Dare to Be a Duchess, page 9
“Wait a minute. You are not leaving here thinking that I really wanted to kiss you,” Wolf protested. “In fact, if the situation was to be repeated, then I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last woman alive.”
Oh, that was rich. Lara paused, turning fully to face him, and blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Prove it.”
For a moment, she was as shocked by what she had said as he was, and then she realized it was perfect. If he did kiss her, then she would prove to him that she was attractive and desirable, and if he didn’t kiss her—which meant that he had proved her wrong—she would hate him thoroughly, and that’s what she wanted. Her mind boggled at its own twisted logic, but she had laid out the challenge, and she wasn’t backing off.
His eyes widened. “You cannot seriously think that I want to kiss you right now.”
“Is that so?” Lara raised a single brow. “Come close to me, and let’s see if you can resist me. If you’re not the least bit tempted to touch me, you win.”
For a moment, Wolf stood in place, but with a resolved look on his face, he marched forward, closer to her. Only his determination seemed to waver once he reached her. His hands on her waist, Wolf brought her body close to his own gently, like she was made of the finest crystal. Then he went absolutely still and stared at her, as if making up his mind.
Irritation flowed through her. The thought that he insisted he wasn’t attracted to her really didn’t sit well with her, so before giving him a chance to push her away, Lara put her hands around his neck and looked straight into his eyes.
The muscles of his shoulders flexed. His gray eyes turned stormy, and Wolf leaned closer to her and inhaled her scent.
“Damn me to hell,” he groaned and covered her mouth with his.
Wolf pressed dozens of little kisses on her lips, nipping them then soothing with his tongue. He made a clean sweep across her lips, and she gasped. Using her shock to his advantage, he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, and Lara felt her blood sizzle.
“You taste delicious,” Wolf said, licking her lips once more before he again plundered her mouth.
She struggled to maintain reality. She had proved her point and she should now stop this right away. But when his tongue touched hers, all reason vanished, and she kissed him back. Her hands tightened around his neck as his mouth meshed with hers in a dance as ancient as time.
She lost all ability to think, only to want instead, and she wanted more. A lot more. There was an ache spreading through her body, and she wanted relief. Her hands roamed his back and settled on the back of his head, drawing him closer to her. Lara pushed herself against the hard wall of his chest, and a pained sound escaped his lips.
His hands roamed across her back, stroking her, caressing her up and down, and then finally they settled on the soft mounds of her buttocks, lifting her off the ground and pushing her pelvis up against him. The hard ridge of his desire pressed into her. Heat blossomed in her most feminine part and spread through every inch of her body. He smelled of horses and hay and that faintly spicy musk of his that elevated her growing need. Her lips joined his in a frenzy of open-mouthed kisses that he gave and she sought. He led and she followed.
His growing arousal pressed into her through all the layers separating them. He moved once and then again and again. Desire rose up into her as a burning ache spread from right where he was rubbing against her womanhood to the rest of her body. Her hands ran through his hair, ruffling it, reveling in doing just what she had wanted to do since she had entered his house.
Suddenly, he tore his mouth from hers and pushed away from her. They stared at each other for a whole moment while their ragged breaths slowly faded back to normal.
Wolf broke the silence. “I guess you proved your point. So I will not apologize this time.”
He strode out of the stables and back to the house, practically dragging her alongside him. Lara had no time to even gather her dispersed senses or ponder over what had once again transpired between them before the duchess intercepted them just outside the morning room.
She took one look at the two of them together, and her lips set in a hard line. She didn’t smile at either of them, didn’t wait for Lara to congratulate or even greet her. She simply turned and marched inside the morning room where Camille and Anne were still conversing. Lara took a seat on the armchair facing her friends. She waited for Wolf to leave, but he took the seat opposite her instead, adding to her consternation.
Lara couldn’t for the life of her understand what was being spoken around her, and twice she had to ask Anne to repeat her question. But Wolf sat unfazed through it all. She watched him answer each and every question pointed his way like nothing of import had occurred in the stables. And it probably hadn’t been significant for him. Meanwhile, her mind kept spinning in circles as her body flushed hot and cold reliving every detail of their encounter. Stupid of her to think that she could challenge a wolf and emerge unscathed.
Wolf caught her stare, and Lara blushed. His lips twitched, and a corner of his mouth lifted up in a lazy smirk. Damn the man for knowing exactly how confused she felt.
She turned away, and her gaze clashed with the duchess’s. The woman had been unusually silent today, and she kept throwing Lara sidelong glances. Was something wrong with her hair? She surreptitiously raised her hand to her head and heaved a sigh of relief when she realized all was in order. Deciding this must be another of the duchess’s mood swings, Lara forced herself to pay the woman no heed and concentrate on Anne discussing her guest list for the engagement.
“Anne, is there any more of that apple pie left?” Wolf asked abruptly, interrupting his sister.
Anne’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when do you like apple pie, Wolf? I thought you don’t like cinnamon.”
“It’s a recently acquired taste,” Wolf remarked, taking the plate from Anne. Taking a bite, he swept his tongue across his lips and looked straight at Lara. “It tastes delicious.”
