Tempted by His Touch: A Limited Edition Boxed Set of Dukes, Rogues, & Alpha Heroes Historical Romance Novels

by Darcy Burke

  As she struggled to get up from his lap, her shaky legs wobbled.

  The curtains from a dozen boxes swung open and lords and ladies poured into the hall, panic on their powdered and rouged faces.

  However, the sight of Kate balanced on the Duke of Darkwell’s lap, her skirts up about her thighs, managed to bring them all to a halt.

  The horde of lords and ladies gaped.

  A few of the men eyed her appreciatively. A few ladies gazed on in envy, their eyes searching vicariously over them, but the vast majority stood with utter shock upon their faces. One or two pointed, and one lady had the audacity to faint.

  Kate stared back at them as if she’d been frozen in ice. If she wished it hard enough, perhaps they would all go away.

  “Bloody hell,” Darkwell growled as he propped Kate up onto coltish legs. He whipped his coat off, seemingly heedless of the fact his nether regions were still exposed. Quickly, he draped the garment over her head and ordered, “Move.”

  This couldn’t be happening! The crowd seemed to move in slow motion, and Darkwell swept her up into his arms and marched quickly down the wide sweeping stairs.

  Despite his speed and his quick thinking with the coat, Kate heard the whispers.

  “Is that her?”

  “Is that Mrs. Darrell?”

  “Mrs. Darrell and Darkwell?”

  “They were doing what?!”

  “In the hall?”

  “The what?!”

  “The hall!”

  The gasps and exclamations buzzed around them, taking the place of fire.

  Darkwell didn’t let that stop him. He kept moving with long strides. Holding tight onto his shoulders, Kate shook. Every bit of her body was still wildly alive from the desire he’d awakened in her but now horror was thrown into the mix.

  Someone cried out, “Fire, damn you all!” And everyone started milling again, making for the doors.

  But Kate felt, even with the coat over her head, a hundred pairs of eyes upon her.

  Cold air assailed her arms and suddenly she was being flung into a coach. She bounced on the leather seat and yanked the duke’s coat from her head. Biting down on her lower lip, she tried to ignore his readjusting his breeches as he climbed in.

  Darkwell sat across from her his eyes ablaze. A muscle ticked in his cheek. The fury hardening his features was intense. She wasn’t sure if he was furious with her, himself or the witnesses. Perhaps all three.

  She glanced out the glass window as hundreds of theater patrons poured out the doors. Fire licked the rooftop. Of all the nights that something of this nature had to happen, it had to be the one where she finally had her chance with the duke.

  And she hadn’t even gotten to finish.

  What struck her as she glanced out the window was that a whole crowd was watching the duke’s carriage maneuvering its way through the chokehold of other vehicles. It couldn’t have been that bad. Indeed, it couldn’t. Kate felt a wave of hysteria rise inside her, and she laughed. The sound bubbled up from her, pouring out her lips.

  “What, madam,” the duke growled. “Could possibly amuse you?”

  She turned to Darkwell. Not even his austere face could stop the building shock inside her. She laughed again. “I promised myself I’d cause a scandal.”

  “Congratulations.” The duke raised a black brow. “You’ve succeeded.”

  Yes, and at the rate she was going, she would set the record for all scandals to come. Kate shook her head, her insides rattling with uncontrollable laughter.

  She had only one question. A question she should have asked herself before she’d begun her quest for sin. Once one committed what was no doubt the scandal of the season, what exactly did one do next?

  Chapter Nine

  The woman was mad. Absolutely mad. And of course, he’d bloody debauched her. Her laughter filled the coach like a bright bubbling spring. Preposterously, he loved the sound. Which most likely made him mad was well. But the laugh was optimistic and edged with pride at her own accomplishment, or was it panic? Whatever it damn well was, it was mad. Sodding loolah.

  “Come, Your Grace, surely you see some humor in this situation.” She pressed a hand to her rosy cheek. “This isn’t Hell after all. Surely there’s no need to look as if you’ve just swallowed brimstone.”

