Page 89 of Kathryn

Gerrit stared, too flabbergasted for words.

“Why are you looking at me like that? No, never mind,” she said, although he had made no move to speak. “I do not care what you think. You can—you can just go to the devil for all I care!”

She was always lovely, but never had Gerrit seen her so magnificent, so…alive.

A voice somewhere at the back of his head pointed out his admiration was unwise given that her fury was directed at him.

But he could not bring himself to care.

Rather than put a safe distance between them, as a wise man would do, Gerrit reached for her, fully expecting a slap. Instead, his lips had scarcely touched hers when she shoved her fingers into his hair and yanked his head down.

***

Katie was so confused she could hardly see straight. One moment she wanted to club Dulverton over his thick, rock-hard head; the next, she wanted his big, clever hands all over her body and those arrogant lips of his put to a more pleasurable purpose than ranting on about a blasted chess game.

She nearly wept with joy when his lips met hers. She had missed him so much! “I need you, Dulverton,” she shamelessly murmured in between deep, drugging kisses. She yelped when he suddenly scooped her up, strode across the room, and sank down on the settee, where he commenced positioning her as easily as a doll.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she gasped.

“Giving you just what you asked for. Up on your knees,” he muttered, lifting her by the waist until she was straddling his lap, her skirts riding up to her thighs. He gave a satisfied grunt. “Lean forward,” he ordered, his hands busy with the buttons at the back of her gown. But he abruptly stopped and pushed her out to arm’s length. “And is it too much to ask that you call me by my name when we are alone?”

His affronted expression made her laugh; why did she like his anger so much?

Because you are touched in the head.

“How could I do otherwise when you ask so nicely, Gerrit?” she retorted.

He gave a startled snort, but his glower returned. “How could you think I would father three bastards on a woman who relies on me for her livelihood?”

“Are you saying—”

“I am saying that Anna Wilson is not my lover and those are not my children.”

“Truly?” she asked—or squeaked, rather.

“Damnation, woman! I don’t have any children.”

She blinked at his raised voice and exasperated tone. Dulverton showing emotion was… fascinating.

He pulled her forward and finished with the buttons before pushing down her bodice while Katie wordlessly extricated her arms, until the top of her gown was bunched around her waist. He moved his hands to the back of her stays and added, “Nor would I victimize a woman who is dependent on me for the roof over her head.”

Katie saw genuine revulsion in his gaze and suddenly recalled just how disgusted he’d been when she lied about bedding her aunt’s footman.

“I am sorry for maligning you, but I was—” She broke off.

“You were what?” he prodded, his hands going still, his gray eyes dark and bruised as they looked up at her. “What were you, Kathryn?” he demanded with his usual arrogance, cupping her jaw in his warm palm while his eyes flickered over her face.

Show him you care.

“I was jealous thinking of you with another woman,” she whispered.

His expression of shock was almost comical “You were—”

Katie leaned down and pressed her mouth against his. She might be willing to admit her jealousy, but she hardly wanted to discuss it.

He resisted a fraction of a second before responding, his kisses gentle, almost…sweet. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far, his lips drifting to her throat, forcing her head up as he kissed and nibbled the sensitive skin beneath her chin.

When his hands returned to her laces, Katie blindly reached for his coat and unfastened the buttons by touch, making equally speedy work of his waistcoat, until the only thing between her palms and the taut musculature of his chest was the whisper-soft muslin of his shirt.