Kate Farrow doesn’t care what anybody thinks.
Her own mother ran off with a lover when Kate was just a young girl. Now her father has a different fate in store for her with his heart set on a union with the loathsome Duke of Westmoore. Still, how can she—a beautiful, proper, London-society woman—just pick up and run off with George Langsley? Too handsome for his own good, and a well-known rake to boot, he is surely not marriage material for Kate. But George ignites a passion in her that she cannot deny. Is her desire worth the risk?
KISS ME, KATE
by Tiffany Clare
Chapter 1
London, 1824
“What do you think you are doing, George!” The admonishment Kate Farrow hoped to display was lost when a giggle emerged.
George edged them both off the garden path and away from the other guests admiring the rose blooms in the vast gardens surrounding them. His hands were light about her hips as he guided her in the exact direction he wanted to go. There was a fire burning in his dark brown eyes and an added intensity in his expression; his jaw was squared and his resolve to herd her away from the party could not be mistaken. Because she was so tall for a woman, he stood only a few inches above her, which made it easy to reach out and touch him. His face was smooth-shaven, his skin darker from spending time in the sun, strands of blond streaked through his normally light brown hair. He didn’t rush her backward steps as she silently greeted him with her hands, but his body braced around hers should she stumble on the dark path.
“What’s come over you?” she asked quietly, in case anyone was nearby.
“You, darling.” With his hands on either side of her face, he pressed his lips to hers. She sank into that touch with all the desperation that had built inside her since his absence. “It’s been far too long since we saw each other, Kate.”
“You’ve gone mad.”
Though should she admit it, she’d gone a little mad in his absence, too. They were so utterly in love with each other that it was as though a form of insanity had ensnared them.
Kate slipped out of his grasp and ran farther into the hedging dotting the back gardens of the property. If they were going to steal away for a few moments, they might as well ensure they were completely alone. George had shipped out to the West Indies four months ago, and she felt selfish enough to occupy all his attention this evening, even if he’d only just arrived home this afternoon.
George didn’t let her escape far; he caught her under an ivy-covered arbor that shaded them like they were in a private grotto. He clasped her hand and spun her around before catching her in his arms once again. This time when his mouth descended upon hers, it was more demanding than the innocent touching of lips they’d just shared.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said as their lips parted and her tongue darted out to taste him.
“Come away from London with me, Kate.” George brought one hand around her back to pull her closer. She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart. “I can’t wait a moment longer to have you for my own.”
“You know I can’t do any such thing.” She had insisted on a proper proposal and engagement because it was a well-known fact that her mother had run off with her lover when Kate was a young girl. “It would break my father’s heart if I followed in my mother’s footsteps.”
“You are a far cry from repeating your mother’s mistakes. This is different. What can I do to convince you of that?” George ran his hand down the length of her back, causing a shiver of excitement and contentment to run through her whole body. “Besides, I won’t stand for you marrying that pompous ass Westmoore.”
She raised her head and gave him a brazen grin. “I think you’re jealous, George.”
“Hell yes.”
When his voice carried around them, she covered it with her
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