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LOVING HER DUKE

"I will not be your mistress." She spoke, whispering, with her mouth a sigh away from his. He swallowed hard and nodded, agreeing with her even as he closed the distance between them, kissing her to madness, leaving nothing to sanity. Bethany Fitzgerald hated the very idea of marriage and stood against it with everything she was. Charles de Norcrosse had to marry the insufferable Lady Cossington, for it was the will of his late father and he must abide by it. But when fate moved in favour of the Duke of Carlisle and the daughter of an impoverished Land Baron, very little can be done to fight against it. (Loving Her Duke is the first book of the British Blood Trilogy. Second is Hating Her King.)

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137 Chs

The Dark Is Best For Confessions

Beth held on tighter to her light cover and continued. "A letter arrived today from Rosethorn Hill. Lord D'Averette has taken a fancy to my cousin; he wishes to court her with the intent of marriage." She smiled. "Lucy has never looked happier, I think." The Duke remained silent, his lips sealed. Beth swallowed. "I suppose another council meeting holds tomorrow, how was it today?" She asked. "It must be matters of extreme importance for the discussions to take so long." She repeated her statement, hoping he would finally speak, still nothing. "Are you not exhausted yet, My Lord?"

A moment. "Are you?" The Duke finally spoke, calmly and quietly.

Beth was confused. Why was the question returned to her? "No, I am not. As you said, I had been waiting." She flinched. Why had she said that? "I was surprised by your calling at my door."

"I apologize for calling you out."

Beth recoiled. Did he think her exhausted and annoyed at his call? "Your grace, it is silly to apologize. Had I not waited to meet, I would have said so. There is no need to apologize." She fidgeted, smiling grimly, desperately trying to meet his gaze. Trying to fathom what he was thinking about. She gave up and, like him, stared into the dark oblivion. Why was the night starless?

"Are you tired of my company?" He asked back.

"No, of course not." She said quickly. "But you have been up and about all day. I would be exhausted." She breathed out.

"Hmm." He grunted. "You are not tired of my company?"

Beth was a bit confused. What did he mean? "I don'tโ€ฆthink so. And we speak of you. Do not make this about me." She warned. He was particularly good at turning the conversation away from him and towards her. In that manner, he had found out things from her no one else should, although she had found out things from him too. Beth realized when with the Duke of Carlisle, one had to hold on to their wits and mental strength. "I thought you would be tired from the day's task so I didn't seek you out. It had nothing to do with wanting to see you or not." What was she saying? She was pathetic. He was still silent.

When he finally decided to speak, he said. "It felt strange not to have conversed with you for two days. I missed you."

Beth's heart missed a beat. Her head jerked back in the direction he stood, knowing not what to say. His sudden declaration disarmed her. Her mouth opened, but nothing coherent came out. Her stability shook, like she'd been on a maddened horse. How could he say such with an expression so serene? "My Lord?"

He was looking down at her. "Why do you suppose that is?"

Beth blinked and blinked again, her mouth opening and closing at will, no words coming out. Why would he ask her such a question? How was she to know the answer? Why would he miss her? "I_I don't know." She finally said, their gazes still on each other. "It would be best if you pose the question to yourself." She turned her eyes away. "You alone can provide the answer." What did he want her to say?

Silence.

"Hmm." He grunted. "Two days felt like years." His gaze was still on her. Beth stood rooted to the ground by his words; rooted and frozen. "I missed you, and was eager for your company. When you did not come, I came knocking, praying you would still be awake." His voice softened. "Even at this odd hour."

Dear Lord! Her heart slammed. His lips were moving and the words they formed troubled her sweetly. She couldn't think of a potent reply. Was he making advances at her? But was not their friendship grounded on their mutual disagreement of nuptial relationship. "I am-I am at a loss for words." She stuttered.

"My question has stunned you, Lady Beth." He said, whispering into the dark.

"Greatly, Your Grace." She was more than stunned.

