Chapter Seventeen #2
His brother sighed. “Go home. You look miserable and I do not want you to spoil the ladies’ evening with your mood.”
“If I do you must keep the keenest of eyes on them both.”
“Is it him or her that you do not trust?
Tony did not answer, simply stalked away. He was acting irrationally. He knew it. For a man who prided himself on his self-control, it was becoming clear that he could not control himself around her.
He headed home to drink himself into tomorrow. Perhaps the headache he would have would be a just punishment for his actions of late. He walked most of the way, hoping for a fight with a pickpocket or ruffian, but even they were warm inside that night.
How had his life turned into this farce?
Some part of him wished he had ignored Stafford and gone off on his own to find Markham.
His mother and brother would have taken Lucinda in hand much better than he seemed to be doing.
He had never felt more like a failure than right now.
He was letting her down again, and for what?
A jealousy he had no right to. He did not want to acknowledge what he felt for her.
Was he falling in love with her? No! He could not do it.
He had to fight it. He would be no good for her.
He could not be aimless and without purpose, not again.
He had been there and done that. Stafford had made it clear that he could not have both.
It was either married to the woman he loved or married to the job he loved.
He was trapped in a no-win situation, and he couldn’t find a way out.
She would no doubt not have him anyway, not after how he had been acting lately.
The only solution he could come to was to let her marry Dunstan, but he could not watch her marry another man. And that was the crux of the matter.
Lucinda did not notice Tony had left until they all took their seats. How typical of him to run away whenever he did something stupid or mean or both. She had wanted to slap his face earlier, but she would not bring shame to the Ashtons and not in so public a place.
She had not enjoyed the second half of the evening, although she tried to put a brave face on it.
And now she had drank too much champagne, and the room was spinning.
The duke escorted her back to the carriage and she could not remember much after that.
Not until she found herself lifted in the arms of the duke and taken up to her room.
He may be a bit of a curmudgeon sometimes, but at least he was mostly kind.
She tried to fall asleep again, for she was very tired but the room was spinning and she felt a little ill.
She tossed off her blankets and went searching for something to eat to settle her stomach.
She usually had a little something stashed away but could find nothing.
She thought about using the bellpull but could not make someone have to get out of bed for her.
She was almost sure she knew where the kitchen was.
Surely there would be milk or cheese or even some bread.
She tried to put her dressing gown on, but her arms would not cooperate and like an octopus with too many arms, she gave up and grabbed a shawl instead. If she was quick, she would not get too cold.
She got to the stairs and realized that this was perhaps more of a feat than she had thought.
She began down the stairs, holding on to the railing for support, but her legs seemed to be descending faster than the top half of her.
She ended up on her bottom and bouncing down the last few stairs.
She giggled, for it had actually been quite fun and she was sure she would have looked ridiculous.
She also had stupidly left the room with no candle, so she was peering into the darkness with her arms outstretched in front of her, hoping for a door, or a wall, or something she could use as a guide.
Finally, she felt something. It was one of the marble statues that lined the hallway.
“Oh, I do beg pardon,” she said, giggling again when she realized she had touched the chest of the fig leafed sculpture with no nose.
Continuing down the hall, feeling her way and using the wall as support for her wobbly legs, she thought she had finally made it to the kitchen.
When she stumbled into the room, she instantly regretted this whole adventure.
It was not the kitchen, but the library.
She had not been here since Tony had given her the miniatures of her parents.
Now, she didn’t even have them. Given to Dunstan to paint.
Tony. Dunstan. Men. Argh.
She made it as far as the arm of the sofa. Her head felt far too heavy for her neck, and she needed to sit down for a while. A fire was still going nicely in the grate, so she let herself fall onto the sofa.
“What the…?”
A scream threatened to wake the whole house only to be smothered by a large male hand. Looking down, and lit only by the glow of the fire, she saw it was the one man she did not want to meet down here.
“Lucinda?”
She tried to talk, but his hand was still over her mouth. She thought about biting his hand, but as soon as the thought arrived, the hand disappeared.
“Oh, why you are here?” Her voice sounded entirely an octave too high, and did what she just said even make sense?
“Why are you here?” he countered.
She could smell strong liquor on him. “I came for a snack and something to drunk.” She tried to sound as haughty as she could, for she had a legitimate reason to be downstairs even if her words had come out wrong. She felt dizzy all of a sudden.
“In the library?”
She shrugged and then giggled. “Well, I did not know it was the lib…rary. I thought it was the kitchen.”
He put an errant curl behind her ear. “It is not the kitchen,” he said. “I think someone is a little foxed.”
“I’m no fox.” He frowned at her, so she frowned back.
“Oh lord. Right. You need to go back to bed. Right now.” He pushed her off him and she slumped back to the other side of the sofa and huffed.
“Do not do what I tell me to do. Besides, I am upset with you.” She poked him in the chest.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You do? Well, of course, you do. You were very ungentle…” hiccup “… manly tonight, or was it yesterday now?”
He smiled. She was actually quite adorable when tipsy. “Who knows and who cares.” He brushed the hair off her face. “I love your hair.” He loved her hair? Why did he say that? It was true but really, not the right time, Ashton.
“Oh, that’s nice. And you like my hands too, remember?” She was waving them in front of her face like they possessed magic powers.
