what?”
His mouth traced a path of kisses up the line of her throat. “If your skin is as smooth as I have fantasized it to be.” He nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear. “If your hair smells of jasmine.” He explored the heated skin of her cheek before hovering just above her mouth. “If your lips taste as sweet as they appear.”
“You must not…”
Her words were halted as he covered her mouth in a fierce, shockingly brazen kiss.
Leonida’s breath tangled in her throat and her heart forgot to beat as her lips parted beneath his insistent demand. Over the years she had occasionally been kissed by hopeful gentlemen. A few had even been quite skilled. But never had such a simple caress seared through her, melting her resistance with a terrifying ease.
His lips tasted of brandy, as if he had sipped the spirit before entering her room, and his tongue teased hers in an oddly erotic dance. She felt dizzy, his male scent stirring her senses as surely as the clever fingers that cupped her breast in a possessive gesture.
She shivered, her lips moving beneath his with a ready response she could not hide. This was precisely what she had desired from the moment she had laid eyes on the magnificent Duke of Huntley.
It was, at last, the achingly sweet excitement blooming in the pit of her stomach that sent up a shrill of alarm through her mind.
Mon Dieu.
She had devoted the entire morning to preparing herself to ignore Stefan’s intoxicating presence. Had she not paced her room at Hillside, listing all the reasons her attraction for the Duke was such a ghastly notion? Not the least of which was the risk of being distracted from her true reason for being in Meadowland.
And here she was, melting in his arms, just minutes after her bags had been unpacked.
Pressing her hands against his chest, Leonida turned her face from his devastating kiss.
“No…this is…”
“What?” he rasped, stroking his lips over the line of her jaw.
“Dangerous.”
He pulled back to regard her with smoldering eyes. “Are you afraid?”
Afraid? Her heart was pounding and her knees weak, but she knew that it was not from fear.
“I would be if I had any sense,” she muttered.
He searched her wide eyes, a stain of color splayed along his high cheekbones.
“Do you have a lover waiting for you in Russia?”
She stiffened at the harsh question. “Of course not.”
“It would not be so shocking, little dove. You are an exquisite temptation that few men could resist.”
“Just because my mother…”
He frowned as she allowed her defensive words to trail away. “This has nothing to do with your mother.”
With a wiggle, she slipped from his arms, her hand pressed to her churning stomach as she regarded him with a wary gaze.
“Please, your Grace, Sophy might return at any moment.” His expression hardened. “My name is Stefan.”
“Fine.” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “Stefan.”
“Until later.”
With a stiff bow, the Duke turned to make his way toward the door. Abruptly, Leonida realized she was about to allow a perfect opportunity to slip through her grasp.
“Your…” She swiftly corrected herself as Stefan turned to stab her with a warning frown. “Stefan.”
“Yes?”
“I hope you do not mind if I explore your beautiful home while I am here?”
Despite her determinedly casual tone he stilled at her request. He looked like…what? A predator that had spotted his prey?
“I will be pleased to take you on a tour before dinner.”
“No, I…” She halted to clear her throat. “I would not want to take you from your duties. I am quite capable of wandering around on my own.”
He offered a slow dip of his head. “As you wish.”
Waiting until he had left her chambers, Leonida moved to sink onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands as her body trembled with frustrated need.
“Mother, what have you gotten me into?” she muttered.
LEAVING THE IVORY CHAMBERS, Stefan was forced to halt and battle the desire that raged through him like wildfire.
Damn.
He had deliberately gone into Leonida’s room to catch her off guard. Not a particularly admirable ploy, but it had succeeded. A mere glance at her rummaging through the drawers of the dresser had proven she had been searching for something. Something she obviously thought was hidden at Meadowland.
Not that he could imagine what it might be.
And within a few moments in her company, he no longer gave a bloody hell.
At the mere sight of her standing next to the bed, her jasmine scent filling his senses, he had been lost.
If she had not pushed him away, he would have taken her then and there.
Christ, he wished that he had taken her. At least then his body would not be aroused to the point of pain.
“Sir.”
The familiar voice of his butler was nearly as good as being tossed in the middle of a freezing lake.
The savage need faded—although he suspected it would never be truly gone, at least not until he had Leonida spread beneath him—and he was able to turn to face his servant with a measure of composure.
“Yes, Goodson?”
“It may be nothing, but I thought you should know.”
“What is it?”
“Benjamin caught two ruffians in the copse of woods just south of the house.”
Stefan frowned. “Poachers?”
Goodson gave a lift of his hands. “They claimed they were staying in the local village and were merely admiring the grounds.”
“Were they armed?”
“Yes, and Benjamin claimed they spoke with a strange accent.” There was a deliberate pause. “He was certain it wasn’t French.”
Stefan clenched his hands. Foreigners. Were they connected to Leonida?
There was only one means
