A staid duke

Heath, the Duke of Devonshire, has been living a passionless life of penance after losing the woman he loved. Determined to do his duty, he’s in search of an innocent bride with a sterling reputation. A bride who’s nothing at all like Tia, Lady Stokey.

A bold lady

The Duke of Devonshire may be handsome, but he’s as boring as a bowl of porridge. Or so Tia thinks until he carries her to her chamber and undoes half her buttons while kissing her senseless.

A decadent desire

The moment he scoops the delectable Tia into his arms, Heath wants her in his bed, and he’ll stop at nothing to have her there.When they unleash the scandal of the century, they must face consequences that are deeper and far more dangerous to their hearts than either of them imagined.Will they find love, or was the reckless need between them doomed from the start?

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Heath knew he should keep his distance from Lady Stokey. And he’d tried. For three whole dreadfully troublesome days. Following her about like a lovesick swain would only leave him looking the fool, with nothing to show for his efforts save a hard cock. And yet in the drawing room after dinner that evening, he found himself going to her side where she was carefully seated on a gilded settee, her ankle propped on a small stool. Her wily charge Miss Whitney was within eyesight but beyond earshot, and her sister had just beat a hasty retreat to her husband’s side, leaving Lady Stokey alone for the moment.

He bowed to her, thinking she looked exceptionally lovely in a black-and-gold-striped silk-and-velvet evening gown. “Lady Stokey.”

Her gaze met his, sending an inadvertent jolt through him. “Duke.”

He thought of how she’d looked in her chamber, her bodice undone, creamy skin on display, and it nearly undid him. She had been so beautiful, and he’d wanted nothing more than to stay with her, open the rest of her buttons, divest her of every inch of her clothing. Make love to her. Damnation, he never should have approached her, but it was too late now. She was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

“How is your ankle, my lady?” he asked at last.

“It’s recovering quite nicely, thank you.” She seemed ill at ease, her effortless wit from three days ago nowhere in sight. “Do sit down. You’re hurting my neck, forcing me to gaze up at you.”

Heath sat next to her on the settee, leaving enough room between them so that her voluminous skirts barely brushed his trousers. The scent of violets teased his nose. The twin diamond stars she wore clipped in her hair twinkled at him. “You’ve received injuries enough of late, I daresay,” he drawled, aware that his conversation was appallingly boring. But he couldn’t seem to think of a single worthwhile thing to utter.

“It would certainly seem so.” She paused, seeming to consider her next words with care. “I suppose I ought to thank you for your kind assistance the other day.”

He’d never heard a more grudging attempt at gratitude in his life. “You suppose you ought to? Pray contain your enthusiasm, my lady or else it shall go straight to my head.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“Nor did you mean to truly thank me,” he returned, suspecting that it wasn’t often that anyone dared to oppose her.

Her lovely mouth worked for a few moments, and he thought he’d left her speechless. Finally, she found her voice. “I meant to apologize just as surely as you meant to unhook my buttons, Your Grace.”

Heat slid through him at the reminder of what had almost been. He hadn’t expected her to refer to his lapse of judgment, particularly when they were in mixed company. “I suppose I ought to apologize for my imprudence,” he said, intentionally repeating her phrasing.

She cast him a sidelong glance. “Do you regret it?”

A surge of lust crashed over him as surely as waves on a storm-tossed sea. He couldn’t look away from her. “No.”

Lady Stokey inhaled, her only reaction. But it spoke volumes. “Perhaps you should.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But we cannot always help what we feel.”