Chapter Nineteen
Adelaide stared up at the Duke, forgetting the book she had selected, even as she held it in her hands.
It was impossible to think of anything except his large frame as he approached her with a hungry smile on his face.
It was similar to that which Lord Edwin had given her during their dance.
But there was no coldness or calculation in the duke’s expression or eyes.
Rather, there was a heat that, since the drastic improvement of his condition, burned brighter than ever before.
She shivered as the duke gently plucked the book from her hands. He looked at the cover, smirking again as he read the cover.
“Lord Byron,” he murmured, glancing at her with his burning eyes. “I thought you preferred Wordsworth.”
Adelaide cursed her inability to speak, forcing her eyes from the duke’s face to the spine of the book he now held.
“Lord Byron has his charms, as well,” she said, cursing also the tremble in her voice beneath the Duke’s intent gaze.
The duke chuckled in a soft, low tone that sent another thrill up her spine. She felt warm enough to melt into a puddle in the floor, her lower abdomen pulsing with the fire that raged within. He slowly opened the book, turning pages until he found one which seemingly caught his interest.
“Charm, indeed,” he said, his eyes nearing a seductive glow. He held up the book so that the firelight shone directly on his selected page. He cleared his throat, glancing at her once more as he began to read aloud.
“There is a fire
And motion of the soul which will not dwell
In its own narrow being, but aspire
Beyond the fitting medium of desire;
And, burning in the very breath it gave,
Doth pine for what it hath not, even as air
Consumes the very essence which it breathes.”
Adelaide’s breath caught as the meaning of the poem settled in her mind.
Their previous conversations about poetry had ended in the mention of tortured souls.
Now, however, the duke had read something that referenced passion and desire.
Her pulse quickened to an impossible rate as she fumbled for words once more.
“That is a passage from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, yes?” she asked, her breathlessness making her question sound like a soft gasp. His voice had dropped lower, and each word from his lips caused a tiny thrill through her abdomen that made her feel feverish.
The Duke’s eyes brightened, and he took a small step closer to her.
“That is correct, Miss Barrett,” he said, his eyes drifting over her improperly covered figure. “I wonder if your fondness for Byron is not more pronounced than you profess.”
The words held no accusation. Rather, he seemed bemused, as if sensing her increasing arousal and teasing her fondly. She tried to compose herself, turning so that only her shoulder faced him and forced herself to focus on the floor.
“As I said, he has his charms,” she said, forcing her voice to sound nonchalant and calm, despite her body feeling everything to the contrary.
The duke chuckled again, and she heard the turning of more pages. The soft thump on the floor told her that he had taken another step toward her, and she could not repress a shiver.
“Let us see just how adept you are with his works,” he murmured in the same low voice that heated her blood as though her every vein had been set ablaze.
“My soul is maddened by the thought of thee,
And from thy presence I am but withdrawn
To fevered dreams of what can never be.
For what is it but a vain longing,
An appetite that on the heart doth prey,
Yet feeds not the immortal part within?”
Adelaide gasped aloud as she felt the duke’s breath on the back of her neck as he read the last line.
She had been so lost in the enticing timbre of his voice that she had not realized he was moving closer as continued reading to her.
His warm breath stirred the loose strands of her hair on the back of her neck, causing her body to all but seize with a tremor of pleasure.
When she turned to face him, the hunger in his dark eyes was powerful enough to make her knees weak.
His large hand cupped her cheek, dwarfing her face as he held it with exceptional gentleness.
His touch belied his beast-like reputation, and Adelaide was once more certain that a man with a touch so soft could not be as horrible as rumors claimed.
She held her breath as he brought his face down to hers, her heart beating wildly in her chest. In the dim firelight, his eyes yearned for much more than a kiss from her.
The first brush of his lips against hers held the same tenderness as his hand.
However, it did not take long before the kiss blazed into something wild and passionate.
She moaned softly against his lips, both glad and terrified that she had read his intentions correctly in his gaze.
She pressed her body against him, willing him to sense her urgent eagerness for him, just as she could feel his for her against her body.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, thinking too late of the last time she did that.
She froze, concerned that he would push her away and flee, just like he had once before.
This time, however, he uttered a low, pleasured growl, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against his solid warmth.
She softly cried out, stifling her voice with his lips.
They were both trembling, but Adelaide knew it was from no ailment.
Adelaide wondered how much longer her shaking legs would support her yearning body.
The Duke pulled back, just enough that he could look into her eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked, searching her face for something. Rejection? Fear? Indecisiveness? She was not sure. But if he needed reassurance that this was what she wanted, she would give it to him.
“Yes,” she whispered, hardly able to catch her breath. “Please, kiss me again.”
***
When Miss Barrett pleaded with him to kiss her again, his physical craving for her became almost painful.
His kisses became desperate as his longing beat wildly against his composure.
Each time she arched against him, and he felt the softness of her skin, barely covered in her thin nightclothes, and the delicate curves beneath them, the passion he had meticulously stowed away in her presence swelled, poised to burst forth with a fierce abruptness.
Her shawl slipped from her shoulders under his questing hands, and she murmured with pleasure as his warm hands touched the bare skin beneath.
“Marcus,” she whispered, pressing herself against him and gripping his loosened shirt as if in refusal to release him.
His remaining control broke. He held her against him with one hand while expertly removing his shirt with the other.
He then worked to remove her shawl, untying the ribbon which held it over her nightgown.
It fell to the floor, leaving beneath it the thin gown, which was terribly askew on her body, and nothing else between him and her.
He moaned, licking his lips and wanting nothing more than to have her immediately.
However, his protective nature fought against his otherwise untamable longing.
