A Duke's Wicked Kiss (Entangled Select) by Kathleen Bittner Roth Page A

wonder Juliet took the poison. She was suddenly every woman who ever desired a man, a harlot, a saint…a…a half-caste.
    Her heart collapsed into itself at the sobering thought. Yes, she was in reality only a half-caste kissing a duke in a way that shouted he could have her, that he could lay her on the floor and do with her whatever he wished. And she would willingly oblige. But she could never possess him, at least not in the way she wanted him. Damn her for being what she was. A sob tore loose from her throat and emptied into his mouth.
    He pulled his head back, his eyes searching hers. “What?”
    Surely he saw the sheen of tears, for his fingers caressed her cheek and he planted a ghost-soft kiss on her nose. “What is it, darling?”
    “I cannot. I am not made of this.”
    His brow creased. “Made of what?”
    She pushed at his chest. “Leave me be. Go find another…”
    His jaw clenched and his brow creased. “Are you insinuating I want nothing but a few moments of pleasure with you?”
    “What else could it be?”
    He studied her for a moment before his jaw relaxed and the look in his eyes softened. He smoothed loose strands of her hair in place with fingers that were gentle, so very gentle it hurt. “Perhaps this is a continuation of something splendid that began ten years ago.” A small grin touched his mouth. “Too bad things took so long.”
    “We don’t know each other—”
    He pressed a finger to her lips. “Hush. We’ve known each other far longer than either one of us cared to admit up till now. I never forgot that day, and if you’ll acknowledge it, neither have you. I tried to see you again, but your father forbade it. Were you aware of that?”
    You tried to see me again? Too startled to speak, she only shook her head.
    “I didn’t think so. He’d heard about what went on in the stable, cut all ties with both me and my brother and swore to run me through if I ever came within ten feet of you again.”
    Oh, she couldn’t stand this. He’d been second in line back then, a duke now. For God’s sake, why was he carrying on so?
    A crooked grin tipped a corner of his mouth. “When I heard you were in Delhi, I thought to see you out of curiosity, but the moment I laid eyes on you, there I was again, mesmerized.”
    He planted a kiss on her forehead, one so tender it made her want to cry out. Surely, he had no idea of the pain his words inflicted. If he didn’t stop this insanity, her nerves would snap. He was a duke, for pity’s sake and she was…well, she was nothing of consequence. “You are being rash, reciting things in the heat of the moment you don’t mean—cannot possibly mean.”
    “I never recite poetry in the heat of the moment, darling. I wasn’t born in a cabbage patch, either. I know what I want, and it isn’t a roll here on the carpet, only to walk away sated for the moment with nothing to show for it but a few carpet burns on my knees.”
    She began to shake. She had to do something—say something—to make him go away before the real tears took hold and all control was lost. “Stop. Please, this is too much.”
    With a push at his shoulder, he released her from her cage. He folded his arms over his chest and raised a brow. “Would it be so wrong to satisfy a desire that burns like a fever between us?”
    “I do not want you, Your Grace,” she lied, and tilted her chin in defiance. “You kiss well enough, but that is all I wondered about…if it was anything like the first after all these years.”
    He stepped back. Something complex flashed across his features. “I’ll leave you be, if you insist, but wasn’t it you who spoke of destiny?”
    Her knees weren’t going to hold her up forever. “You imply a destiny? What, me as your mistress? I think not. Do not come near me again. Tantalizing as it was, there is nothing further I could possibly want from you. We are finished with our little experiment.”
    A bark of laughter rolled out of him as he opened