The Duke in My Bed

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The Duke in My Bed Page 12

by Amelia Grey


  He waited, giving her plenty of time to slap him and walk away. She couldn’t do either, even though she knew she should. She realized she was more horrified by the fact that she wanted the duke to kiss her than by the innocent conduct of her wayward hands.

  How did the duke know she’d never been kissed? Was that why he was tempting her beyond her power to resist? Did he somehow know she wouldn’t have the strength to walk away from the possibility of her first kiss, even if it was coming from an admitted scoundrel like him?

  “I’m not going to strike you, Your Grace,” she finally said.

  His expression questioned her.

  “Though I do believe I have just cause.”

  “So do I,” he admitted. He placed one hand against the shelf near her shoulder and leaned in close once again. “Do you trust me, Miss Prim?”

  “Not at all,” she answered honestly.

  He smiled again. “That’s probably best.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “I know the girls are upstairs, hiding from you. Where is Mrs. Colthrust? In the house?”

  “At the agency that will be sending maids over to interview.”

  “Good,” he said, and brushed a long curl to the back of her shoulder. “You know, they say that if you lose one of your senses, the others will become more heightened. Do you believe that’s true?”

  “Perhaps. I don’t know. Why?”

  “May I?” he asked, and reached down to slide the black scarf from her tight grasp. She let it go. He untied it and stretched it out and then folded it over several times to form a new blindfold.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing that you don’t want me to do,” he answered. “Stop me whenever you wish.”

  She couldn’t stop him. She was mesmerized.

  He slowly placed the scarf over her eyes. “I’m not going to force you to do anything.”

  For reasons Louisa didn’t begin to understand, she let the duke place the scarf over her eyes and tie it at the back of her head, completely blocking out her sight and, much to her chagrin, proving she trusted him after all.

  She felt him move nearer, though he touched her nowhere once the scarf was in place.

  “Can you see?” he asked.

  She tried to open her eyes, but the blindfold had been put on too well. “No.”

  “What do you hear, other than my voice?”

  She listened. “Breathing.”

  “What do you smell?”

  “Shaving soap.”

  She felt him place his face against her temple, and he whispered just above her ear, “I smell soap, too.”

  He reached down and picked up her hand and laid it on his face. “What do you feel?”

  “Beard stubble,” she said, and then heard him chuckle low in his throat.

  “What do you taste?”

  Instinctively, she licked her lips and replied, “Nothing.”

  “Ah, the most tempting and the most delicious of the five senses. To taste.”

  He pressed his body against hers once again. She felt his weight and the firmness of his powerful frame. His hand slid around her neck and cupped her nape. “Do you want to taste my kisses, Louisa?”

  “Yes,” she said expectantly, knowing she was throwing caution to the wind and her sensible self out the window.

  She felt his breath on her cheek. Her abdomen quivered in anticipation of her very first kiss, but his warm lips touched high on her cheek just below her eye. His lips stayed on her skin, slowly peppering tender, short kisses down her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

  “Was that a kiss?” she asked.

  “It was many kisses,” he answered.

  “I felt them, but I didn’t taste them.”

  “You will,” he murmured.

  She heard and felt him rest his hands on each side of the bookcase, boxing her inside his arms. He kissed each corner of her mouth again and each cheek before letting his lips travel down her jawline and across her neck to nuzzle the skin behind her ear before moving farther down to kiss the crook of her neck. And then, without letting his lips leave her skin, he moved back up and placed his lips to hers.

  At last!

  Her first kiss.

  He moved his lips seductively over hers. A soft moan wafted from her. She heard another low, tantalizing chuckle deep in his throat as his mouth continued to move agonizingly slow over hers.

  “Open your mouth and taste me, Louisa,” he whispered.

  Unsure what he meant, she stiffened.

  “No, don’t shy from me now.”

  His powerful arms slid around her back and pulled her up tightly against his chest. Louisa melted against him. She had never been held in such powerful arms, and the feeling did strange things to her insides.

  “Open your mouth, Louisa. I will taste you first and show you how it is done. Then you can taste me.”

  Louisa opened her mouth, and the duke’s tongue slid inside. Suddenly she knew what he meant when he’d said, “Taste me.” His tongue explored the depths of her mouth as his lips moved seductively over hers.

  She lifted her hands and clasped them together behind his neck, trying to bring him closer to her. His strong hands slipped down to her buttocks and pressed her against his lower body as his mouth ravished hers. Her breasts flattened against his chest. Their kisses became more ardent with each passing second. His tongue drove deep inside her mouth. Their uneven breaths melted together while his strong body pressed hers hard against the shelving.

  “Now it’s your turn,” he whispered. “Taste me, Louisa.”

  Without hesitation, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, brushing, swiping, and darting from one side to the other.

  He moaned and murmured softly, “What do I taste like?”

  “Passion,” she answered. “This must be what passion tastes like, for I can’t think of any other way to describe it.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone say it that way before, but I agree. You taste of passion, too, and I need to get my fill.”

