Chapter 11
Adrumming of hasty footsteps raised Philip’s gaze from the morning paper and the cup of tea he had been about to enjoy.
It was his custom to spend an hour in the library of a morning before duty confined him to the study to write endless letters and oversee the estate.
He wasn’t fond of small spaces where he was aware of the four walls surrounding him. The library, vast as it was, with long diamond-paned windows to let in the daylight, allowed him to trick his mind into believing he was not so enclosed.
How many times must I tell Lizzy not to run in the hallways?
He braced himself to give another lecture, but it wasn’t Lizzy who barreled into the library.
A pleasing vision in dark green halted to catch her breath. Her hands dug into that temptingly narrow waist as she bent forward, a few locks of chocolate hair spilling downward.
He quirked an eyebrow as her ripe, full bosom also threatened to spill. It certainly woke up his senses far faster than any cup of tea could.
“I cannot imagine what is in this library that would require such a rush,” he said, knowing full well that she was unaware of his presence.
Selina shrieked and whirled around, one hand splayed on that ample bosom as ragged breaths caused it to heave.
Goodness, she was beautiful.
Beauty, he could have overlooked, reined himself in, but her looks were the least interesting thing about her. It was the fire and the fight in her that had kept him awake most of last night. The sharp intellect and the—probably ill-advised—determination in her to keep him on his toes.
And that murmur of ‘Your Grace,’ practically inviting him to do whatever he pleased.
“I did not know anyone was in here,” she finally managed to say.
Her back straightened, and her breathing slowed. She would not look him in the eye.
“Evidently,” he said.
Clearing her throat, she moved forward. “I shan’t disturb you for long, Your Grace. I just wanted to borrow a book to take out into the gardens.”
He watched her approach the bookcases, appreciating her comely shape. Curvy hips and that tempting bosom, the hourglass of her perfectly crafted by that narrow waist. The heavens had certainly taken their time when they had made her.
The forest green of her dress complemented the alabaster of her skin and made her dark hair seem that much richer. His hands itched to gently wrap around those locks and twist them.
You will have her fleeing again in two seconds if you keep staring at her like that.
“What sort of book?” he asked, rising. “Perhaps I can help.”
“No!” she gasped. “I mean, no, thank you. Finding the book is half the enjoyment.”
He hesitated by the reading desk where he took his morning tea. “At least permit me to point you in the right direction.” He gestured around the extensive library. “A novel? A history book? Something about the sciences? What is your desire, My Lady?”
That stirring pink flush colored her cheeks, and she ducked behind the bookcase. “I… do not yet know.”
I doubt that.
He smiled, remembering how her green eyes had widened last night, how they had shone, reflecting his hunger back at him just for a moment.
He walked down the wide central aisle of the library and leaned against the edge of the row of bookcases where she was browsing.
“Ah, I have found it!” she declared, her body stretching upward to reach a higher shelf.
His gaze flitted down to the glimpse of stockinged ankles, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip as he imagined peeling those stockings away. Kissing bare skin. Those ankles locked around his neck as he dipped his head between her thighs.
“What has caught your attention?” His voice was thick with want, and it kept him at a distance. He would not risk getting any closer.
She stepped back, the book clasped to her chest. “A book about flowers. What else would I read in a garden?”
An awkward laugh left her full lips.
“Melody would love this,” she added.
“Melody?”
She nodded. “A friend of mine. Actually, a friend of Lizzy’s too.”
“I have been meaning to ask how you came to know my sister,” he said, a few pieces beginning to fall into place. “Is that how you met? Through this Melody woman?”
Considering their families were supposed to be sworn enemies, never meant to move in the same circles, it had been rather strange to see such obvious warmth between Selina and Lizzy.
“We sort of… found each other a year ago,” Selina said hesitantly. “There was a tea party for the ladies who would be debuting the following Season. Debutantes from the previous year and debutantes of the current year shared their experiences and… offered guidance and sisterhood, I suppose.”
A flicker of unease turned her gaze back to the rows of books, like overcrowded teeth on the shelves. The essence of a secret she wasn’t leaving out.
“That is where your little book club began?” Philip asked. “Is it just the three of you?”
Her throat bobbed. “The three of us are… our own branch of the book club. We read the same book, we write to one another about it, and we meet whenever we can. The ‘book club’ is… Well, I can’t tell you about it.”
“It’s a dangerous thing to leave a man in suspense.”
He edged closer, despite knowing he shouldn’t. Perhaps he could kiss her secrets out of her, make her cry them out as he teased her, touched her, revealed some secrets that no club of hers would ever teach her.
“I can’t,” she wheezed, backing off. “It is not my secret to tell.”
“Might it have something to do with that charming letter that brought you here?”
It wasn’t a great leap of logic to make, between her shy looks and her clandestine air.
“I should really go enjoy the gardens while the weather is nice,” she said.
He had pushed too far again. She was seconds from running, and he found he did not want her to leave just yet.
“Read in here.” He walked back to the desk, where his tea was probably cold. “I thought it would rain earlier. It would be a pity to get your book of flowers all wet.”
She appeared at the edge of the bookcase as he sat down and picked up his cup, sipping from it. His gaze dropped to the paper he had been reading, putting on a show of indifference, of busyness.
A short while later, she tiptoed over to the comfortable reading chair a short distance away, angled so that he could see her profile.
Her posture was too rigid for someone about to relax into the joys of a book, and he got the sense she was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
He continued to read his paper and sip his tea, and little by little, she loosened up. First, she tucked her legs underneath her, shifting in the chair. Then, she rested her cheek on her hand, the book open in her lap.
If he had been a painter, he would have immortalized the moment. She looked like a posed muse, ready to have her resemblance admired for centuries to come.