He laughed. He had to. “I do. They are very nice. Soft.”
“What about my feet?” She kicked them out and onto his lap.
This was getting ridiculous. Even if they were nice feet.
She wiggled them about in his face. Her nightgown slipped up her leg showing a lovely amount of thigh.
He felt his body reacting to her. All that soft, creamy flesh was in reach of his hands. He sat up straight. This had to end now.
“Let me escort you back upstairs, Miss Sterling.”
She laughed. “Are you going to carry me like Edward… the duke?”
Had his brother carried her to her room? He kind of saw why he would need to.
“Why won’t you kiss me, Tony? Is it because you hate me?”
“It is the exact opposite, which is why you need to go back to bed.”
“Then kiss me, you fool!” she demanded with a theatrical fling of her arm that had her nearly toppling off the sofa.
“If I give you a kiss, will you go back to bed?”
“Yes, but not on my forehead. I want… proper kiss.”
Damn, she had his measure. A kiss on her forehead was what started all this. Right. Just one kiss. He could do that and then she would go to bed and likely not remember any of this in the morning.
He used his index finger to beckon her over to him.
She complied with a grin on her face. Instead of just leaning in for said kiss, she straddled his thighs, sitting on his lap.
Now her nightgown really was up around her thighs.
He skimmed his fingers down them and found that there was no hindrance to her luscious backside. Lord help him, what was he to do now?
“Just one kiss,” he said.
“Uh huh. Just one.” She closed her eyes, waiting.
Tony stifled the urge to laugh but instead put his lips to hers.
He had not expected the jolt of desire. The fire that swam through his veins to settle in his groin.
She wriggled closer winding her arms around his neck so that her nether regions were oh so very close to his.
He tried to end the kiss, but she clung to him like an octopus, all arms and legs and lips.
He could smell the lilac soap used in her hair and all he wanted to do was drown in her.
With reverent care, Tony cupped her face in his hands, guiding their kiss.
His movements slowed as the kiss became more languid and intimate.
At his urging, Lucinda opened her mouth to him.
He let his tongue play with hers in a dance that somehow she knew instinctively.
Gripping her waist, he pulled her closer, one hand now smoothed over her thigh, pulling up more nightgown in its wake.
Tony’s hands were now cupping her naked buttock and gently squeezing, groaning into her mouth.
His cock strained against his breaches. He had to stop but she was squirming against him, and it felt so damn good.
It was then she decided to let him do whatever pleased him, as it would surely please her, too. All she knew was she wanted more of his hands on her, more of his mouth, more of everything. Hope lingered where her anger had been and now she felt light, balanced, right.
When the kiss finally ended, they rested their foreheads together, breathing heavily.
“Why did you stop? Do not stop,” she said.
“This is dangerous. I should not have let it go so far.”
“How is it dangerous if we both want it?”
“Do you want to lose your virginity tonight, Lucinda? Because if we had kept going that is what would have happened. I only have so much control when I am around you.”
“Oh, can’t we just keep kissing? I was rather enjoying it.”
He laughed at that. “Were you now?”
“Yes,” she said and raked her fingers through his hair and kissed him again. This time she was the one to stop the kiss, only to kiss his jaw and neck. Her hands were now on Tony’s shoulders and were making their way down his taut arms as they held on to her waist.
With a sure and steady rhythm, Tony guided her hips down so that she rubbed deliciously against the bulge in his pants.
It felt so good and soon she was moving with him.
She threw her head back as his hips thrust up against her and the throbbing that had started as nothing more than a nice tingling between her legs was now an ache that demanded something. Something she could not name.
As their tempo increased so did her moans of delight until Tony reached up one hand and put it over her mouth just in time as she twitched and convulsed atop him. He thrust his hips a few more times and then fell limp beneath her. They both were breathing heavily.
“I’ve never… that was… Tony. I thought I was dying but I could not stop.”
“The French call it the little death for a reason.”
“I can understand why,” she said as she lay slumped above him. “It was amazing.”
“You should go to bed now, Lucinda. Do not tell anyone about this. What we just did was wrong.”
“But why? It felt so, so wonderful.”
“I am your guardian, albeit not a good one, and a man should not do what… we did with one’s ward.”
She frowned at that but acknowledged he was right. “Am I ruined?”
“Not if no one finds out, plus your virginity is still intact, thankfully. You should go to bed now, Lucinda.” He kissed her lips one last time and gently pushed her to sit up.
“Are we friends again?”
He chuckled. “Of course.”
She slipped off his lap and awkwardly bent down to pick up her shawl, nearly toppling over.
Tony watched her and swore under his breath.
He had just made a monumental mistake. He may not have taken her maidenhead, but he may as well have.
Now she knew he had a weakness for her, and the Lord knew he did.
His only hope would be that she would not remember it come morning.
Why did she have to come down tonight of all nights?
She looked at him over her shoulder at the door.
“Thank you,” she said, and he felt like an absolute arse.
How was he going to let her marry Dunstan now?
Now that he knew her passionate side, now she knew his?
He was doomed. She slipped away, obviously more sober than she had been when she had entered.
He heard her giggle in the hallway. Maybe not that sober after all.
He got up and went to the doorway and watched her cling to the banister and climb it hand over fist as she went up the stairs. Holy hell, what had he done?