Chapter 15

Moving slowly, Harriet took her time perusing Brody’s collection. She was acutely aware of his piercing blue gaze following her every move. Earlier during dinner, when he’d brought up the incident in the parlor, she’d done what she could to ease his concerns. Truth was, she’d wished their situation might have been different and that he’d gotten to know her instead of Harry.

It broke her heart, knowing he fancied a fictitious character she had created. Harry was an illusion, crafted to give her the same opportunity she would have had if she’d been born a boy. Unfortunately Brody, much like Oliver, was drawn to his own sex. And for some absurd reason they’d both been attracted to Harry.

She shifted her feet. It really wasn’t fair. Not that she would have had a chance in hell with a duke anyway, but maybe they could have at least shared a kiss?

Now?

She stared at the book spines before her and frowned. It would be foolish of her to let such a thing happen when there could be nothing more. It would be wrong when Brody would think he was kissing a man. It would be selfish of her to let it happen. Wouldn’t it?

Her heart raced. There was no doubt in her mind that the duke wanted more than Harry’s friendship. And she longed for more than his, so perhaps one kiss, to appease both of their curiosities would not be so very bad?

She rolled her eyes. Of course it would. What if things got out of hand? What if they lost control and he realized she wasn’t the man he thought he was kissing? Their friendship would surely be over then. Wouldn’t it?

Yes, she told herself firmly. It would. And that was not the sort of risk she was prepared to take. Besides, it really wouldn’t be fair of her to kiss him while pulling the wool down over his eyes. That wouldn’t only be wrong, but cruel.

Expelling a sigh, she grabbed the volume that had caught her interest – The Victim of Prejudice – and turned away from the book case. Brody now reclined on the sofa while sipping his port. She sipped her own and made her approach.

After a brief consideration she chose the armchair adjacent to where he sat – close enough so they could talk with comfortable ease without their thighs pressing together.

His gaze, more intense than ever, stayed on her as she took her seat, angling herself so she faced him more directly. She cleared her throat and placed the book in her lap, gripping it firmly to stop her hand from trembling. The nervousness she suddenly felt was incomparable. Her stomach rolled over and butterflies started flying around it, making her feel slightly ill.

“What did you pick?” Brody asked, scooting forward in his seat.

His knee bumped hers and sparks ignited at that point of contact. An intense sense of longing swept through her. She instinctively shifted with the intention of adding some distance, but the low table at the center of the seating arrangement hampered her movements.

Her stomach tightened with sudden alertness.

Clearly she’d made a severe error in judgement by choosing to sit so near him. The space was narrower than she’d imagined, and the heat his proximity stoked in her body would soon make her melt into a pathetic puddle.

Needing to calm her nerves, she took another drink while handing him the book.

“Excellent choice,” he murmured, and set it aside on the table before them. “Would you like more port?”

She realized she’d emptied her glass. “Yes please.”

The liquor had the most soothing effect. It warmed her insides, eased the tension in every muscle, and enabled her to relax in a state of wonderful languor.

Instead of taking her glass with him to the sideboard, Brody collected the bottle. He returned to his spot on the sofa, sent her a dashing smile, and refilled her glass.

She took it from him and drank some more while he followed suit, his gaze snaring hers with the intimacy of a heady caress.

The hair at the nape of her neck responded, producing the most enjoyable shiver. He stretched out his legs, his feet so close to hers it would take very little for them to touch.

Another sip of port filled her mouth. She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly while savoring the lightheaded sensation it wrought.

“I’ve been wondering,” Brody said, his voice a low rumble that did all sorts of delicious things to her body. When Harriet looked at him next, he was once again leaning toward her, not in a menacing way, but as though with interest. “Did the advice I gave you about French letters prove useful?”

Harriet blinked. She was fairly sure she should be appalled by the question, but her brain was too relaxed for such a response. “Um…not yet.”

“Did you at least visit the apothecary as I advised?”

“No.”

“Why not?” He sounded genuinely curious.

She licked her lips, set her glass aside on the table, and leaned back, moving her feet so their ankles connected. He didn’t move and neither did she. It was much too nice, this intimacy that existed between them. She sighed, enjoyed the weightlessness in her bones before glancing at him. “I haven’t had the need.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Brody muttered.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “You’re in your prime. Only what, seventeen years of age?”

“Eighteen, to be precise.”

“And when was the last time you bedded a woman?”