Hot flames engulfed her skin. Lara had to literally hold her hands together to prevent fanning herself. He had used the exact same words while he had tasted her mouth, and now he was teasing her. She glared at him.
“Really?” Lara snapped. “And here I thought you were unwavering in your tastes and views. Changing colors, Wolf?”
He raised a single brow. “No, just learning to enjoy hitherto forbidden delights.”
Once again, he had managed to completely shut that sharp mouth of hers. His hidden innuendo had only served to aggravate her more, which was exactly what he’d been trying to do. Chest heaving, her lips set in a pretty moue, and trying to look anywhere but at him, Lara was certainly flustered. That he was the cause of her discomfiture was all the more amusing.
Neither of them could now deny this attraction that had flared between them. What he was going to do about that was another thing altogether. That thought he decided to put away for another time. At this moment, he was quite enjoying watching her and the myriad expressions that were playing on her lovely face as she tried hard not to look at him.
When the girls took their leave, Wolf rose as well and bowed over their hands, lingering over Lara’s. Snatching her hand away, she followed Anne and Camille outside.
It had been worth not going to his club today.
Before he could exit the parlor, the duchess called out to him. “Just a minute, Wolverton.”
Sighing, he turned to face his mother. “Your Grace, what can I do for you?”
His mother took an irate step forward. “You can start by telling me that you are not thinking lascivious thoughts about that half-breed girl.”
His eyes glittered, but Wolf responded calmly. “She has a name, and it’s Lara. I would request you to use it and not insult an innocent girl for no fault of hers. And as for me, I’m not answerable to you. I never have nor shall I ever be.”
“I saw how you watched her every move. You had that look in your eyes, the same look your father had when he went after a woman.”
Wolf frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You heard me. Do not make me repeat myself. Your father created scandal after scandal by consorting with every woman he lusted after—theater actresses, servants, and even married ladies of the ton. You know that is what killed him in the end. I dealt with him and his debauched behavior every single day while he was alive. I will not allow you to tarnish the family name by lusting after a lowborn Indian girl. I will not allow you to follow your father’s footsteps and disgrace our family.”
He was not like his father. Yes, he bed women, but only those willing and never innocents like Lara, no matter how much he hungered after said innocent.
Although he didn’t share a warm relationship with the duchess, he did sympathize with all she had been through, thanks to his sire. “I know my father was flawed. I know he courted scandal, enjoyed it even, like you have told me all my life. You need to understand that I am nothing like him.”
The duchess laughed. “You are more like him than you think. You want her, and you will stop at nothing to have her.”
His heart skipped a beat, and Wolf prayed his mother’s words remained false. Because the more he met Lara, the more he seemed to desire her. So much so that all he could think of day in and day out was stripping her bare, laying her down on his bed, and making love to her till the only word escaping from her lush mouth was his name in complete and utter rapture, again and again.
“Remember this: she is a complete nobody,” his mother said. “You may bed her, but you can never marry her. I will never allow a girl with mixed blood to be the next Duchess of Wolverton. You need to marry and fulfill your responsibility to your title. Marry Lady Amelia Pemberley. She has the right blood lines and is perfectly groomed to be a duchess.”
Wolf shuddered.
Agreed, Amelia Pemberley was the perfect English girl. She did have the right family background as well. That was her only redeeming quality, however. She was only nineteen, way too young for him, and a spoiled brat. Just because he hardly ventured in the social ballrooms didn’t mean he didn’t have ears and eyes everywhere. Great power came with the right knowledge. He wielded both like a sword.
“I’m not ready to marry, and even when I am, I will never marry Amelia Pemberley. I will choose my own bride, and you will have no say in that.”
She laughed without humor. “When it comes to your marriage and the next duchess, you may be sure I will.”
He would never allow his mother to control him. Ever. And the duchess knew that. She hadn’t had a say in his life in more than a decade, and that wouldn’t change no matter what she told him. With a final glance at her, he turned on his heel and exited the parlor.
Chapter Twelve
It was a fine morning for a ride, Lara thought as she galloped faster and deeper into Hyde Park. The wind ruffled her hair, and the loose ribbon that she had hastily tied unwound, and her hair flowed down her back. Thankfully, there was no one around at this early hour, and she could get away with her hair flying behind her just the way she liked. She gave her horse, Maximus, his neck and let him run, enjoying the speed. The groom who had accompanied her increased the pace of his own horse to catch up to her. She gave him a sympathetic smile and urged her horse forward, leaving him behind in the dust.
She felt bad for the poor man. He had to follow her at this early an hour, but she needed this. She wanted to be alone in her thoughts, and riding her horse with the wind on her face made it easier to analyze her complex feelings for one complicated duke.
She had been dreaming of him several nights in a row now, and each night her dreams were getting more intense, more erotic. Her encounter yesterday with Wolf weighed heavily on her mind, and she blamed herself for the disastrous outcome. Goading him to kiss her and thus proving her point was definitely not a victory. She remembered his kisses far too well and her own reaction to them as well. The situation was doomed enough already, and she had made it more so when she let her pride get in the way. Why had she not simply accepted his apology and gone on with her life as if nothing had happened?
