Just Miss Agatha

Chapter 7

The Duke pulled away, his dark eyes assessing her. "Who were you married to?"

"Pardon?"

His penetrating gaze seemed to study her as though he were beholding her anew. In a decisive gesture, he removed his mask and tossed it aside, revealing his striking and handsome countenance to her eager eyes. However, she felt no compulsion to do the same. Her mask remained in place, veiling around her eyes and gracefully resting on the bridge of her nose.

She looked down, realizing he thought her a widow. This was Madame Anne de Balbi's dress, who strutted in the streets pretending to be a widow. It was not the dressing of a debutant looking for a man who would court a respectable lady, nor a married woman already tied down. She might have passed for a mistress, but her refined demeanor, which was meticulously instilled by her mother, led him to believe otherwise.

He took her silence for lack of want to answer. Neglecting the talking altogether, he was on her again. He crushed her lips with his, but she went rigid. Her mouth shut tight as she shoved against his chest.

He abruptly pulled away, making no effort to conceal his evident annoyance and displeasure. His facial expression practically contorted with a scowl, leaving no doubt about his irritation.

With those threatening looks, if she changed her mind, would he let her go? She doubted it.

"No kissing," she said. Otherwise, she would feel like the cheater she was.

"Huh," he derided.

Using the back of her neck, he pulled her to him and worked on the shell of her ear. The Duke nibbled tenderly, softly stroking the back of it till he slid down to the hollow arc of her neck. She moaned, and that is when he rushed back to her mouth.

From that moment onward, everything spiraled into chaos. He seized her lips with an aggressive fervor, utilizing the opportunity to invade her mouth when she gasped in shock.

With a confident and forceful sweep, he tangled his tongue with hers, forging a connection that left her breathless. The kiss was rough and scorching, and despite the guilt that gnawed at her conscience, she couldn't deny the surge of desire that coursed through her. No one had ever kissed her with such intensity, not even—

No. No thinking about him. Then she would feel like a harlot.

However, his audacity in not heeding her demands ignited a surge of indignation within her. In a bold act of defiance, she sank her teeth into his probing tongue, causing him to abruptly withdraw with a wince of pain. A deep frown creased his features momentarily, but then, to her astonishment, it gave way to a broad and unanticipated smile—one that revealed the gleam of his teeth. It was the first genuine smile he had exhibited that entire evening.

"I fancy you," he mused.

He did not bother with her lips anymore. He tore at her bodice to reveal her breasts and feasted on her as one would at a banquet. In the same span of time, he bunched up her skirts and ripped her undergarments.

Awareness of his fingers sliding over her mound's lips made her tremble. He stroked once or twice before pulling out his hand.

"Funny. You are not drenching as I would like."

Her teeth clenched in frustration. She did not expect all of it to be so overwhelming. She disliked his ego and arrogance as well.

"We can change that," he muttered. "I will show you, Scarlet. You will be gushing like a river when I'm inside you."

He grabbed her and pushed her down until they fell side by side on the ground. Alarming bells started to ring in her mind.

"Unhand me," she told him.