“An interesting read, then?” he asked some ten minutes later. His tea was finished, his paper read from front to back. He couldn’t help it.
She glanced up slowly, a peaceful expression on her face. “It is lovely. I never knew there were so many kinds of orchids.” She blinked as if remembering herself. “Do you have an interest in botany, Your Grace?”
“None whatsoever.” He leaned back in his chair. “There are a few rare varieties of flower in the orangery, though.”
Her eyes refused to blink. “The… orangery?”
“Mm, yes. That little building we walked by last night.”
It was a subject that needed broaching. So as not to set her running for the hills, he figured he would approach it gently. Subtly. Gauge her reaction at every step before continuing, much as he would have done last night if not for his sister’s interruption spooking her.
She was out of the chair in an instant. “You know what, the weather still looks rather fine to me. I think I shall see if I can match the flowers to any in the gardens. I may ask Lizzy to join me if she is not occupied.”
Philip was two steps ahead of her, literally and figuratively. By the time she reached the door, he was already there, his palm pressing against the wood to keep it shut.
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” she urged impatiently, her back to him. “I should like to be alone.”
“We both know that isn’t true,” he replied.
She tried to yank on the door handle, but her pulling was futile against his strength. All he had to do was lean forward slightly with his weight, and there was nothing she could do.
“Please, Your Grace. I need to clear my head.” She turned around, her eyes fever bright. Desperate, not with panic, but with something he couldn’t quite decipher.
“Not so soon, my bride.” He pressed his other palm to the door, his arms bracketing her head, holding her there. “It seems we need to set some rules, you and I.”
You are every bit a devil, and I keep wandering into your hellfire.
Selina couldn’t take a full breath, trapped between Philip’s muscular, warm body and the door. There was a gap between them, but it might as well not have been there for all the difference it made.
How was she supposed to argue or protest when all she could think about was his broad chest straining against the buttons of his waistcoat, or the fact that his collar was open, revealing his corded neck, or what his powerful arms might feel like if she gripped them?
Not that she could hope to get a hand around them.
Lifting her attention to the dangerous territory of his lips… the rush of blood in her ears didn’t quite drown out the sound of his words.
“Rules?” she managed to cough, taken aback.
“Yes, rules. You have heard of those before?”
She swallowed. “I have, but—”
“Here’s one,” he interrupted, the dip of his head bringing that sweet mouth closer to hers. “You cannot walk away from me unless I’m done with you.”
It took a great effort to press herself further back into the door. An even greater effort to narrow her eyes at him in defiance as she replied, “Well, what makes you think I would follow your rules, Your Grace?”
“This.”
She had expected words, not the sudden crush of his mouth against hers. Shocked, hands instinctively reaching for his lapels to steady herself, she forgot all about the book. It dropped to the floor with a thud, her mind absently wondering which page it had landed on.
Any other thoughts soon vanished. Every bit of her—body, mind, soul—was swept up in the fierce graze of his kiss. Each catch of his mouth teaching her what to do, guiding her. Even so, it took her a second to quieten her shock enough to kiss him back.
He seemed to smile at the first daring press of her lips, and his arm snaked around her waist, his body closing that useless gap between them.
She kissed him harder. Instinct was a powerful thing, and hers was taking over. Maybe now she could refer to the countless secret books she had read as research and time well spent, although what she had devoured in those novels was nothing compared to this.
This was what she wished she could have read about: the heat, the intensity, the way each graze of his lips connected to every nerve inside her, firing them up; the primeval nature of it, urges and intuitions that had been lying dormant, waiting for an opportunity to come alive.
She tightened her hold on his lapels, and his body pressed into hers, pushing her back into the door. His hand was on her neck, his thumb running down her throat, and as he caressed down to her bosom, her very breath responded to the touch.
Like some kind of sorcerer, he had control of her entirely.
A searching hand followed the curve of her breast, grasping for soft flesh. Even through her dress and stays, she felt it as if there were no barriers between them at all. And when he dipped his head to kiss the swell of her breasts, she arched to meet the burn of his lips.
She had become a wild thing, untamed and unrestrained, every part of her yearning for every part of him, even those parts that were as yet unknown.
His mouth found hers again, his tongue flicking against hers. The strangely thrilling sensation prompted her to try it for herself. Her tongue glided against his, her kiss turning hungrier, more fervent. Eager to know more, experience more.
But as his hand slid down the valley between her breasts and traced a line along her stomach, moving ever lower, the maid’s words from this morning whispered through the ragged sound of mingled breath.
He has not been able to devote himself to one lady at any one time. I will have to share him.
Then again, if she never knew what it was she would have to share, then perhaps it wouldn’t be a cause for future strife. If she never allowed herself a taste, she wouldn’t hunger for it.
I will not be just another conquest.
The thought was sharp and clear as a warning bell in her head.
As he moved to catch her mouth with his, she turned her face. Her palms pushed against his chest, holding him back—if not with actual strength, then with obvious meaning.
He stepped back, frowning. Some of the steely frostiness returned to his eyes.
“Selina?” He spoke her name softly, confused.
My name…
He had not tried to torment her with ‘my love’ or ‘My Lady,’ speaking just her name. Dropping the honorifics. She had never thought her name beautiful, but from his lips, in that moment, it almost made her turn back to him to receive the kiss she knew he meant to offer.
Almost.
Skirting around him, Selina stooped to pick up her book and dust off the leatherbound cover. Hopefully, there was no harm done to the pages within.
With her hand on the door handle, she shot him a dark look. “I hope you have no other rules, Your Grace, for I don’t plan on obeying any.”
Now that he had stepped away, there was enough space for her to pull the door wide enough to escape.
Not waiting to hear his response, she slipped through the gap and hurried off, her heart in her throat as she listened for the sound of a pursuit that graciously did not come.