Carole Mortimer - Not Just a Wallflower

‘I do no such thing!’ Ellie attempted to rally her indignation—not an easy task when the soft pad of the duke’s thumb was now passing lightly across her bottom lip, and sending rivulets of excitement to the tips of her breasts and an unaccustomed warmth to gather between her thighs. ‘Your Grace—’

‘Justin,’ he correct softly. ‘Or Cousin Justin, if you prefer.’

‘I do not,’ she stated firmly, knowing that if she did not stop his teasing soon she would end up as a boneless puddle at his highly polished, booted feet. ‘It is late, and I— Perhaps there is some—someone anxiously awaiting your returning to her tonight?’

He stilled as those narrowed blue eyes moved searchingly over her flushed face. ‘You implied something similar when I arrived earlier tonight...’

‘Your Grace?’

‘It becomes more and more obvious to me that you, like my grandmother, believe my delay in arriving here this evening to be because I was in the arms of my current mistress,’ he said speculatively.

Ellie felt her cheeks flush even warmer, no doubt once again clashing horribly with the red of her hair, as well as emphasising the freckles across her cheeks and nose that had long been the bane of her life. ‘I am not in the least interested as to the reason for the delay in your arrival—’

‘Oh, but I think you are, Eleanor,’ he contradicted softly. ‘Very interested.’

She gave a pained frown as she looked up into those intent blue eyes and decided she had suffered quite enough of this gentleman’s teasing for one evening. ‘Is your conceit so great that you believe every woman you meet must instantly fall under the spell of your charm?’

‘Not in the least.’ Those blue eyes now twinkled down at her merrily. ‘But it is gratifying to know that you at least find me charming, Eleanor—’

‘What I believe, your Grace, is that you are a conceited ass—’ She fell abruptly silent as Justin lowered his head and bit lightly, reprovingly, on her bottom lip.

Ellie stiffened as if frozen in place and her heart seemed to cease beating altogether as she acknowledged that the coldly arrogant Duke of Royston, the mockingly handsome Justin St Just, had just run the moistness of his sensuous tongue over her parted lips...

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