Her Tempestuous Duke by Elizabeth Keysian

Author:Elizabeth Keysian [Keysian, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Minerva was not one to pick a fight, or rage, or throw a tantrum. But she knew full well that, if she were to be considered worthy of the title of lady, she must slap Parys’ cheek.

But there was no fighting this man. She sensed his hunger, his pain, and couldn’t summon the willpower to resist him. The touch of his lips on hers was intoxicating, the feel of his muscular chest crushing her breasts—exhilarating. He made every inch of her feel alive, beautiful, desirable.

He broke the kiss long before she’d finished relishing the exquisite sensations he aroused. She was set down, well away from him, still stunned by her reaction. She dared not look him in the eyes lest he be aware of her body’s betraying response.

She couldn’t remember when she’d last been held. She’d certainly never been embraced like that. If nothing else came out of this adventure, of one thing, she was certain. She wanted to be held again.

“My apologies. That was not the behavior of a gentleman.” His tone was harsh.

No. But it was the behavior of a man who’d lived alone, eaten up by bitterness, and deprived of everything he’d once held dear. Parys Pendorran had been betrayed—and starved of loyalty and love.

That he was still capable of passion was clear from his kiss. That he could still love was suggested by the memorial to his mother in the beehive hut.

“You are forgiven. Of that, at any rate.” She tangled her fingers together, desperate to dispel thoughts of wicked passion and endless embraces. If she fell apart the first time a man touched her, she was no better than her alleged mother, a woman who’d been generous with her favors.

If there was any of her purported father’s courage in her, she needed it now.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for thinking so ill of Lord Anthony, however. Your tale is grim, but your accusations are grimmer still. What could have forced your brother to take such a desperate measure against you?”

“Why must you side with him, despite what I’ve told you?” The resentment in his voice tore at her.

Because Lord Anthony was all she knew—he was familiarity, comfort, security. The man before her was alien and disturbing in so many ways.

“Neither of us has heard his side of the story. There may be some part of the picture missing here. All I ask is that you speak to him. Call off your dog, release your prisoners and discuss the matter like the nobleman you are.”

If he felt any guilt at having kissed and held her in so intimate a manner, then he owed her something. She was unaccustomed to using guile, but three men’s lives rested in Parys Pendorran’s hands. She must use whatever weapons she had at her disposal, or she’d never forgive herself.

“I can’t do that. I’ve waited too long for this.” His tone was as hard as Cornish granite.

She glared at him, no longer coy. He returned her look directly—any guilt he felt for kissing her was clearly gone.

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