The Duke's Gamble Read Free Page A

inside her. Against her father, yes, but just as equally against the man who had forced her into this untenable situation. She had arrived ready to hate him with every fibre of her being. Yet here he was, telling her that he found her exquisite, that she was an obsession of his. She didn’t know what to think. The intensity in his black eyes unnerved her. Made her heart race with fear and something that felt oddly like … excitement.
    “I have waited a long time for this moment.”  
    “This moment?” she whispered, watching as heat flared in his gaze.
    “This very moment,” he murmured, his head lowering to hers.
    She didn’t have time to do anything. Not even to take a breath. Warm lips brushed hers lightly.  
    Once.  
    And again.  
    Bella brought her hands up to his chest in a reflexive motion but instead of pushing him away as she had intended, they stilled. For he had settled his mouth against hers. His kiss was unhurried, the pressure firm, yet gentle, and slowly, her lips softened and parted under his coaxing. The first taste of him was shockingly intimate, causing her breath to catch. The small sound seemed to galvanise Avalon, for his hand tightened around her nape. He placed his other hand on her waist and pulled her against him.
    His tongue swept into her mouth, exploring and caressing and stroking. She was lost in the mastery of his kiss, her anger and resentment forgotten as her senses became overwhelmed by him; his smell, his taste, the sound of their laboured breathing, the heat of his hand burning into her lower back. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his wool superfine, and she strained to get closer to him even as his mouth ground down on hers so hard that her lips felt bruised. She vaguely wondered who this wanton female was, but the thought was lost when her tongue’s tentative foray into his mouth was met with a sensuous sucking that made her knees buckle.
    Avalon’s arm tightened around her before he tore his mouth away with an abruptness that shocked her back into the present. Her lips throbbing, she wobbled slightly when he released her and took a step back. He stared at her, his eyes hot and wild.  

Chapter 3

    “Damn it to hell.” Castor raked a hand through his hair, then quickly dropped it to his side when he realised it was shaking. What in damnation had just happened? Where was the distance, the detachment he was supposed to maintain? It was just a façade, of course, because Arabella’s effect on his composure was equivalent to that of a cannonball on an enemy vessel at close range.  
    Arabella.  
    Yes, he thought of her as Arabella. His Arabella, to be exact. In his mind, she had always been his, even when he had absolutely no claim on her.
    The first time he saw her five years ago, across the width of the Anstruthers’ ballroom, he had found himself unable to tear his eyes from her. He did not know what it was about her that had drawn him to her. She had been pretty enough but there were beautiful women there. When she had thrown her head back in laughter at something her companion said, he had been shocked by the ferocious desire that consumed him to possess her.  
    Later that evening, he had stood behind her, close enough to hear her conversation with Baroness Worsley. The baroness was in her eighties and deaf as a post, yet the young woman had remained eminently patient with her companion, the low contralto of her voice unfailingly gentle. Castor could not tear himself away. To his frustration, he had still not managed to obtain an introduction by the time she accompanied the elderly woman to supper, and by then, his card game was due to begin. When he had emerged from the card room, she had disappeared. He had searched for her; had even gone as far as to make discreet enquiries to discover her identity.  
    When he finally discovered that she was Melton’s unmarried daughter and only child, he was forced to stop and think. He was one of the wealthiest men in the