips to claim all of her kiss. He made slow but deep and exploring sweeps into her mouth, then encouraged her to kiss him back by giving a velvet-soft stroke over her tongue.

More nervous than she wanted to admit at this new way of kissing, she repeated the little movement. But her unschooled tongue twined around his in a motion far more wanton than she’d intended.

A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat. He began to thrust his tongue between her lips in a sinfully seductive motion that stole the air from her lungs.Sweet heavens.An intoxicating warmth bloomed low in her belly, and she melted against him, completely losing her battle to resist.

Slow and deliberate, each thrust of his tongue now came as a decadently smooth and unhurried slide between her lips. A restless ache settled between her legs, intensified by his other hand that moved reassuringly in slow strokes over her back, in caresses that were somehow both so innocent yet surprisingly erotic that she shivered.

When he slid his mouth away from hers, to trail kisses along her jaw, she whispered his name. What emerged instead was a low moan, one that made him smile against the fragile skin below her ear.

She was lost in the spicy, masculine taste of his kisses, the sensitive caresses of his hands over her body, wishing he would dare to touch her in a way no other man had ever attempted before…because she would let him. This man, at this moment, when every touch between them was a healing benediction.

“Danielle.” Her whispered name reached her through the arousal engulfing her.

A slow caress of his thumb over her bottom lip made her eyes flutter open. She stared at him, seeing such an expression of desire that she lost whatever breath she’d managed to regain.

“We’re in Westminster.”

She blinked, her kiss-fogged brain momentarily confused. But a quick glance out the window at the Queen’s House confirmed his simple statement.

Alarming clarity washed over her, replacing the confusion with humiliation. Oh, what a fool she was! To be so weak as to capitulate to him, both with her kisses and her secrets.

Cheeks burning, she slid off his lap and onto the other bench. When he didn’t move to open the door, the urge to flee overwhelmed her. She grabbed for the handle herself—

“Wait.” His hand clasped her wrist. Even at that innocuous touch, her pulse pounded wildly like a drum. “We need to talk.”

She refused to look at him. “There’s nothing more to talk about. I’ve told you all that I can.”Please don’t mean the kiss! Please don’t mean you want to talk about that…

“Are you in danger?”

The concern with which he said that pierced her. “No,” she answered honestly, “I don’t think so.” No one knew her real name or where she lived. They wouldn’t be able to trace her any further than the Golden Bell. “And Kimball had nothing to do with Elise, I’m certain of it.”