To Bed a Beaty

so far beneath you-”

He cut off her tirade in midstream. “First, Mother, it is not your place to tell me what bride to choose. And second, I cannot do better than Miss Loring.”

“Well, you must, because I will not give my blessing to such an unequal arrangement.”

He returned his mother’s haughty stare measure for measure. “You will, or you will remove to the dower house in the morning.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Certainly I would dare. I’ll order your personal belongings carried there and have you barred from the Castle before I return to London. My staff will obey my wishes, you know they will.”

The duchess paled, gaping at him in fury.

Throughout their argument, Roslyn had remained silent, but now she intervened.

“Drew,” Roslyn said in a low voice. “It doesn’t matter. I have never desired to climb any higher in society. I am perfectly content where I am.”

“It damn well matters to me.”

Nearly quivering with rage, the duchess rose to her feet. “You will not swear in my presence, sirrah, do I make myself clear?”

Rising just as abruptly, Drew held out his hand to Roslyn. “Come, sweetheart, I cannot stay here another moment without succumbing to the urge to do murder.”

His mother gasped in outrage, but Drew paid her no attention as he pulled Roslyn from the room. Without stopping, he stalked through the house to the library, Roslyn still in tow.

She made no objection to his rapid pace, but by the time he pushed open the French doors and escaped onto the terrace, she was a trifle breathless. It was only then that Drew realized he had let his wrath get the better of him. Usually he managed to control his fierce urge to throttle his mother by determinedly ignoring her.

Muttering an apology, he dropped Roslyn’s hand and crossed the terrace to the stone balustrade, where he stared out at the stately gardens. A full moon had just risen, so the peaceful view was a stark contrast to the anger roiling inside him.

He sensed more than saw Roslyn move to stand beside him.

Her tone was hesitant, wary, when she finally spoke. “I don’t wish to come between you and your mother, Drew.”

“You haven’t come between us,” he said through gritted teeth. “We have been at loggerheads for years. Normally I let her have her way-but not this time.”

“I think you are making too much of the matter. I don’t want or need her approval. And I should think you wouldn’t, either.”

“I don’t want it for myself, but for you. She can assure your place in society if she chooses to.”

“But truly, it doesn’t matter to me. And I certainly don’t want you to battle over it. It is too distressing. Perhaps I’m craven, but my parents’ battles left me with a dread of strife.”

Drew felt his heart twist. His ire had reached the boiling point with his mother’s implacable view of her consequence and her tyrannical need to govern anyone who came into her realm. But he had no right to take his anger out on Roslyn.

Turning, he reached down to take her hand and bring it to his lips. “Forgive me, sweeting. I should not have let my temper get the best of me.”

She smiled up at him tentatively. “Well…you did have grave provocation. But I doubt the local magistrate would look kindly upon the murder of a duchess. Especially one so closely related to you.”

His lips curved faintly at her forced attempt at humor, but all his thoughts faded when his gaze came to rest on Roslyn’s upturned face. In the moonlight, her beauty caught him like a sharp blow.

His heart started to pound as he stared at her. As want, need, desire suddenly filled him.

Without conscious thought, he leaned closer. He wasn’t supposed to touch her. He’d promised himself he would employ romance to woo her, not seduction. But he couldn’t bear to let another moment pass without tasting her, touching her.

Unable to help himself, Drew lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her slowly, letting his tongue slide inside, savoring her sweetness, her warmth. After a brief second of shocked stillness, Roslyn opened to him. Swaying weakly against him, she reached up to steady herself, then clutched his upper arms as if to pull him even closer.

At her hungry response, Drew wanted nothing more than to drag her into his embrace, but instead, he summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed to break off. Giving a low groan, he stepped back, putting a safer distance between them.

The kiss had left him raw and aching, left his voice hoarse with need when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to succumb to temptation. I meant to keep my hands off you entirely. To show I could woo you the way you want to be wooed.”

She searched his face for a long moment, then swallowed before replying. “That is the way I want to be wooed, Drew. With tenderness.”

His chuckle sounded pained. “I’m afraid I couldn’t manage tenderness for long. And I sure as the devil won’t be able to stop with a mere kiss.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

His gaze arrested. “Do you know what you are saying?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I know. I want you to make love to me.”

He glanced back at the doors leading to the library. “Not here. Not with my mother in the house.”

“Then where?” she asked.

“The cottage,” he said after a moment. “The gamekeeper’s cottage I showed you today. Will you come there with me?”

Roslyn nodded. “Yes,” she replied simply.

He felt his heart turn over with elation, felt his loins tighten at the thought of being with her again. This was his chance, Drew reflected, pulling in an uneven breath. Tonight he would make Roslyn feel overwhelming passion for him. The kind of ardent passion he had begun to feel for her.

Stepping closer, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll need to saddle a horse…and I must fetch something from my room first. Wait for me here, will you?”

Roslyn nodded again silently.

“Are you sure, sweeting?” Drew repeated.

“Yes, I am sure.”

Hearing no hesitation in her voice, he gave her fingers one last lingering kiss. “Ten minutes, then.”

Roslyn’s nerves were taut with anticipation by the time Drew returned. Without speaking, he laced his fingers with hers and led her through the library and down a corridor to a side door, where he had a horse waiting. Lifting her up, he mounted behind her and drew her back against him.

They rode across the grounds in silence. The summer night was beautiful and serene, the darkness awash with silver moonlight, but the ride seemed to last forever. Eagerness strummed inside Roslyn, beating an urgent rhythm in time with her heart. She could feel Drew’s warmth at her back, feel the hard muscles of his chest and enveloping arms arousing her senses.

When finally they arrived, Roslyn spoke for the first time. “Your gamekeeper won’t mind if we use his cottage?”

“He no longer lives here. I provided him a larger home and kept this for my own because I was fond of it. One of the privileges of having a fortune-being able to indulge my sentimental whims.”

She doubted Drew had many sentimental whims, so she was glad he could indulge this one.

Dismounting, he helped her down and preceded her inside. He didn’t light a candle but pulled aside the curtains on the front windows instead, letting the moonlight stream in.

This cottage was significantly larger than the one where they had first made love, Roslyn realized at a glance, and much better furnished.

“The bedchambers are upstairs,” he said, taking her hand again.