She slowed her horse at the turn to the Serpentine, and within seconds, Maximus came to a halt. Scratching his neck, she let him be for a while. She chewed her lower lip, feeling defeated. She had only herself to blame. She shouldn’t have kissed him at Madame Delacour’s. If she hadn’t, there would have been nothing to continue. No subsequent kisses in gardens or stables. No erotic dreams about Wolf.
Lara groaned. Why did she have to be attracted to him? This was Wolf. Nothing could ever happen between them, no matter how many kisses they had shared. She had to forget about his kisses and her own unbelievable reaction to them.
Sometime in the near future, some lucky woman would catch his eye, and all his smoldering intensity would be focused upon her. Instinctively, Lara felt an absolute burning hatred for that nameless, faceless, yet unknown woman. And then she chided herself for having any feelings on that matter at all.
The next time she met him, she had to pretend everything was fine. She prayed that with time this hopeless attraction she felt for him would die on its own because any other alternative would be disastrous for her.
Besides, Uncle Robert was not relenting on the marriage ultimatum, and instead of fantasizing about Wolf, she ought to search for a husband. But who amongst the ton would accept her? There was not one man amongst that lot she even wanted to marry. There was only one option left. If she wanted to get married, she would have to step outside the confines of the ton, again. Either that or convince Wolf to drop the marriage ultimatum altogether. Maybe Uncle Robert would give her some space if Wolf weren’t adamant about it. She swiped the curl on her face away, and as usual, it fell back on her face.
Her fanciful musings were interrupted when she heard a rider thundering down on her. At first, she thought it was Myles, her groom, but this rider was coming from the opposite direction. A second later, she recognized the man atop the white mare, and her hand flew to her chest.
Wolf.
Wolf dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, urging her to fly with the wind, and the Arabian did not disappoint. Since Pegasus was out of action, he had chosen Nyla, a beautiful white mare, to ride this morning. He needed to clear his head from thoughts of a trouble-causing minx.
His conversation with his mother the previous day had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had thought long and hard about what she’d said. In the end, he had berated himself for being enthralled by Lara, because no matter the fact that he hardly ever saw eye to eye with the duchess, he had to admit she was right. He couldn’t marry Lara under any circumstance because that would bring an even bigger scandal onto the Wolverton name. Their dynasty was one of the oldest in the country, and while people easily forgave a philandering duke like his father, no one would accept an Indian girl as a duchess. Perhaps for once he ought to take his mother’s advice and marry Amelia Pemberley.
However, none of these churning thoughts had stopped him from fantasizing about Lara, and after waking up from yet another torrid dream about her, he had stormed out of the house for a ride to clear his mind.
A lone rider in the distance caught his attention, a woman perched regally atop a black stallion. Drawing close to her, he saw her swipe a hand against an errant curl that refused to move away from her face and recognized Lara in an instant.
His heart gave an unfamiliar lurch, and he slowed his horse as he neared her. Of all distractions he did not need today… And yet, she was thrown in his path again as if by fate.
Reaching her, he circled her once and then twice. She looked fresh in the navy-blue riding habit that hugged her generous curves. Flouting all the rules once again, she was hatless, her dark hair flowing in the breeze down her back. He itched to run his hands through those long tresses. With her healer instincts and that glorious mane, Lara was indeed Rhiannon, the beautiful Welsh Horse Goddess.
Lara raised her chin and greeted him. “Good morning.”
He looked beyond her. “Where’s your groom?”
“Myles is there behind, waiting for me.” Lara pointed to her groom in the distance.
Nodding, he turned his horse around, intent upon leaving her and the temptation she presented to him. But before he could do so, Lara called out to him, “Wolf, please wait. I want to talk to you.”
He gave her a sidelong glance.
“Please,” Lara requested. “Walk with me. I need to rest my horse. I’m afraid my thundering around this morning may have tired him.”
At her soft entreaty, he got off his horse. Reaching closer to her, he held his arms out. Instead, Lara jumped off her horse in a smooth move and stood in front of him.
She was so bold and brave. That stray curl once again escaped, and without thinking, Wolf stepped closer to her and tucked it behind her ear. His hand lingered on her satiny cheek. She raised her eyes to his, and he was spellbound by how the beautiful hue of her eyes darkened to teal with each second that passed. This tug of attraction between them was live and palpitating, pleading with him to take what he could never have.
She blinked, and the spell that wound around them dissolved. Letting out a deep breath, Wolf gathered the reins of both the horses and wound them around a branch. He returned to Lara and gave her his arm.
They walked in silence for a few minutes until Lara said, “Wolf, please can you release me from the marriage ultimatum?”
Wolf all but stumbled to a stop.
This morning, he had woken up determined to put Lara out of his head once and for all. But seeing her again was threatening to break all the resolves he had made. He had no doubt he’d be desperate to kiss her again if he lingered too long.
But Lara’s reminder had just given him a solution to his quandary. If she found someone to marry—or he found someone for her—he would be free of this lunacy that gripped him when she was near. Yes, he needed her married and settled so she was out of his reach.