  Moments later, his lips left hers. He swept his tongue down the length of her neck to the swell of her breasts peeking just above the bodice. He dipped his tongue below the fabric of the dress as one hand cupped her breast, as if he were trying to lift it from beneath the confines of her clothing. Shivers of delight exploded inside her, and a strange feeling of wanting stirred deep within her.

  Louisa felt as if he were devouring her. And it was the most exquisite feeling she’d ever experienced. With every movement his lips made over hers, her breaths grew shorter. Her breasts, stomach, and between her legs tightened. His kiss lingered, and she responded by instinct and parted her lips again. His tongue slid between her teeth. He explored the roof and the sides of her mouth with slow, sensual movements.

  His hand moved up and down the side of her rib cage, past her waist to the plane of her hip, and back up until his palm covered her breast once again. A small involuntary moan slipped past her lips. He pressed his palm to her breast again and lifted and molded it in his hand. She gave herself up to the new and joyous feeling of being touched by this man.

  A tremor shook the earl’s body, and she realized he was as affected by these wonderful sensations as she was. That thrilled her almost as much as his touch.

  Louisa’s breaths became tiny gasps, and her arms tightened around him. Her fingers kneaded his back as he continued the easy, unhurried stroking of her breast. Another moan of pleasure escaped past her lips.

  The duke gave her several more soft, short kisses and then lifted the blindfold from her eyes and stepped away from her.

  Louisa blinked, adjusting her eyes to the light and her body to the shock of the abrupt change.

  He put the scarf in her hands and stepped even farther away from her. “We must stop. I heard movement abovestairs. I think your sisters might be wondering why you haven’t found them.”

  “Oh, yes, well.” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Of course, you’
re right.” Coming fully to her right senses, she realized just how easy it had been to forget anyone was in the house save for the two of them.

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe. You don’t look like you’ve just been seduced.”

  “Was I? Seduced?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh,” she whispered earnestly, closing her eyes and lowering her chin. “I should have known that’s what you were doing, but I couldn’t seem to stop you.”

  She felt the tips of his fingers under her chin. He gently lifted her head, and her lashes fluttered up. She couldn’t deny that just the merest touch from him filled her with soul-shattering sensations.

  A roguish grin lifted the corner of one side of his mouth. “There was no reason for you to. It’s perfectly acceptable for a young lady to have a kiss or two before she marries. You are hardly defiled, Miss Prim—and believe me, you are as chaste right now as you were when I walked into the house a few minutes ago.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite.”

  She frowned. “That’s hardly true, Your Grace. I touched you in unmentionable places. I tasted you. You touched me, and right now I’m feeling wretchedly wicked.”

  He chuckled once more, this time good-naturedly. “Take me at my word, Miss Prim. I know a few wicked women, and you are not one.”

  The soft light in his eyes seemed to indicate he was being truthful with her, but it didn’t help her feelings at the moment. “Why did you want to kiss me first with the blindfold on?”

  “The truth?”

  “Always.”

  “It was a purely selfish act on my part. I wanted to see if it would be as thrilling to kiss you with it on as I imagined it to be when I watched you searching for your sisters.”

  She swallowed hard again. “And was it?”

  “More than I could have imagined.”

  “Will a kiss feel different with the blindfold off?”

  “I can only assume so. I must admit, I’ve never worn one.”

  “Yet you had me wear it,” she said, her ire rising once again.

  “You were it. Not me.”

  “Oh, you are impossible!”

  “I wish I had time to kiss you now without the blindfold, but we will have to save that for another day.”

  “I wouldn’t let you kiss me again,” she said, knowing it sounded childish but unable to stop herself from saying it.

  “You should know by now the danger of issuing a challenge to me, Miss Prim. I never decline one.”

  “Someday I will get even with you for this.”

  “I can only hope that is true, so please make that a promise. And I think the only way for you to get even is for you to put the blindfold on me and kiss me.”

  Louisa gritted her teeth. “Did you come here today just to give me a kissing lesson?”

  “No, but when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of your lips.”

  “Did you come to see if Saint has missed you? For if you did, I can assure you he hasn’t.”

  “Not for that reason either. I came to make sure you knew that I didn’t willfully keep Saint from you and your sisters. I readily admit I’m the lowest kind of scoundrel. I think I just proved that, Miss Prim. However, had I known your uncle was searching for the dog, I would gladly have surrendered him to you.”

  She had no doubt he was telling the truth. “I believe you.”

  He nodded once. “I hear a small footstep on the top stairs. You might want to put the blindfold back on and pretend you have been looking for your sisters. I’ll see myself out the back door.”

  Louisa fell against the bookcase and slipped the blindfold back over her eyes, hoping it would also hide the flames of heat licking at her cheeks. She was amazed at how easily she’d gotten caught up in the magical feeling of his kisses. She’d completely lost all thought of where she was or what she was doing. All that mattered was the way he was making her feel.

  She didn’t even know how she could have let him kiss her. Or how she could have enjoyed it so much. Surely it wasn’t natural to enjoy kisses from a man such as the duke. It’s a good thing he hadn’t asked her to propose to him while he was kissing her, because she would probably have been fool enough at the time to do it.

