Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“Ithink,” Beatrice said, her voice barely above a whisper as they ascended the stairs, “I’ve lost my mind.”
Leo’s fingers tightened around hers. “Then we’re well matched, Duchess. I lost mine the moment you walked into that garden folly.”
Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory: him rising from that bath, water streaming down his naked body, her inability to look away. And now she was following him to his chambers, to share a bath, to…
God, what was she doing?
The door to his chambers closed behind them with a soft click. Beatrice’s pulse hammered in her throat as she took in the masculine space. All dark wood and leather, the scent uniquely his.
“Having second thoughts?” Leo asked, turning to face her.
The lamplight caught the planes of his face, casting shadows that made him look almost dangerous. But there was something else in his eyes, something that looked almost like vulnerability.
“I’m trying not to,” she admitted. “But I’m here, regardless.”
A smile ghosted across his lips. “Honest to a fault, wife.”
“One of us should be.”
His eyebrows rose. “And what does that mean?”
Beatrice lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. “It means that whatever this is between us, I won’t pretend it is merely physical attraction. I’m not built for such detachment.”
Leo studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he crossed to her in three strides, his hand cupping her face with surprising gentleness.
“Neither am I,” he murmured. “Though I’ve tried all I could to convince myself otherwise.”
Not waiting for her to respond, his mouth found hers, hot, demanding. This was hunger unleashed, restraint discarded.
Beatrice gasped against his lips, her hands fisting in his waistcoat as her knees trembled.
A knock at the door forced them apart. “Your bath is ready, Your Grace.”
Leo’s jaw clenched, but he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Leave it,” he called. “I’ll see to it.”
Footsteps retreated down the corridor.
Silence settled over them again, thick with anticipation.
“Turn around,” Beatrice said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Leo’s eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?”
“My dress. The buttons are impossible to reach.” She presented her back to him, and he could see her pulse racing at the base of her neck. “Unless you’d prefer I bathe in my traveling clothes?”
His voice came out gruff. “So, you are asking me to turn around for what reason?”
She looked over her shoulder at him coyly and watched him suck in a sharp breath.
“Well, the obvious answer is so I can get them off,” she said.
Twin red spots bloomed in his cheeks. “Ah, you’re taunting me now, aren’t you, you little minx?” he groaned.
She couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past her lips.
“Let me do that for you,” he requested.
She did not stop him when his fingers found the first button, then the second.
“Though I should warn you, Duchess. Once I start undressing you, I may not stop.”
“Who asked you to?” The words escaped before she could think better of them.
Leo’s hands stilled, his breath warm against her neck. “Beatrice—”
“Don’t.” She turned to face him, her partially loosened gown slipping down one shoulder.
“Don’t treat me like some delicate thing that needs protecting.
I’m here because I want to be. Because after everything that’s happened, after all the danger and deception and uncertainty, the only thing I’m certain of is that I want this. I want you.”
She didn’t know where all her boldness was coming from, but something in his expression cracked—that careful control he wore like armor—and showed her that he rather liked it.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said roughly. “How much I want to taste you again.”
“Then show me.”
Leo moved, his hands spanning her waist as he pulled her against him, his mouth finding hers with bruising fervor. Beatrice wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the taste of him, the solid strength of his body pressing against hers.
He walked her backward toward the bathing chamber, never breaking the kiss. Her gown loosened further with each step, the fabric pooling at her feet as they crossed the threshold. Cool air kissed her exposed skin, raising gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Steam rose from the copper tub in lazy curls. Two buckets sat beside it, one still steaming, the other filled with cold water.
“No ice tonight,” Leo said, releasing her long enough to shrug out of his coat. “I want to feel the water with you.”
His waistcoat followed, then his cravat. Beatrice’s breath caught as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted chest and abdomen. She remembered the feel of him, the coolness that soon blazed into a scorching passion—
“You’re staring again,” he observed, a smile playing on his lips.
“Because… you’re worth staring at.”
The honesty in her words seemed to undo him.