“I’ve not…that is…I…”

A long and uncomfortable silence followed before Brody quietly asked. “Are you saying you’ve never done it?”

Harriet answered without even thinking. “Yes.”

“I see.” The remark was very observational in nature and seemed to suggest a great deal of insight.

“You’re surprised,” Harriet said. Of course he would be. She was supposed to be masquerading as a man, not an unmarried woman. Hoping to shrug off what he clearly viewed as unusual behavior, she told him, “There’s nothing wrong with choosing not to go whoring about.”

“Of course not.” He sounded affronted now. “I don’t much care for whoring myself.”

She sent him a sidelong look. “Good to know.”

He snorted. “Generally speaking, I prefer a permanent partner, of which I’ve had only a few.”

Annoyed with the turn the conversation had taken, Harriet couldn’t refrain from asking, “And who is your lucky paramour now?”

“I haven’t any, at the moment, though I am hoping that might soon change.”

“Really?”

“If things turn out as I hope. Truth be told, it’s a bit of a tricky situation.” He chuckled with enough edginess to catch Harriet’s attention. “Perhaps you can advise me?”

“I can certainly try, though with my inexperience taken into account, I doubt I’ll be much use.”

“All I’m after right now is that first kiss.” When Harriet didn’t reply he asked, “You have been kissed before, have you not?”

“Of course. Oliver…” She could have bitten her own tongue off right then and there. Not even daring to look at Brody, she stared straight ahead without seeing a thing.

“Oliver kissed you?” His voice was tighter than before, his posture a hard block of steel. “Is that what you’re telling me, Harry?”

“No. That would be wrong.” She leapt to her feet. Hugging herself, she backed away, moving toward the book case and adding as much space between them as possible. “I mean…it wouldn’t be right. No. It wasn’t Oliver. It was…it was… Mary. That’s what I meant.”

Brody stood and approached her with unhurried movements. “You can be honest with me, Harry. I won’t accuse you or judge you.”

“Please.” Her eyes welled with tears, not because of herself or what she risked losing if Brody found out she wasn’t a man, but for Oliver’s sake. She’d sworn she’d keep his secret safe and instead she’d revealed it to someone who had the power to have him arrested and killed. Brody was no ordinary man, he was a powerful duke. She shook her head while pressing herself against the book case. “Don’t tell anyone. Promise me, Brody, I beg you.”

“There’s no need for that,” he whispered, coming to stand before her. “Your secret is safe with me. So is Oliver’s. I shan’t tell a soul. You have my word.”

She sagged with relief. “Thank you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I believe the wine you had for dinner and the port you’ve had after may have loosened your tongue. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He was standing so close she’d press up against him if she were to straighten her posture. And he was watching her with the same heated look she’d seen in the parlor. It had the most inappropriate effect on her body.

“Might I ask…are you and Oliver together? As a couple, I mean.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He held her gaze. “I’ve seen the two of you interact. You clearly get along.”

She swallowed and tried to think of how best to respond, but her brain wasn’t working properly. It felt like a giant wad of cotton. Eventually she settled on, “We weren’t compatible.”

“The kiss was not to your liking?”

She wasn’t sure why his questions were making her wish he would sweep her into his arms and press his mouth to hers. It was maddening and didn’t make any sense. Instead of getting all needy, she ought to be in a dead panic.

She pressed her palms into the bookcase, preventing herself from flinging her arms around his neck, and shook her head. “No.”

“It happens,” he murmured, his fingers suddenly at her jaw. A pulse began beating in Harriet’s stomach. Her throat went dry and every nerve ending sharpened with alertness. “It simply means you haven’t been kissed by the right person.”

Before she could take her next breath, Brody’s lips brushed against hers. Once, twice, three times. Harriet couldn’t move. Every inch of her body had been set ablaze by that touch. Her stomach clenched. Fire burned in her veins while desire warred with her conscience.

“Now you know,” he whispered, his breath tickling her lips. “I won’t say a word about you or Oliver to anyone. How can I when I share the same inclination toward you.”

“Brody, I—”

He kissed her again, this time with added pressure. Moving one hand to the side of her head, he offered support, holding her steady.

His teeth nipped at her lip until she gasped, taking their kiss to a whole new level and leaving her with little choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on with all her might. It was the most improper act she’d ever engaged in. It was also incendiary and wildly seductive.

