She kissed him for joy too, though. For parts of herself reclaimed from banishment, for physical pleasures she’d never thought to experience again. She kissed him for being an honorable man whom privilege might have made a lesser creature by far.

“Eleanora, if we don’t remove to the bed now, I will soon be naked in your sitting room.”

She loved seeing him naked. “Talk,” she said, drawing the pin from his cravat. “Idle male boasting, which never did win fair maid.”

He rose with her wrapped around his waist. “Indifference,” he said. “Grand, impenetrable female indifference, which has prompted more male foolishness than drink and arrogance combined. Do you truly want me to share your bed tonight, Eleanora? I will not take offense regardless of your answer.”

Guilt singed the edges of the emotional riot in Ellie’s heart. She was being greedy, demanding another night with him and then abandoning him.

“Elsmore, if I could have the rest of my life with you, as your mistress, your paramour, your wife, your steward—anything—I’d like nothing better. Our stations are too different, and you’d come to regret our association. You must believe me when I say that—”

He braced her back against the door jamb and kissed her. “You believe this drivel you’re spouting. Pray do me the courtesy of not telling me what to believe, for I know my own heart, Eleanora.” He’d spoken gently, but his kiss was ferocious, unlike any of his previous overtures. When he carried Ellie to the bed, his embrace spoke of determination and primal desire, not of courtship or ducal affection.

And that unfettered male need freed Ellie to match him passion for passion. That they should part was necessary—and wrong, so very wrong. That she could love him and know that her regard was returned was right and true and good.

Clothing became a foe to be vanquished. His coat went sailing to the reading chair, her dress was flung over the vanity. Breeches ended up draped over the privacy screen, stays fell to the floor. Before Ellie could untie the garters holding up her stockings, Elsmore had her on the bed, more than six feet of aroused duke pinning her to the mattress.

“Please, Elsmore. Don’t make me—”

Then he was inside her in one unerring, glorious thrust, and Ellie’s body took flight. He laughed, redoubling her pleasure, then went still, nuzzling her neck.

“Elsmore, I will have my revenge for that.” She’d meant to sound authoritative, not as if she’d just won the local hill race.

He wrapped her close. “Do you promise, Eleanora? Will you take your revenge until we are the most sated and spent pair of lovers this side of myth?”

“I will give it my very best effort, you varlet.”