Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves

Chapter Four

Miranda’s jaw dropped in shock. She’d never heard such talk before. It was lewd and ungentlemanly…and more intriguing than she cared to admit.

What if someone spoke to me that way? Would I feel offense? Or something…else?

The woman on the receiving end of the man’s indecent flirtations giggled, clearly not offended in the least by his words.

“Have you ever been kissed, My Lady?” the man asked in a low drawl. Something about his deep voice tugged at Miranda’s mind. She felt as though she’d heard it before, but that couldn’t be possible. She would undoubtedly remember such a voice, as it wrapped around her and held her captive in a way that caught her off guard. She felt heat pulse in her belly and slowly spread throughout her body, yet when his tone washed over her, she shivered.

“Once, My Lord,” the woman confessed in a rather sultry voice as well. “It wasn’t anything noteworthy.”

“Well then perhaps I can give you a more noteworthy memory, as it were–”

Suddenly, realization struck Miranda like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes widened and she let out a loud gasp.

Then, before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Benedict?”

There was a brief stretch of silence before the unknown woman let out a frightened yelp. Miranda heard bushes and leaves rustling as the lady no doubt fled before her identity was revealed. Miranda couldn’t very well blame her for that. The scandal could hardly be worth the company.

Miranda stared into the darkness, her whole body tense as she waited. It was only a few moments later that Benedict stepped out from the shadows and into the moonlight before her. At the sight of him, Miranda was instantly assailed by a bombardment of conflicting emotions. First and foremost was anger, which really wanted to be rage.

But she was also confused, intimidated, and anxious. Finally, deep below the rest was one final emotion that she was rather ashamed of feeling, as if proved she’d lied earlier to Rowena when she’d said his presence wouldn’t affect her.

Longing. She shoved that feeling away, however, and latched onto her rage, which he deserved more than anything else.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, clenching her fists at her sides.

He gave her a lazy smirk. “I was wondering when our paths would cross. I can’t say I expected it to happen out here, but I suppose that’s rather convenient, isn’t it?”

“How so?” she spat, feeling as though he was setting some sort of trap for her.

He took a step closer. “Well, out here we can talk freely. At least more so than if we were in the ballroom, surrounded by our peers.”

“Luckily, I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped.

“Is that so?” His gaze swept over her, perusing her figure without even attempting to hide the fact. “That’s fine, actually. There are much more interesting things we could do than talk.”

Her cheeks heated in an instant and she just managed to hold back another gasp.

“I’d heard you’d become a rake.” She furrowed her brow in disgust. “I hadn’t realized you were quite so shameless.”

He chuckled, apparently unaffected by her harsh words. That sound washed over her and seemed to pierce her at her core, startling her. Heaven above, what was happening to her? Why was she feeling this heat just from the sound of his voice?

As she gazed at him and took him in fully, however, it wasn’t just his voice that made her stomach clench. He’d grown handsome, damn him. He towered over her, though that wasn’t hard to do, but he was likely at least half-a-head taller than most of the men in the ballroom. He was also broad shouldered and his wide chest tapered down to a narrow waist and hips. The boyish charm of his face had given way to a much sharper jawline and chiseled features. His brown hair was roguishly mussed (from the fingers of the woman he’d just been with?) and his dark blue gaze looked nearly black in the moonlight.

“Shameless? I suppose that’s true,” he nodded, looking amused. “I find I have very little use for shame. It seems to get in the way of things far more than it is helpful.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “I see your ego has grown considerably as well since we last saw each other. A pity. You used to be such a tolerable companion. You hardly seem to be now.”

He arched a brow and scoffed. “You’ve come to that conclusion within moments of meeting again? I see you’ve become much more judgmental since last we were together.”

The urge to stomp her foot and snarl at him was nearly overwhelming, but she knew that would make her seem childish so she resisted. Still, she didn’t have to stand there and listen to his ungentlemanly talk a moment longer.

“I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other,” she snapped. “I should be getting back to the ballroom.”

She turned to storm away, but his fingers suddenly wrapped around her wrist and he stopped her. His touch felt like a brand on her skin, scorching and somehow permanent, as if that piece of her would now belong to him forever. Snapping her teeth, Miranda turned back to him.

“Unhand me!” she exclaimed.

He tilted his head and seemed to study her for a moment, but he didn’t let her go.

“We’re not done talking,” he told her at length, his tone taking on a more serious note. “I have a few things I’d like to say to you.”

