Chapter 5 #2
“I do have some good qualities, Miss Quinten,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower.
The vibration made her skin prickle. It was not enough for him, it seemed.
He reached out to cup her jaw, his rough thumb tracing the soft skin as if it belonged to him.
“I am loyal to my friends. I am honest, and I can be quite persuasive.”
“Persuasive? How exactly do you use that, Your Grace? Do you also include drinking a cellar dry? Making a spectacle of yourself?”
With every word that came out of her mouth, Cathy felt even more guilty. It was her father she thought of when she said those things. Both she and her father had made spectacles of themselves. It was not just the Duke.
“No, let me show you what I mean.”
This time, though, Tristan did not answer with words.
Instead, he reached out and cupped her jaw.
To her surprise, she did not recoil. His hands were calloused for a duke, and gentle for a rake.
It was then that she realized she liked the roughness.
When he leaned down to press his mouth to hers, she just let him.
It was not a chaste kiss, not at all. Instead, it was hungry and feral.
Her first instinct was to fight back, but the moment he deepened the kiss, she was caught.
Everything seemed to sway around her. Her hands were meant to push him away, but they grabbed his lapels instead.
Yes, she was pulling him closer as she surged forward.
A moan erupted from her throat as their tongues touched. His lips swallowed the broken sound.
At that moment, she forgot everything else.
She could no longer think of the scandal, her father’s drinking, and everything else that hinged on her behaving like a proper lady.
She was too focused on his lips against hers and the solid planes of his chest that pressed her against the wood behind her.
For the first time, she found herself not wanting to escape.
When he finally pulled away from the kiss, his breath came in pants. Her breath was just as ragged. Then, he looked at her, searching her eyes for an answer to his question. “Did that persuade you?”
Cathy’s face turned red. She realized what the kiss was all about, and it felt like a resounding slap. The Duke was not caught up in an act of passion, but was merely proving a point. She shoved him as she tried to take back some of her shredded dignity.
“No,” she snapped. She was shocked and even more embarrassed to find her voice shaking. “I was not persuaded, and I find it appalling that you stand in front of me the day before you are to be married, and kiss me. The scandal sheets were right about you.”
“Your mouth responded differently,” he remarked. “It was telling me something else.”
“I...” Cathy cried. “My mouth was merely startled by your... your lack of character, Your Grace!”
Silence fell between them. She was afraid she was leaning back into the false intimacy that had made her kiss him in the first place, and she did not trust herself with what she would do if he touched her again.
“I told you I do not want to marry Miss Longrove,” the Duke repeated his sentiment from earlier. “In fact, I do not want to marry at all. My life is all about meetings and ceremonies. That is not the life I wanted.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He paused, clenching his jaw so hard she swore she could hear his teeth grinding together.
“Despite what you think about me, I am a man of my word. My mother used her final breath to ensure I marry a woman of impeccable standing so that I would provide the Baxter line with an heir. Marrying Miss Longrove is simply a way to fulfill my promise to her. But sometimes I feel... I feel that I am making a terrible mistake.”
Cathy looked at him. Her mouth gaped at the man who was revealing what he felt. It was not something he was known for, but perhaps it was the forced proximity that was causing it.
“I think I can sympathize with that,” she confessed. “My grandmama thinks that if I marry, it will solve all our problems. For me, marriage is a trap, but my family needs it. My sisters would benefit from it.”
“It looks like we are both trapped,” Tristan murmured.
“In more ways than one,” Cathy said. “But this does not justify this immoral behavior, Your Grace, we should not—”
Their eyes turned to the door, which suddenly burst open.
Brandon stumbled in. Like Tristan, his cravat was askew. He was completely flustered, his face red.
“Tristan? Miss Quinten? What are you two doing in here?”
“It appears that we have been locked inside by someone, and on purpose,” Tristan replied, his eyes squinting at his friend. “What about you? You look as if you have run through the whole estate.”
Cathy followed his gaze. She thought something was wrong with Lord Farstone, very much so.
“Me? I...” Brandon echoed, even as his eyes flitted back to the corridor. “Of course not. I... I was looking for you. Um, for dinner. I mean, for the parlor games.”
Cathy did not want to hear the rest of the exchange.
The air was too thick with tension. She slipped past Lord Farstone and quickly disappeared through the corridor, with her head down, hoping that nobody else would see her.