The Duke's Twin novel Chapter 9

"Oh!" She leapt to her feet, knocking the easel over.

Wiltshire dove to catch the painting. "Your elephant!"

"Leave it. We must get out of the rain." She had already reached for his hand before she gave it a second thought.

His fingers laced through hers as he took the lead. "Of course. This way."

They dashed up the slippery green grass from the lake and headed into the gardens. Her parents, sister, and Mr. Beresford all ran back toward the manor. There was a small white gazebo cloaked in climbing ivy and adorned with pale-pink roses. Wiltshire grasped her by the waist and hoisted her up the set of steps and into the center of the structure. Her dress was soaked through, and a shiver racked her. He shrugged out of his coat and helped her put it on. The scent of sandalwood mixed with leather teased her nose. A fluttery warmth stirred in her chest as she snuggled deeper into his coat.

"There. That's better." He stepped back, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "I'm sorry about your elephant."

"It wasn't an elephant!" She shoved him with a little laugh. And just like that, something changed between them. His eyes lit with a hunger that both frightened and excited her. His tall, warm body was too enticing to resist. She tiled her head back, her lips parting as their gazes locked.

He reached for her, drawing her into his arms, and took her mouth with his. The kiss was sudden and wild. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, but she tried everything, loving the freedom she felt of exploring him. And to her surprise, she felt no judgment from him of her lack of experience. If anything, he seemed ready to teach her.

His lips taunted, teased, and played with hers, instructing her how to respond. She learned each lesson well, drinking in the irresistible longing and desire she'd tried in vain to repress since the moment she'd met him. His hands roamed her body, his touch light but leaving fire in its wake. She liked the way he touched her, the way he cupped one breast, gently kneading it, then his other hand gripping her bottom, squeezing it.

She felt owned by him, his hands caressing and holding her possessively. Eager to feel the same toward him, she slid her palms up his chest, then dug her nails lightly into his shoulders and ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He shuddered against her and kissed her harder than before. Was this actually happening? Did the duke truly desire her?