  “Mrs. Darrell, I may have just swallowed my own doom, all thanks to your blasted determination.”

  It wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t stop the anger. He was the experienced one in these matters. It was his fault. Which he should have been used to by now. It was impossible for him to form relationships where one party didn’t end up either dead or in extreme trouble.

  He should have listened to his instincts. He’d known deep down he should avoid this woman. Known associating her might lead him to betray Jane’s memory.

  For a brief, too brief he had to admit, moment, he’d ignored his instincts and now look where he was. In the middle of a biblical scale scandal.

  Worse, he’d ignored his own promise to remain true to Jane in his heart and soul. Bastard that he was, he had allowed his growing fascination with Mrs. Darrell to rule his actions.

  “Doom?” Kate smiled waveringly. “Come now, melodrama is not becoming in a gentleman.”

  Ryder gaped at her. “Melodrama, madam? Melodrama?” Surely she understood what happened back there? Understood what he was now expected to do?

  “Under the circumstances, I do think you might call me Kathryn, or Kate. Everyone else does.”

  Her unwavering optimism was absolutely grating. Ryder massaged his temples, trying to understand how she could be so damned cheerful. “Mrs. Darrell, you don’t seem to understand the seriousness of this—”

  “Oh, I’m quite certain there will be a great to do, but then it will all fade away as all scandals do. I’m a widow with a great deal of money. You are a duke. What harm can truly be done?”

  Ryder didn’t miss the forced certainty in her voice. Clearly, she did understand that what they had done was not typical. “We were caught cock out, skirts up by the entire—the entire—ton.”

  Kathryn blushed. She cleared her throat and actually had the decency to look sheepish. “Yes, that was rather bad.”

  “Bad, Mrs. Darrell?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Kathryn.”

  “As you wish.” He blew out a harsh breath.

  It was hard to believe the woman was arguing the semantics of first and last names in their situation. “Bad does not even begin to encompass the enormity of what has befallen us.”

  Good God, he could not be in this situation. He could not and should not have to choose between Jane’s memory and this madly captivating woman before him. “Catastrophe, madam. That is what we have. We have a bloody catastrophe.”

  Her confidence slowly dimmed under his tirade. She folded her hands into her lap and glanced out the window. “I realize I have behaved without modesty.”

  Ryder shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He didn’t want her feeling as if he thought badly of her or her behavior. In the end, this truly was his damned fault, but right now he was having a devil of a time getting a hold of his temper. Perhaps because he’d put himself in this wild situation.

  “I, myself, shall hardly be canonized any time soon,” he said softly. “But that is not the point. The point is we were caught—”

  She snapped her gaze to him, and the grey depths stormed with razor sharp intellect. “Make no mistake. I shall not be cowed by this circumstance. I have lived too much of my life in the care of other people’s opinion. I will not be coerced into guilt. Anyone in our set would have done exactly as we did. We just happened to be found.”

  God, she was beautiful in her assurance and determination. And her passion was admirable. Few women would claim their own futures as she had done and remain so bold in the face of the ton’s displeasure. He had to admit, it had never occurred to him this was truly about freedom for her. He’d merely assumed she’d been repressed se
xually, as happened to many wives. This, however, was different. Kathryn clearly longed for independence. Of every sort. But that she truly thought of herself to be coupled with the likes of him and the people he sinned with?

  “Our set?” he asked gently.

  “Yes.”

  “Madam, you are about as much a part of my set, as a poodle is like to a wolf hound.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That is not a flattering comparison, Your Grace. Though I may have given evidence to the contrary, I am not a silly person and have lived my life with a ridiculous sense of propriety and duty.”

  Ryder hesitated. He had given insult by comparing her to such a vapid little beast, but damnation, this was infuriating. “I apologize, but do you realize how utterly ruined you are?”

  She opened her mouth ever so slightly, then clapped it shut.

  “You are ruined,” he repeated softly but firmly.

  She shrugged. “I shall recover.”

