KISSING HIS PRINCESS

“Are you crying, Gillian?” Leverton asked in a voice of soft amazement.

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if I would cry over something as stupid as this.” As if she would cry over the mistaken assumption that he liked her, when apparently he did not.

“Then what is this I see on your cheek?” He gently brushed a gloved finger over her face. “Yes, there is a tear, sparkling like a jewel. How extraordinary.”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me.” She glared up at him, rather a tricky feat when one was trying not to bawl.

He barked out a laugh. “Believe me, I find this situation anything but amusing. Painful would be a more apt description.”

That dried her tears. “If you don’t let me go this instant, I will make you very sorry. And I don’t give a damn if you are a bloody duke.” He wouldn’t be the first man she’d kneed in the bollocks, and she didn’t suppose he’d be the last.

“Right now, I don’t give a damn either.”

And with that, Leverton hauled Gillian up on her toes and covered her mouth in a fierce, smoldering kiss . . .