  She needed to find a way to get him out of her life, before he found a way to get inside her heart.

  If it wasn’t already too late for that.

  Chapter 13

  Short time seems long in sorrow’s sharp sustaining.

  —The Rape of Lucrece

  Bray and Harrison rode in silence as they had for most of their three-day journey. It was damned cold, and a light mist fell across the foggy landscape. Bray had hated swirling fog ever since Prim’s death.

  Already, Bray was wishing they’d stayed by the dry warm fire in Adam’s cottage. Chilling wind blew moisture down the back of his neck, and even with his woolen gloves and socks, his fingers and toes were growing numb. Adam’s housekeeper, a gentle old woman, had invited them to wait inside for his return. Bray and Harrison didn’t have the patience for that, so they had asked her where she thought Adam might be and went looking for him.

  About half an hour away from the cottage, Harrison broke the silence and said, “I’ve been away from London almost two years, and nothing has changed, my friend. The gossip is still all about you.”

  “It’s a talent I’m not likely to outgrow,” Bray answered, seeing faint traces of bruises on his friend’s face from his fight a couple of weeks ago. “One of the many good things about being a duke is that people are often afraid to repeat the gossip to me, with the exception of you and Seaton, of course.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were all but betrothed to Miss Prim when we talked the other night?”

  Hellfire, he should have known it was only a matter of time before Harrison got around to mentioning her to him. He had hoped that getting away with Harrison would help him forget about Miss Prim and the feel of her warm supple body so willingly locked in his arms, but so far it hadn’t. It certainly wouldn’t help to talk about her.

  “Because I’m not,” he answered without bothering to look at Harrison.

  “So the gossip’s not true,” Harrison said with surprise lacing his voice.

  The corners of Bray’s lips lifted in a sly grin. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but according to the ton, gossip is always true.”

  “Well, hell—are you engaged or not?” Harrison grumbled.

  Harrison usually had the good sense not to ask for answers Bray didn’t want to give. He supposed their three-day journey on horseback was wearing on both of them.

  “No.”

  “Everyone I’ve spoken to seems to think you’re a devilish brute and the worst sort of scoundrel for not keeping your word to her dying brother and making her your bride.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But most feel you’ll live up to your oath in the end and do the suitable thing and marry her.”

  Bray grunted and shifted in his saddle. “You’ve been back less than two weeks and you were laid up with a cracked rib for most of that time. How many people have you talked to?”

  “I’ve been out to White’s a few times.”

  Bray grunted again ruefully. “You did say something earlier about it looking as if nothing had changed in London while you were away.”

  They crested a knoll and saw the man they were looking for standing along the edge of a cliff with his horse hobbled nearby. They reined in their mounts and stopped. Adam wasn’t hard to recognize even in the commoners’ clothing and workers’ hat he was wearing. His six-foot-four height and broad-shouldered frame towered over most men. For a split second, Bray had the awful feeling Adam might be thinking about the possibility of ending his pain.

  Bray remained silent as Harrison threw him a questioning look. “You don’t think he’s considering—”

  “No,” Bray cut in before Harrison could voice what Bray had just th
ought. “He’s looking over the cliff at something below.”

  “Do you think he’ll know why we’re here?” Harrison asked.

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Harrison nodded. “Right now I’m wondering if we should have intruded on his mourning. Maybe we should have given him longer.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little late to have second thoughts about that, now that we’ve traveled for three days to get here?”

  “Blast it, Bray, what are we supposed to say to Adam?”

  “We don’t have to say anything about why we’re here. He’ll know. He’ll understand we just wanted to check on him and see how he’s doing. He won’t want to talk about it. In fact, I’m sure he fights like hell every day to forget it.”

  “That might take a while. I heard she suffered for days.”

  Bray knew. He’d been there every agonizing hour with him.

  Bray stared at the lonely-looking figure standing on the edge of the cliff and wondered how in the hell anyone could blame Adam if he did decide to jump.

  “It’s been over three months,” Bray said. “I think he’ll know we’re not here to intrude but to remind him we’re around whenever he’s ready to come back to London.”

  A cold wind whipped rain against the side of Bray’s face. The night Nathan Prim died flashed through Bray’s mind, and his hands tightened on the reins. It had been a cold misty night. He would never forget how desperately he’d wanted to help the man and how helpless he’d felt when he realized he couldn’t do a damn thing to save Prim. And Bray didn’t have to imagine what a man went through when all he could do was stand by and watch his wife die. He’d seen Adam do it.

  Bray swallowed the lump in his throat. Lessons learned from childhood came to his aid. The best way to forget about something bad was to think about something that was good.

  Miss Prim’s lovely face flashed in his mind again. Now, she was something good. Damn, but he wanted to see her again. He wanted to hold her and kiss her as he had that afternoon a couple of weeks ago. No, not as he had then. He wanted to kiss her without the blindfold. He wanted to look into her gorgeous blue eyes and see the wonder, the surprise, and the pleasure on her face when he taught her all about desire.

 

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