He grunted again. "Hmm." The air became colder. The Duke lit another cigar. How many had he had? "But you confessed to enjoying my company?"

She was appalled. "Your Grace, I do!"

"I am glad." He murmured, his tone silken and impossibly intimate. The foot of the cigar blazed as he took a drag.

Beth touched her cheeks to find them hot. She was immensely glad for the darkness, for how could she ever explain her crimson cheeks? She felt terrible tension and heat. Trying, without success to steady her slightly ragged breathing before the Duke could be any the wiser, Beth coughed lightly. "I suppose the saying is true." Nothing. She decided to wait until he was curious enough to ask.

Another drag. "What saying?"

The sensible part of her warned her to refrain, but Beth was too stubborn to let go. "The dark is best for confessions."

He crossed to the other side of her. She tensed. The lantern now behind her, illuminating his face, gave Beth the chance she craved โ€“ to see him. "Do you have a confession, Beth?"

He called her by her given name. The manner in which he said it provoked her but not in the wrong way. Beth swallowed and exhaled. "I have a question." He turned to her, releasing a puff of smoke. His silence was him urging her on. She was grateful that she stood, silhouetted by the lamp for it gave her courage to venture her thoughts. "Why seek me out?"

The Duke took his time. "Why pose such a question?"

She refused her question to be sidelined. "You are a great man, one not only with title, but wealth and power; I am the daughter of an impoverished Land Baron. We are two worlds apart. Why seek for my hand of friendship?"

"Why do you think so?"

The air became tense and Beth felt like she couldn't breathe. The odd tension returned, filling her completely; that sensible part sounding yet another warning. She licked her lips. "Do you wish to make me your mistress?" The words rushed out of her. She closed her eyes, dreading his reply.

He said nothing for a long time, not a single word. When the stillness became prolonged and suffocating and Beth could no longer manage been anxious, she opened her eyes.

The Duke's gaze was upon her, terribly direct. "Do you wish to be my mistress?"

Her eyes blinked in quick succession. She was stunned. Did he intend to? She had noticed his intense eyes upon her two days before when they had visited the Stonehenge, and thought she had been mistaken. And although she knew what it meant, she had tried to ignore it. It was the true look of a man, one potent enough to make a woman swoon and discomfited. She would not be his mistress. Never! "Of course not."

"Neither do I." His eyes returned to the dark area. Then, "Do you suppose the reason I am so after you is to get someone to warm my bed?"

He was harsh. "I wish it not to be." But his looks said otherwise. "I really_"

He interrupted. "I can get many, many women, rolling over each other, eager to climb into my arms."

He was angry, Beth concluded. Unable to stop herself, she stole a quick look at his arms. They seemed strong, and powerful, enough to envelope any woman in a warm embrace. His fingers holding unto the cigar promised many adventures, the same she hadn't ventured out on, yet.

She licked her lips, embarrassed of her thoughts. When did she become so wanton? This was all the Duke's fault! "I never met to insult, but you can testify that Lord Cossington thought me your mistress, and I already dread what the King and the Prince think of me."

"Alexander and Brand are never unkind with their thoughts. They would believe me if I said you were my long, lost relative. But I have no reason to lie to them. They see right through me."

"Your Grace, I rea_"

He cut her short again. "And I would make Cossington pay for such vile thoughts." He swore.

Alarmed, Beth pleaded. "Please do not. I really do not wish for such. He is simply one of the many who would think so." She ran her hand through her hair. "That you do not seek to make me your mistress is enough."

Why had she presumed he had cast his eyes on her? Beth was awashed with embarrassment. She bowed to him. "I am sorry if my question was offensive, but I needed clarity. You never tell your thoughts, sometimes I think you are a complicated man and I cannot decipher you in the slightest way. I end up confused and you, misconstrued."

The Duke took another drag of his cigar. "Your personality and your mind, more than your body, intrigue me."

Beth did not know if she should be insulted or relieved. "Your words are kind." She said, nevertheless.

"Still, your body is beautiful." He added.