The Duchess of Love Read Online Free Page A

finally resuming polite proportions. “My apologies.”
    Her long wet hair was soaking her shapeless, colorless frock. He much preferred her naked, but she’d be beautiful dressed in an elegant gown or an old sack.
    His cock bobbed in agreement.
    â€œDo you suppose you might gift me with your name, madam?” He stepped closer, into the shade of the trees.
    She stepped back. “Stay where you are.”
    â€œIf I continue to stand in the sun, my entire body, except for the poor bit I’m shading with your lovely hat, will be sunburned.”
    â€œOh.” She turned bright red herself. “Very well. You may stand there, but no closer.”
    â€œThank you.” Had no one taught this girl any sense? She was obviously not a servant or country miss looking for some friendly sport. “You took a substantial risk coming to such a deserted place by yourself, you know.”
    â€œI have Archie with me.”
    â€œThat vicious animal?” The dog was on his back, wiggling in the grass. “I suppose he might have come to your rescue if I’d tried to rape you.”
    She drew in a sharp breath and turned an unpleasant shade of greenish white. Well, it was about time she heard some plain speaking.
    â€œBut he would have been of very little use if you’d hit your head when you fell into the water.”
    â€œI told you I was a strong swimmer.”
    â€œEven strong swimmers should not swim alone.”
    She glared at him; he glared back at her. This time the silence stretching between them wasn’t charged with attraction. One of his friends had drowned swimming in just such a pond a few years ago. He had a point to make.
    Finally she looked away. “You may say I am managing, but I suspect you can be very overbearing. How does the duke put up with you?”
    He grinned. “I don’t know.” At some point he would have to tell her who he was, but he wanted to put it off as long as he could.
    And if someone had told him he’d be standing naked by a pond in bright daylight with only a lady’s hat to provide any sort of cover, conversing with a woman about swimming and dogs and not beds and bodies, he’d have laughed himself silly. “Your name, please?”
    She looked down her nose at him—while still darting glances at his chest and shoulders. “Miss Venus Collingswood. My papa is the vicar.”
    â€œI see.” Vicars’ children were often rather wild, but not candidates for dalliance. He would probably have to marry her.
    At the moment, the thought was more exciting than dismaying. In fact, a prominent part of him was very excited indeed—thank God for the hat. “And so what is your proposal?”
    â€œMy older sister, Aphrodite—”
    â€œWhat?” Her parents had named both their daughters after the goddess of love?
    She flushed. “Papa and Mama are classical scholars.”
    He laughed. “I hope you don’t have a brother.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Miss Collingswood—Venus—was staring at his chest again. A pity she’d put her clothes back on; he’d very much like to study her chest, and with more than his eyes. If she was going to carry the goddess of love’s name, she should learn a little of love’s mysteries, after all.
    â€œBecause a boy with the name of Eros or Cupid would be beaten to a pulp in short order.”
    â€œOh.” She tore her eyes away from his shoulders to meet his gaze. “I suppose you are right.”
    â€œOf course I am. I take it you are not a classical scholar?”
    She raised her chin. “I can read Greek and Latin as well as anyone, but I am more interested in modern events.” She let out a long breath and her shoulders slumped slightly. “If there were any modern events of interest in Little Huffington.”
    He grinned. “Things here a bit dull?”
    â€œNot if you find tales of sheep and crop-eating insects