The taste of the port on his tongue was delicious. Now that she’d ventured down this path she could not get enough, so she kissed him back with equal fervor, mimicking his every move.

A throaty growl rose from his throat, vibrating through her until she was desperate for something she couldn’t define.

“Bloody hell,” Brody muttered against her mouth before kissing a path along her jaw. “Had I known it would be like this, I’d have given up women ages ago.”

The words broke through some of Harriet’s lust-filled haze. “What women?”

“I’m actually rather glad you’re a virgin. That way we can learn together.”

“I don’t understand.” He made no sense.

“I’ve been so damn worried and very confused, not knowing how I could feel what I did, unsure of making advances and fearing the way you’d react.” He returned to her mouth and kissed her deeply, ridding her brain of all else. “I’m relieved we’ve finally taken this step.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath coming hard as he set his fingertips to her lips. “You’ve got the most glorious mouth. I’ve been dreaming of it for ages, wondering what it would be like to kiss you. And do you know what I have discovered?”

“What?” she asked, her voice but a movement of air between them.

Leaning in, he scraped her jaw with his teeth before whispering in her ear, “It’s bloody amazing.”

The hand at her waist loosened her shirt enough for his thumb to caress her bare skin. The slow back and forth strokes made her shiver.

“Feel good?” he asked while watching her closely.

She couldn’t deny it. He’d know she was lying. “Yes.”

His eyes gleamed. “You’re welcome to touch me as well if you like.”

Harriet’s fingers twitched. Lord, she was tempted and given the situation, it would be expected. She’d already come this far. What harm could it do? This would be her only chance. Come tomorrow, she’d have to sit Brody down and explain that their kiss could not happen again.

She reached for him and hooked her fingers into his waistband. He hissed when she found the skin beneath his shirt and again when she ran her fingertips over his stomach. This was wrong. A voice at the back of her head was screaming for her to stop. But how could she when it felt so wonderfully right?

Holding her gaze, Brody pulled on her shirt, freeing it a little bit more – just enough for his whole hand to slide underneath. His palm curved against her waist, gripping her firmly, and then he kissed her hard, with such possessive force heat spiked through her limbs and made her crave more.

Was she mad, kissing a man who didn’t know she was a woman?

Undoubtedly.

Except it would only be this once – just enough to avoid having regrets.

An appeasing thought until she realized his hand had crept higher while she’d been distracted. His questing fingers scraped the underside of her ribs.

Harriet froze. One more inch and he’d touch her bindings.

Panicking, she grabbed his arm to still the movement and turned her head to break the kiss. “We should stop. I ought to go check on Lucy.”

“Of course. I’m sorry if I got carried away.” He laughed with an underlying hint of shyness that would have stolen Harriet’s heart, had it not already been his. “Turns out you’re rather addictive.”

“I could say the same about you.” She smiled while struggling to hide the ache in her breast.

This was the last time they’d be this close. Tomorrow she’d have to add distance. It was the only way for her to stop him from learning the truth about her.

As a man who risked death in order to kiss her – a duke, no less – Harriet feared what he might do if he found out that she didn’t share the same danger. There was no accounting for the lengths he might go to in order to ensure her silence if he felt betrayed. Such anger could make the noblest person a slave to irrational behavior.

So it was best this way.

Feeling her heart break, she placed her palm against his cheek and caressed it lightly. She then lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him for the last time. “Good night, Brody. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He echoed her sentiment, informing her that he needed to wait for his brother to get home from his dinner with friends. “There’s a matter I need to discuss with him before I retire.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope.”

He shook his head, but a brief flicker of pain in his eyes suggested otherwise. “The maids and footmen will see to your bath if you ring the bell pull.”

“It’s not too late?” she asked while tucking her shirt back into her trousers.

He glanced at the clock. It wasn’t yet nine. “No. And after the day you’ve had, I insist you allow yourself the luxury of sinking into a tub of hot water.”

“Thank you, Brody.”

She moved to the door, but he spoke before she reached it, halting her strides. “I’ll give our new relationship some thought until we speak next. Perhaps you can do the same. All things considered, discretion will be paramount for us both.”

It was hard to speak past the sudden hoarseness in her throat. “I couldn’t agree more.”

She slipped out into the hallway and almost sobbed in response to the wretchedness that had replaced the pleasure he’d instilled moments ago.

Good lord, what had she done?