Chapter 10 #2
Rushing back in the opposite direction, she tried again at the other end of the corridor, only finding locked doors. It was late, she was very tired, and any relaxation she had found in the warm water was now rapidly dissipating.
With hesitation, she turned a corner and saw another stretch of corridor ahead, lit by similar lamps and lined with similar doors.
What if she never found her room and ended up wandering here alone in a drying sheet all night? Worse still, what if there were other guests and she accidentally walked into someone else’s room while they were asleep?
Red-faced at the very thought, Cecily ran back in the opposite direction and turned the other corner, but everything looked so similar that she did not know where to begin.
Then, suddenly, heavy footsteps approached the corridor from somewhere, and a loud male voice sounded before she even saw the speaker.
“Miss Osborne, I told you to put her to bed hours ago… What in God’s name…”
“Oh!” Cecily gasped, almost mute with embarrassment at finding herself face-to-face with a first stern but then astonished-looking Duke of Greyhaven.
His appearance was as disheveled as ever, having discarded his jacket, stock, and waistcoat somewhere since she had last seen him. This time, being only in a towel, she knew she was in no position to criticize him.
“When I heard someone running about barefoot up here, I thought it must be Lilian again,” he remarked with an incredulous laugh.
“You really are full of surprises, Miss Holt. First, I find you stealing food from the buffet at a musicale, and now you are wandering the halls of my house naked. Is there no end to your eccentricity?”
“I… It is not as it seems,” she managed to squeak. “I did not think…”
“I have no idea what it seems,” the Duke guffawed, seeming increasingly amused by the situation. “Are you perhaps trying to demonstrate how eager you are for me, even before our wedding?”
Even now, he seemed not to take their situation seriously.
“No! Oh, how can you… No gentleman would make such a jest,” Cecily gasped, astounded by the mere suggestion. “I came out of the bathing chamber, and I could not find my room, and I…”
The sound of other footsteps climbing a nearby staircase made her heart pound and her eyes widen. It would be even worse to be caught half-naked with the Duke than to be caught wandering alone. What would Mrs. Barnes say?
The same thought might have crossed the Duke’s mind. Cecily heard him swear under his breath the moment he stepped forward, swept her up in his arms, and carried her into a nearby room before she understood what was happening. The shock of it took her breath away.
“Put me down!” she hissed when she realized that he had indeed returned her to her room and that she had not struggled against him.
Her heart beat wildly. Had this man just rescued her from disgrace or dragged her into even greater danger?
She could not say, and the peculiar sensations rushing through her body did not help her to think clearly.
The Duke’s arms were strong, his body warm against hers through his shirt, the faint scent of his cologne both appealing and maddening.
“Your Grace, you must put me down,” she tried again, her voice sounding rather husky and even less convincing.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” the Duke replied, a teasing note in his voice. “I wouldn’t want you to wander off and lose your way again. Greyhaven is not a small house, and you could be lost half the night.”
The longer he held her, the hotter and more breathless she felt. She was terrified now, not only of what this man could do, but also of how his hold on her was making her feel.
“You… You must not touch me,” she whispered. “Please, Your Grace. You must not.”
“I am not going to touch you, Miss Holt,” the Duke replied, setting her back down on her feet and looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes. “I promised I would not. You are going to touch yourself.”
“What?”
“You want to be touched, and you know it,” he said bluntly. “I can see and feel your desire, but it will be your own hands tonight that deliver what you need, not mine. Now, take off that towel.”
Shocked but also intrigued and aching with strange desire, Cecily could only stare at him, not quite believing what she was hearing.
“Are you mad?”
“Not at all, Miss Holt. I am to be your husband, and you should accustom yourself to obeying me, should you not?”
“Your Grace, I…”
Under the Duke’s hot blue gaze, Cecily found her objections unexpectedly melting, along with the worst of her fears.
His request was insane, wasn’t it? Yet how could she argue with him when her chest was aching and her most intimate parts were throbbing so strangely?
“Take off the towel and lie down on the bed,” he told her, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am not going to lay a finger on you tonight, but you must do exactly as I say.”
Caught still in those fiery blue eyes, Cecily’s trembling fingers loosened the folded top of her towel. She had agreed to marry this man, and he had even obtained a marriage license. Now he told her in almost the same breath that he would not touch her but wanted her naked. What did it all mean?
Under his nod of approval, she slowly let the towel drop to the floor at her feet and stood naked before him. Giddy with longing and a sense of her own daring, she raised her gaze to him in challenge. The Duke had wanted to see her body, and now he had. Did he like what he saw?
The intensity of his gaze and the perceptible quickening of his breath told her that he did, and his next words confirmed it.
“God, you are beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze raking over her from head to toe. “You are quite magnificent, in fact. Your breasts are…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath.
Cecily blushed deeply and lowered her eyes. A flush was visible even on her breasts, the tip of each pale globe growing pink and firm under this unprecedented inspection.
“Run your hands up over your hips and breasts,” the Duke instructed. “Slowly, gently. Imagine they are my hands. Now, lift your breasts for me. How full and round they are…”
Not really knowing why, Cecily obeyed, a soft little moan escaping her lips as she did so.
In that moment, she really did wish it were the Duke’s hands on her skin rather than her own. She wanted to be held and pressed against him again, to inhale his scent and surrender to his will.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat.
“Because you like it, and you need more,” the Duke returned very surely. “Now, lie down on the bed.”
Again, Cecily obeyed, her eyes holding his, her body growing hotter with unsatisfied need. Again, he had her caress her face, breasts, hips, belly, and thighs.
“Rest your hand between your thighs,” he ordered. “Are you throbbing for me, Miss Holt? I believe you are.”
Cecily whimpered in response, sensing that he might understand all the disturbing sensations racking through her body. What would he ask of her next? This entire situation was completely indecent yet equally compelling.