“Might I suggest going to find your paramour from earlier and tell her what is so urgent on your mind?” The words were supposed to sound mocking. An attempt to make him feel the shame that would be associated with such a meeting in such a place.

However, instead of the censorious tone she was hoping for, she sounded almost…hurt. Well, perhaps not so much hurt as irritated. Slightly annoyed, perhaps. Still, whatever tone of voice she’d used was not the one she’d intended, and she dreaded his reaction. His brows shot up and he looked momentarily confused. For a long few seconds, he just stared at her, not saying anything.

Growing increasingly uncomfortable, Miranda cleared her throat and hastily said, “All right, then. I’ll be going.”

She tried to yank her arm from his grip, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he seemed to shake out of the daze that had settled over him. To her surprise, he grabbed hold of her other wrist and pulled her toward him. She let out a yelp as he spun her around, and the next thing she knew, her back was pressed up against a tree.

“What are you–?” she began to demand, but he pressed his lips against her in a rough kiss that stole her breath and her words right from her.

Miranda gasped, parting her lips, and his tongue swept into her mouth. It wasn’t their first kiss, but he had never kissed her like this before. In their youth, he’d stolen a few pecks to her cheek and a handful of bolder ones to her lips. Those had been sweet and shy, however. They’d left her blushing and giggling while her heart beat a little more forcefully for him.

This was not like those kisses. There was nothing sweet about this kiss. It did not make her giggle and blush. Instead, she was panting and whimpering against his lips, her body feeling as though it were burning from the inside out. His mouth was dominating and forceful, as if he were seeking to conquer her with each swipe of his tongue. Miranda’s mind became clouded and all rational thought left her.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that they were a stone’s throw from the ball and that anyone could come upon them any moment. It didn’t matter that she’d vowed not to care for this man or let him affect her in any way again. It didn’t matter that he’d broken her heart and left her to rut his way across Europe.

In that moment, all that mattered to Miranda was the feel of his lips on hers, and the press of his body holding her tight against the tree. He gripped her waist in one hand while he plunged the fingers of his other hand into her hair. She, in turn, gripped the front of his jacket and held him close, desperate for more. He briefly broke the kiss, chuckling smugly.

“I hadn’t expected this response from you,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re acting as though kissing me isn’t a chore.”

“If you keep talking, I’ll come to my senses and scream.”

He nipped at her lips, making her yelp.

“I also wouldn’t have guessed you’d be so jealous.” Now he was smirking, which infuriated her as much as it aroused her.

“I’m not jealous,” she growled. “And who are you to judge me? You jumped so easily from your mystery woman to me. Is this the kind of kiss you were about to give her?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. He gripped her chin and tugged at her lips with his thumb. “This kiss was always reserved just for you. I’ve always wanted to shut you up this way.”

Snarling, she began shoving at his chest to get him away, but he grabbed her wrists again and pinned them above her head before reclaiming her lips with his. That fog settled over her again, and she was helpless to do anything but melt for him. She was so consumed by him that she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late.

“Lord above, what is going on here?” a shrill voice exclaimed.

With a jolt, Miranda broke from Benedict’s kiss and began shoving at his shoulders to get him to back away. He obliged, his expression grim as he turned from her to face the approaching group of ladies who had caught them. Miranda’s eyes widened and her face burned with mortification when she saw that her Aunt Pam and Rowena were among the group. Her aunt was shaking her head, her expression, highlighted by the moonlight, one of exasperation and disappointment.

Rowena was staring at Miranda in clear disbelief, but there was also a note of relief in her gaze. Miranda wondered if her friend had been worried for her, and thus gathered Aunt Pam and a few other older ladies to search for her. Those other four women were glaring at Miranda and Benedict with obvious disapproval.

The lady who had screeched at the sight of them turned up her nose and declared, “Lady Miranda, your father will hear of this shameless display. You mark my words.”

Miranda glanced toward Benedict, but he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, he seemed to be intentionally keeping his gaze from her…or was that simply her imagination? She couldn’t be sure, but one thing she was certain of was that she had been caught in a compromising position, something that all young women of the ton were warned strictly against.

Her stomach pitched and she felt nauseous at the idea that, no doubt by morning, all of London’s upper society will have heard of this scandal, and her reputation would be ruined.

Glaring at Benedict, a single thought repeated itself over and over in her head.

I should have known better. This man has brought me nothing but grief and heartache, and now…he has ruined me.