Never Have I Ever With A Duke
by Darcy Burke
Series: Spitfire Society, #1
Genre: Historical Romance
Release Date: August 27, 2019
Meet the smart, independent women who've decided they don't need Society's rules, their families' expectations, or, most importantly, a husband. But just because they don't need a man doesn't mean they might not want one...
Graham Kinsley is shocked when he inherits a debt-ridden dukedom, and now he has just one month to repay a loan. He needs an heiress–or find a way to recoup the former duke’s losses. When he meets the alluring Arabella, he’s entranced. Unfortunately, she’s as bankrupt as he is, but if they work together they may be able to recover their fortunes. Though if they keep stealing kisses, they may lose their hearts instead.
Arabella Stoke can’t afford an attraction to the penniless duke who has vowed to help rescue her family from financial devastation. She needs to find a wealthy husband before her father succumbs to the stress of losing everything. However, as Graham brings them closer to finding the swindler who stole their money, the war between what they want and what they need may ruin them both.
“Biscuit!” Arabella chased after the terrier, but soon lost sight of her as she scurried through a thick group of bushes. Muttering a very unladylike curse, Arabella called for the dog again. The barking stopped, and a bead of apprehension worked its way up Arabella’s spine. A cold sweat broke over her neck. If anything happened to that dog—after everything else they’d endured—Arabella feared it would crush what remained of her mother’s spirit.
Hastening her stride, Arabella moved along the path, stopping to search in shrubs and behind trees. Her worry progressed straight to terror as she feared the worst, and she soon found herself off the footpath and in a wooded area she’d never been to before.
She stopped and stood still, listening, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. A whooshing sound from the other side of a stand of trees drove her around them. She barreled into a small clearing and nearly fell over as something dislodged her cap from her head.
A small squeak leapt from her throat as she managed to focus on a large figure. She blinked. A man. In shirtsleeves. Clutching a sword.
“Bloody hell!” He rushed forward, his features creased with horror and concern. “Are you all right?”
Arabella reached up and patted her bare head, then looked down to where the borrowed cap lay on the ground beside her. “I think so.” Her voice sounded small and quiet and not entirely her own.
“Where on earth did you come from?” He bent and picked up her cap.
Closing her eyes for a moment to restore her equilibrium, she opened them again to see he was in much better focus. He was tall and lithe, with ink-dark hair and eyes. Though his face was drawn, he was objectively attractive, with angled cheekbones and a firm jaw. Objectively attractive? Yes, anyone would find him handsome until they looked at his lips. Those they might describe as sinfully gorgeous. The lower one was the thicker of the two, but the upper had a curious dip at the top, giving it the overall shape of a heart. A seductive, kissable heart.
Kissable?
Her gaze lowered to the triangle of flesh exposed by the opening of his shirt. She hadn’t seen so much of a man in six long years, and when she thought of that… Well, it was no wonder she thought of kissing.
“Miss?” he prompted, holding out her cap.
Arabella took it from him, her bare hand grazing his. A frisson of anticipation danced up her arm. She snatched the cap and took a step back. “Thank you.” She was thanking him? He’d almost killed her with his sword. “You nearly decapitated me.”
One of his eyes squinted as he cocked his head to the side. “I wasn’t even close to decapitating you.” He straightened. “Besides, this blade is made for thrusting, not slicing, which is why your cap is intact.”
She eyed the weapon he held in his right hand, which he pointed toward the ground. “It’s made for dueling, isn’t it?”
“It’s made for fencing, which is what I was practicing. I’ll ask again, where on earth did you come from? This is a rather remote area of the park.”
It was indeed. She set the cap over her hair and glanced around, not recognizing a thing. In fact, she wondered if she’d be able to find her way back. Or find Biscuit.
Biscuit!
“I’m looking for Biscuit. My dog.”
“You have a dog?”
She was dressed as a servant, and they didn’t typically own dogs, did they? “My mistress’s dog. She saw a small animal and tore after it. The dog, I mean, not my mistress.”
A trace of a smile flirted with his kissable mouth. “I see. Then we must find… What did you say its name was? The dog, not your mistress.”
Hastening her stride, Arabella moved along the path, stopping to search in shrubs and behind trees. Her worry progressed straight to terror as she feared the worst, and she soon found herself off the footpath and in a wooded area she’d never been to before.
She stopped and stood still, listening, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. A whooshing sound from the other side of a stand of trees drove her around them. She barreled into a small clearing and nearly fell over as something dislodged her cap from her head.
A small squeak leapt from her throat as she managed to focus on a large figure. She blinked. A man. In shirtsleeves. Clutching a sword.
“Bloody hell!” He rushed forward, his features creased with horror and concern. “Are you all right?”
Arabella reached up and patted her bare head, then looked down to where the borrowed cap lay on the ground beside her. “I think so.” Her voice sounded small and quiet and not entirely her own.
“Where on earth did you come from?” He bent and picked up her cap.
Closing her eyes for a moment to restore her equilibrium, she opened them again to see he was in much better focus. He was tall and lithe, with ink-dark hair and eyes. Though his face was drawn, he was objectively attractive, with angled cheekbones and a firm jaw. Objectively attractive? Yes, anyone would find him handsome until they looked at his lips. Those they might describe as sinfully gorgeous. The lower one was the thicker of the two, but the upper had a curious dip at the top, giving it the overall shape of a heart. A seductive, kissable heart.
Kissable?
Her gaze lowered to the triangle of flesh exposed by the opening of his shirt. She hadn’t seen so much of a man in six long years, and when she thought of that… Well, it was no wonder she thought of kissing.
“Miss?” he prompted, holding out her cap.
Arabella took it from him, her bare hand grazing his. A frisson of anticipation danced up her arm. She snatched the cap and took a step back. “Thank you.” She was thanking him? He’d almost killed her with his sword. “You nearly decapitated me.”
One of his eyes squinted as he cocked his head to the side. “I wasn’t even close to decapitating you.” He straightened. “Besides, this blade is made for thrusting, not slicing, which is why your cap is intact.”
She eyed the weapon he held in his right hand, which he pointed toward the ground. “It’s made for dueling, isn’t it?”
“It’s made for fencing, which is what I was practicing. I’ll ask again, where on earth did you come from? This is a rather remote area of the park.”
It was indeed. She set the cap over her hair and glanced around, not recognizing a thing. In fact, she wondered if she’d be able to find her way back. Or find Biscuit.
Biscuit!
“I’m looking for Biscuit. My dog.”
“You have a dog?”
She was dressed as a servant, and they didn’t typically own dogs, did they? “My mistress’s dog. She saw a small animal and tore after it. The dog, I mean, not my mistress.”
A trace of a smile flirted with his kissable mouth. “I see. Then we must find… What did you say its name was? The dog, not your mistress.”
Darcy Burke is the USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy, emotional historical and contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age 11, a happily ever after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan who loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations. Join her Reader Group at https://www.darcyburke.com/join-my-reader-group/. A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, their two hilarious kids who seem to have inherited the writing gene, two Bengal cats and a third cat named after a fruit.
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