He forced himself back to assess her eyes, looking for any indication of reluctance or hesitation.
“Adelaide, you are beautiful,” he whispered, forcing his caresses to return to their previous tenderness. “I will not pursue this unless you are certain.”
Adelaide shivered when he said her name. Her lips parted and she closed the distance between them once more. She raised her hand, stopping an inch away from his torso. He smiled, covering her hand in his large one and delicately kissing her fingertips.
“It is all right, Adelaide,” he said, caressing her collarbone to encourage her. “Go on. Listen to your body. It will tell you what to do.”
She looked at him shyly, her tentative fingers trailing the plains of his exposed chest. The kisses that followed the path traversed by her fingertips were just as innocent, making the beast within him roar to satiate his yearning.
“I have never been less certain about something,” she said breathlessly, with what he could see was her first coy smile. “However, I have never wanted something more, either.”
She blushed at once, as though embarrassed by her forwardness. However, the innocent boldness and her continued exploration of his body with her curious, excited fingers were enough to bring Marcus to his decision with her.
“Then allow me to show you the way,” he growled softly, panting as her hands reached his waist and the obstruction between them. Only then did he see uncertainty in her expression, and he knew she was doubting herself.
He nodded, smiling with gentle encouragement, guiding her hands as she felt her way around removing his breeches.
She gasped again when they were gone, melting into him and kissing him deeply again.
He slowly removed her nightgown, tossing it aside with the rest of their abandoned clothing.
With her completely exposed to him, Marcus’s longing reached a height that was impossible to contain.
He picked her up, carrying her to the elongated oak desk in the middle of the room, just in front of the fireplace.
Poetry volumes tumbled to the floor, instantly forgotten as any sense of propriety gave way to their combined primal need.
The firelight cast detailed shadows over their bare skin as Marcus placed her delicately on the wooden surface, kissing her from neck to the gentle curve in the center of her abdomen.
She laced her fingers through his hair, responding with longing with each brush of his lips.
She sat up, leaving her own kisses along the muscles between his sternum and his navel. He encouraged her by stroking her loose braid, slowly working it free so that her hair tumbled freely down her back and over her shoulder.
“Like molten honey,” he murmured, pausing to bury his face in its lavender scent. “Adelaide, you are wonderful.”
Adelaide looked up at him with blazing blue-green eyes, emboldened by the gentle tenderness his reputation judged him incapable of possessing. Then, she lay back once more, waiting for him to claim her. And claim her, he did.
Each gentle touch and whispered endearment during their coupling filled Marcus not just with bliss, but with a healing and comfort he once believed he would never deserve.
Her every murmured affirmation with his every movement and touch told him that her pleasure was as great as his own.
He was so enraptured with the feel of her and the beautiful passion of the moment that he spoke words he had buried deep within him since the first kiss they shared.
“I love you, Adelaide,” he murmured in her ear.
Adelaide met his lips with hers, pressing a gasp against his mouth.
“I love you, Marcus,” she breathed. They moaned together as the expression of their trust and affection transcended mere physical passion. Marcus had never experienced anything so strong in its beauty, and the height of their joining was a joy he was sure could never be replicated.
***
Adelaide awoke as the first streaks of dawn light crept into the library.
She and Marcus ended up on the rug in front of the fireplace.
She was wrapped in his coat, while he had replaced his breeches, leaving the rest of his clothes strewn across the floor.
She gazed at him, drinking in the perfection of his frame.
They had crossed a line that could not be uncrossed, and she could hardly believe the previous night had happened.
The truest evidence that it had was in the slow, sleepy smile he gave her as he stirred.
“Good morning, my beauty,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ear and away from her barely covered bosom.
Adelaide blushed, kissing his hand as he slowly withdrew it.
“Good morning, darling,” she said with a sweet smile.
Marcus sat up, stretching his firm body as he rid himself of his blissful sleep.
“I must leave you now,” he said, giving her a deep kiss. “However, this has meant more to me than I can say now. Do not fret: this will not affect our relationship.”
Adelaide beamed at him, rising with him as he stood.
“Is that so?” she teased. She was nervous, as she did not know what would happen. However, the glimmer in Marcus’s eyes made her hopeful that they had much more than physical acts in their future.
Marcus nodded, kissing her once more.
“It is,” he said, donning his shirt and cravat and placing his jacket back on the chair beside the fireplace before moving to the door. “I shall see you at breakfast.”
Adelaide nodded, watching him leave. She hurriedly dressed, covering herself tightly with her shawl as she rushed quietly up the stairs and to her quarters.
His farewell kiss lingered on her lips as she quickly locked the door to her chambers.
She twirled just inside the closed door.
She had yearned for the previous night more than she had ever longed for anything.
However, the warm, tingling bliss within her was far more than she could have ever imagined.
She was so overjoyed that she almost did not see the piece of paper slide across the floor as it caught her foot. She blinked, briefly confused as she followed its path and reached to pluck it from the ground. She opened it, her delight dissipating and her heart dropping as she read it.
Look what happened to the last woman who got too close to the beast. Your death will break him completely.
The note was more cryptic than the last had been.
Was someone trying to warn her about Marcus endangering her himself, or were they concerned for his well-being if something tragic were to happen to her?
Her hands trembled at the thought of what would happen to Marcus if he lost someone else he loved so dearly.
No, she thought, shaking her head firmly, crumpling the note.
She strode across the room, tossing the note in the lit fireplace.
As she watched it burn, she made two decisions.
She would never tell Marcus about the threats, and she would not let anyone drive her away from him.
Whatever her fate might be, she would rather endure it with Marcus as hers rather than without him.
And if the previous night was any indication, he felt the same way.