Page 33 of An Inconvenient Duke

“This is a first.” She sat gracefully, then raised the glass to take a small sip of the sweet liquid. “I’ve never been invited to join the gentlemen after dinner for port.”

“What a shame.” With an amused smile, he leaned back in his chair, kicking out his long legs in a position of complete ease and relaxation. Yet behind the desk, he somehow looked even more masculine and powerful. And drat her heart, that the foolish thing leapt into her throat and beat a wild tattoo at the sight. “Those other men don’t know what they’re missing.”

Her fingers tightened around the glass in irritation. “You really mustn’t—”

“Beautiful company, biting wit, interesting conversation,” he mused, studying her over his glass. “Or at least, I hope there will be interesting conversation, especially as you’ve been avoiding speaking to me all evening.”

“I have not been avoiding you. We had a perfectly pleasant conversation over dinner.”

“Surrounded by family,” he corrected, “when we couldn’t say what needs to be said.”

“There’s nothing to be—”

“Such as what happened in the carriage.” His voice turned shiveringly intense. “We kissed last night.”

They’d done a lot more than simply kiss, and the memory of it tightened all the tiny muscles in her lower belly. She took another sip of port to calm her fluttering nerves. “I’m sure you’ve kissed quite a few ladies since your return.”

“Just one, actually.” His dark eyes gleamed. “You.”

“Well, we all make mistakes.”

His sensuous lips twisted in amusement, and he murmured a bit too huskily for comfort, “Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.” He kept his gaze locked on hers as he raised the glass to take a sip. “We kissed last night, and I strongly suspect that we both want to do it again.” His head tilted slightly as he studied her. “If I came around this desk and took you into my arms, would you stop me?”

With that question, it wasn’t her belly that he made ache.

She had to put a stop to this.Now.“I don’t wish to discuss this.”

“All right, then. So tell me more about Elise and what she was doing in the days before she died.” He hadn’t changed position, hadn’t moved a single muscle, but she sensed a hardening in him. The intensity turned deadly. “Tell me how I can find John Porter and the men responsible for her death.”

“I don’t wish to discuss that either,” she whispered from behind the rim of the glass, raised to her lips to give her something—anything—behind which she could hide. Yes, she was keeping secrets from him. So had Elise. But she wasn’t prepared to be treated like an enemy under interrogation.

“Then it’s back to why you keep kissing me whenever we’re alone together.”

Indignation sparked through her. “I do not—”

“You kissed me first over the music box.”

“Andyoukissed me in the carriage!”

A rakish grin spread across his face as he drawled, “Yes, I certainly did.”

A hot blush seeped into her cheeks, and she had to look away before he glimpsed it. Drat the devil! No wonder so many French soldiers wanted to kill him if he battled like this. “This conversation is improper and wholly unseemly for a duke.”

“Dear God, I hope so.”

Her gaze darted back to him in surprise. He’d meant that as a sarcastic reply, but the sincerity beneath it struck her like a slap. “You don’t want to be a duke?”

His smile tightened. “We’re not talking about me.”

“We are now.” She sat forward, balancing the glass of port on her knee, and critically assessed him across the desk. “If you don’t want to be a duke, why did you accept the title?”

“I had no choice.”

“Of course you did. Prinny could have given you a lesser title or a knighthood and an estate to go with it. You still would have been well rewarded and—”

“I had no choice,” he repeated.

She stared at him, unable to fathom the inscrutable expression that fell over him like a veil. Why on earth would he put himself through all these changes, all the pressure of running a dukedom and sitting in Parliament, if he didn’t—