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Least Likely To Marry A Duke

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2019
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Fallen angel... I would like to fall with you... No, stop it. You know where that leads.

‘Miss Wingate.’ The Duke lowered his head further until their noses were almost touching. She felt his voice rumbling in his chest where they were pressed together. ‘Do you by any chance want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?’

‘I... Yes.’

Oh... What had happened to the starched-up, perfectly proper man? What had happened to her, for that matter? And then she stopped wondering and simply kissed him back. His mouth was warm and firm and, when she pressed against him, he licked between her lips, startling a moan of pleasure from her.

Verity came to herself to find they were sitting side by side on the log, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. ‘Your Grace...’

‘I think after that you had better call me Will.’ His voice was curiously husky, as though he was experiencing some strong emotion, not simply the after-effects of a kiss.

‘Will?’

‘Yes, Verity?’

A duke—this Duke—was asking her to call him by his first name. This Duke—Will—had just kissed her and she had kissed him back. So, what did that mean? That she was dreaming? That she had completely lost her grip on reality?


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