Leo closed the distance between them, his hands finding the laces of her stays with practiced efficiency.
“These need to go,” he murmured against her ear. “Everything does. I want to see all of you.”
Beatrice shivered as her stays loosened, then fell away. Her chemise followed, leaving her naked before him. Vulnerability warred with desire as his gaze swept over her, hot and possessive.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
Then, his hands were on her, lifting her into the tub. Warm water enveloped her, a shock of heat that made her gasp. Leo’s hands never left her waist as he steadied her, his touch branding her even through the water.
“Room for one more?” he asked, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.
Beatrice nodded, unable to form words.
Leo stripped out of his remaining clothes with efficient movements and then stepped into the tub behind her, settling her between his thighs.
The intimacy of it stole her breath. His chest pressed against her back, solid and warm. His arms came around her waist, holding her against him.
“Comfortable?” he murmured against her ear.
“Oh, extremely.” She leaned back into him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. “Though I suspect comfort isn’t your primary concern.”
His low laugh vibrated through her. “You know me too well.”
“Not nearly well enough.” She turned her head to look at him. “But I’d like to.”
Something softened in his expression. His hand rose to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone tenderly.
“I’m not accustomed to being vulnerable,” he admitted.
“I know.” Beatrice caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Neither am I, truly. But perhaps that’s something we can learn together.”
“Perhaps.” He dipped his head, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Though right now, I’m more interested in learning every inch of you.”
His hands settled on her shoulders, massaging them gently before sliding down. Beatrice’s breath hitched as he cupped her breasts, his slick fingers circling her nipples with maddening slowness.
The warm water, in combination with his touch, made her head fall back against his shoulder.
“Leo—”
“Shh.” His mouth found the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Just feel.”
His hands mapped her body with deliberate thoroughness, down her arms, across her ribs, over the soft curve of her belly. Each touch was both soothing and incendiary, stoking a fire that built with every pass of his palms.
“My turn,” Beatrice said breathlessly, reaching for the soap bar.
Leo’s hands stilled. “Are you certain?”
In answer, she shifted in the tub, turning to face him. Water sloshed over the rim as she straddled him. From this angle, she could see every flicker of emotion in his eyes. Desire, yes, but something deeper.
Something that looked almost like wonder.
She worked the soap between her palms, then placed them flat against his chest. His heart thundered beneath her touch as she explored the planes of his body, the hard muscles, the faint scars, the subtle tremor that ran through him at her caress.
“You’re shaking,” she murmured, and he groaned.
“Because you’re touching me.” His voice was rough, strained. “Christ, Beatrice. Your hands—”
She let her hands drift lower, tracing the ridges of his abdomen, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the water. When her fingers brushed his hard length, he hissed, his hands clenching around the edges of the tub.
“Beatrice—”
“I want to touch you,” she said softly, her fingers wrapping around him. “Want to learn what makes you lose control.”
A groan tore from his throat as she stroked him, tentative at first, then with growing confidence. His hips jerked beneath the water, seeking more pressure, more friction.
“God,” he gasped. “That’s—you’re—”
His words dissolved into incoherent sounds as she found a rhythm that made his eyes roll to the back of his head.
Beatrice watched his face, fascinated by the play of pleasure across his features: the way his jaw clenched, the flush spreading across his chest, the desperate restraint in every line of his body.
“Enough.” He caught her wrist, stilling her movements. “If you keep that up, this will be over far too quickly.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
“Yes.” He pulled her against him, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. “Because I want to see you fall apart for me first.”
Heat flooded through her at his words.
Leo’s hands slid down her back, cupping her bottom and lifting her slightly. The head of his manhood pressed against her entrance beneath the water, and Beatrice gasped at the sensation.
“Not here,” he said roughly, even as his hips rocked. “Not for your first time.”
“Then hurry,” she breathed into his mouth.
He stepped carefully out of the tub, water dripping from his hair and shoulders, and extended a hand toward her. Beatrice took it, letting him pick her up into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck for support.