  “Not in London, you shall not. Not unless you wish to be reduced to the status of an extremely loose woman. No house of any repute will welcome you. It matters not that half the ton would have done what you did.”

  “It is what is seen that counts,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  Ryder leaned back and wiped a hand over his face. He had never cared so strongly about the fate of a lady he’d involved himself with. His lack of emotional regard to the women he bedded was the only way he had been able to justify being untrue to Jane. He cared for this woman. Too much. “Do you know the only way you can be saved?”

  She glared back at him, clearly annoyed he was forcing her to see the cold reality of such a beastly happenstance.

  Ryder laced his hands together over his lap. “I am expected to marry you.”

  “No, thank you,” she said tightly.

  Ryder blinked then braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward. He remained silent for a moment, convincing himself she had indeed just uttered the words, no and thank you together.

  In the first place, every woman in Christendom panted after his dukedom, even though they knew he would never propose. Secondly, he was this woman’s salvation, and she was dismissing him before he’d even told her he wasn’t going to offer. It was—it was damned disconcerting!

  She didn’t want him? The feeling lacing through his chest was most certainly not disappointment. It was relief. Indeed. It was.

  “I beg your pardon,” he asked, his voice incredulous to his own ears.

  “No, thank you,” she said again folding her arms just below her breasts.

  Surprised by his own sudden discomfort at her quick rejection, he said, “That was not an offer. Merely a statement of fact.”

  “Oh.” She shifted uncomfortably. “It matters not. I already said no.”

  Yes, well. It was for the best in any case. Even now, he could recall Jane on their wedding day with perfect accuracy. She’d been full of grace and beautiful, so unlike the day she died.

  Ryder swallowed quickly. “So you absolve me from your ruin?” he asked, his own shock ripe in his voice. Any other woman would be screaming that he had forced himself upon her and then shout for the bans to be posted.

  “Absolutely.”

  Before he could stop himself, the word slipped from his lips, “Why?”

  “Suffice it to say, I have made the mistake of marriage before.” The light in her face faded. “I have no intention on revisiting such an unpleasing happenstance.”

  “I see.” He too had been married.

  Like the woman sitting across from, he had no intention of marrying again, but for very different reasons. Memories of Jane invoked such pain, but he welcomed the harsh feeling. He needed to remember she had once lived, walked gently through their home, and lovingly held his hand in the darkest moments of his young life.

  Jane. Quiet and kind, her voice had always been a surprise, but he’d listened to her, always valued her opinion. When she’d been taken from him— “Then we are of a like mind,” he gruffly pointed out.

  “Yes.”

  He blew out an exhausted breath. “Then there is nothing more to say.”

  Her gaze lifted to his face, and she looked at him for a long moment, as if willing him to say exactly what she wanted. Alas, he had no idea what the woman was thinking and he couldn’t imagine the words that would be perfect to her ears.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “There is nothing more to say.”

  As though on cue, the carriage rolled to a stop before her townhouse, and the footman jumped down and opened the door.

  The silence stretched between them for several moments. Finally, Ryder spoke. “I am sorry it ended like this.”

  She smiled slightly—her angelic, enigmatic smile. “I am only sorry we were unable to finish.” With that, she started to step down out of the carriage.

  Before Ryder could stop himself, he grabbed her hand, savoring the gentle feel of her and pressed her open palm to his lips. The scent of roses washed over him, and he breathed it in, knowing it might be the last time. “Farewell.”

  Her hand ever so lightly cupped his cheek then slid away. Mrs. Darrell dashed down the step and up to her townhouse.

  She didn’t look back.

  Ryder found himself hoping she would. It was the most ridiculous notion, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d let his last chance at happiness climb out of the carriage.

  It was a damned foolish thought, and before he could allow it to take root, he slipped Jane’s ribbon from his pocket and tied it back around his wrist. He gazed down at it for a moment, his throat tightening. Then he tore his gaze away and pounded on the roof. The coachman cracked the whip, and he rode into the darkness. Where he belonged.

  ***

  To her absolute irritation, Kate watched the duke’s coach rattle away through the window of the salon. She shouldn’t really give a fig for his departure, but she did. What was worse, she felt as though her entire spirit was rioting inside her body as if her body was insisting she run out into the night and stop the duke from leaving. That was nonsense, and if she didn’t keep a hold of herself the reality of her situation would hurtle her into a tear-ridden mass.

  She lifted her hand and pressed it to the cold glass window pane. She could still see his face, rapt with desire for her. It had been the most thrilling moment of her life. He had made her feel utterly beautiful, as if she was the only woman in the world.

  But she supposed that was his specialty, for he hadn’t even suggested they might see each other again. In fact, his attitude had been firm in his resolve that their relationship should come to an end.

  Sighing, Kate pushed herself away from the window and turned to the empty salon. She bit down on her lip, trying to control the nerves shaking within her. One moment, the man was so charmingly ardent. He’d even protected her from the watchful eyes of the ton, sweeping her possessively into his arms.

  Then he’d taken it all away. He hadn’t whispered one word of reassurance. Perhaps Mrs. Barton was right. In the end, the duke was a man not to be trusted.

  Kate bit back a bitter laugh. He hadn’t even offered that she might call him by his first name.Well, she’d learned her first real lesson about the ton. She was on her own, just like she’d always been. Nothing was going to stop her from doing just as she pleased. She was going to live her life on her own terms.

  Certainly, she wasn’t going to let the duke or the ton stand in her way. After all, a woman of her wealth and determination could find people who would still be willing to enjoy life with her. Those were the people who were worth her time, not those who would run at the sign of danger.

  Chapter Ten

  Kate was sick of scandal, sin and the papers. In fact, the papers she had so once loved to read were now her enemy, labeling her the most loose of lascivious ladies. She was even more annoyed with the dozens of roses, orchids and flowers she didn’t even know the names of piling up at her door.

  Apparently, it wa
s now widely considered that she was going to be London’s next great courtesan. After all, what else was left to her except banishment to some horrid part of Spain or some Germanic principality? Frankly, she had no liking for beer and kraut. She’d also heard that living in Spain was positively dreary.

  So, here in London, in the prison that was now her townhouse, Kate sat at her desk overlooking Green Park and ground her teeth. The letters on her desk were in two convenient piles. One slim stack was full of invitations to what appeared to be orgies. The other, much larger stack, were retractions of invitations she’d already agreed to accept. Ironically, her new gowns arrived just this morning. Piles and piles of morning gowns, tea gowns, walking gowns, evening gowns, ball gowns and even a riding habit had been presented, along with the bill. Apparently, the tradesman were nervous she might skip the country in the middle of the night.

  Most likely she wouldn’t have the chance to wear the very gowns she had finally been allowed to buy. It was as if the god of propriety was railing at her sinful desire to step away from the pious path.

  Worst of all, numerous charities returned her donations citing that they could not accept support from a person of such character. Those letters had nearly undone her. The thought of them even now tightened her throat.

  Shaking her head, Kate lifted her quill ready to write a stinging reply to a rather terse letter sent by the Countess of Carmine. What was such a woman doing castigating her? No doubt, the countess was crowing her short burst of popularity in the London set was over. What could one say to such a person? Sod off really seemed the only appropriate reply.

  Flinging down her quill, ink splattered on the green felt blotter and creamy letters. Kate sighed. She let her gaze trail to a large bouquet of crimson roses, a suitable color for her it would seem that had been sent by the Earl of Albany. It appeared a willingness to fling one’s skirts up for a bit of sport at the Royal Opera was a universal introduction to the opposite sex.

  It could be worse. Truly. She could be under the guardianship of a father or a husband who would fling her into the country to be entertained by cows, sheep and incomparably bad musical performances by the local tradesmen’s daughters for her licentious behavior. She plunked her elbow on the table, heedless of the streaked ink and rested her chin on her fist.