12. Chapter 12
twelve
T he clock struck nine and Jenny rose from her dressing table, where she’d been needlessly fussing with a flyaway tendril at her temple.
She stared at the door she shared with David as if the gongs would summon him like magic, as if he was on his side waiting for them to claim what was his by rights.
He didn’t knock. She swallowed and glanced at her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror to make sure she was presentable.
The nightdress and robe she wore were cotton and a blush pink color that perfectly matched the blush on her cheeks.
It was a plain garment with little adornment aside from a thin trim of lace.
Dinner had been a formal affair. He had sat across the broad table from her and been an amicable host as two footmen had served them. But they’d both been reserved. In Jenny’s case, she’d been so nearly overcome with anticipation and second thoughts that she’d barely eaten a thing.
Her stomach was still roiling with nerves as she opened the door to the bathing chamber. The space was predictably vacant. The clawfoot bath on its raised marble slab sat empty. The twin lavatories were dormant, as was the toilet closet, which stood with its door ajar.
Still, her heart gave a lurch against her rib cage but then steadied itself. One barrier down, one to go. She walked quietly in bare feet to his bedchamber door. Then quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, she gave a firm knock.
He opened the door immediately, as if he’d been standing on the other side waiting. “Jenny,” he said, but he didn’t follow her name with anything. He simply stared, taking in the loose fit of her clothing and her toes peeking from the bottom before he made it back up to her face.
He wore the same dressing gown he’d had on that morning.
The top few buttons of the dressing gown were undone and fell into a deep V, revealing a bit of dark chest hair and the hint of sculpted muscle.
The midnight blue fabric hung down to his ankles.
She’d never considered a man’s feet before but there was something strangely attractive about his.
They were strong and masculine and gave her a glimpse of the body hiding beneath his dressing gown. He didn’t seem to be wearing trousers.
“I thought…perhaps…we should get started,” she said, “if you’re ready.”
His eyes simmered with heat. “I’m ready.” He held the door open for her.
While his room was probably the same size as hers, it seemed grander somehow.
For one, his bed was larger and overbearing.
The headboard was intricately carved wood and the four posts were thicker than her thighs.
It was also set on a platform that raised it at least a foot and a canopy surged overhead.
The walls were gleaming and dark but several tapestries were hung around the room in a similar style to the ones in his sitting room.
Where beautiful tapestries didn’t hang, priceless art and statuettes were set.
It was a room fit for royalty…or a future duke.
She really didn’t belong here .
She glanced down at her nightclothes. They were the fanciest ones she owned due to the lace trim. When Mr. Hathaway had given them a bit of money for their Season wardrobe, she’d used hers on clothing people would actually see. Not nightgowns and robes.
His eyes took in every detail of her, but she couldn’t ascertain what he thought of the garment.
Aside from the heat flickering in his eyes, his mask hid his thoughts well.
It was that polite yet distant exterior gained from centuries of aristocratic breeding.
It gave him the aura of being untouchable, unflappable, and infinitely unattainable.
“Would you care for a drink?” he asked, indicating a table across the room that held various brown liquors and cut crystal glasses.
Did he frequently entertain in his bedchamber? She didn’t want to know the answer to that. She vaguely remembered overhearing some scandal about him bringing the wife of a Prussian diplomat to Heathercote and falling out of favor with the Crown.
“No, thank you.” She’d only had a couple of sips of wine at dinner because she hadn’t wanted to chance a repeat of last night when she’d accidentally overindulged due to nerves.
He started walking toward her and she felt suddenly skittish and had to fight not to back away.
He stopped a few inches from her, close enough she could feel the heat from him.
There was a discernible bulge in the vicinity of his groin.
Heat instantly built between her thighs and she began to ache ever so slightly.
Something violent fluttered in her stomach and her breasts tightened, her nipples pebbling. “You can have a drink if you’d like,” she whispered.
“No.” He shook his head and reached for her very slowly, so slowly she wasn’t sure what he meant to do.
Her entire body was on heightened awareness, each part of her wanting to be chosen for attention by him.
He settled on her hands, drawing them into his own.
His index finger made lazy little circles on her palms.
God help her, she didn’t know how to be this close to him and not feel something more than desire.
She couldn’t do this. She could not lie with him and then pretend nothing had happened.
She didn’t have the ability he did. She couldn’t pretend that sex was an act to be performed without feeling.
This predilection for attachment had gotten her in trouble once before.
As if sensing the upheaval inside her, he let her hands slide free and stepped around her.
The fingertips of one hand trailed across her hip, sending shivers through her.
She looked down to hide the turmoil she was certain was evident on her face.
Whatever he thought, he didn’t seem to believe she was in the middle of reconsidering their deal.
He stepped so close that his front touched her back, so close that she could feel how hard he was. Part of his erection settled at the base of her spine. Heat darted through her core and raised gooseflesh on her arms.
He dropped his head, his hot breath tickling her ear. She leaned back into him, yearning toward the physical touch of his lips, but he didn’t give it to her. He breathed softly and the tip of his nose traced the shell of her ear before he moved closer, dipping into her hair.
“You smell divine,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes and let his own scent wash over her. “So do you.” She wanted to tell him how she’d always loved his cologne or soap or whatever it was that made him smell so nice, but comments like that would only pull her in deeper.
She imagined she felt the shape of his smile but she couldn’t be sure. Then he dipped down farther and his lips brushed her neck. Not a kiss exactly, but a slow glide along her skin.
“I want to undress you,” he said .
His hands had come to rest on her hips, a light touch that she could easily step away from if only she had the will. His lips found their way across the back of her neck to her other ear where he paused, and she realized that his declaration had been a request for permission.
She took in a breath. There would be no going back after this.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He immediately found the tie on her robe and deftly pulled the cord to free it.
The robe came open and he pushed it down her arms, where it swished to the floor at their feet.
His hands went back to her hips, the thin cotton of her nightgown separating them, and then roamed up her stomach.
She tried to suck in since she had no corset to keep her waist small, but he only tightened his grip a little, his fingers clenching gently into her curves.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered, his hot breath blowing down her neck. “So very real.”
She relaxed and he pulled her back fully against him so he could revel in her, his hands roving restlessly across her stomach and hips until they began to inch upward.
Her breath stopped as his palms cupped the underside of her breasts, weighing them, manipulating them just enough to get the feel of them, and then he brushed his thumbs over the tips. Her breath came out in a rush of air.
“Do you like that?” His voice had an aching quality that appealed to her. “Are your nipples sensitive?”
She hadn’t known there would be this much talking, that he would expect her to say things. “Yes,” she managed but only barely.
He thumbed her again, following the shape of her areolas before tracing the outlines of her nipples through the fabric. “Here?” he asked.
She groaned in the back of her throat. “Yes. ”
“Or like this?” The pads of his thumbs flicked across the sensitive nubs, sending darts of arousal through her body.
This time she could only manage a “Huh.”
He kept up the steady rhythm and his hips jerked into her once as if he couldn’t control them.
His mouth found her ear again and he kissed her there.
It tickled at first, but his lips moved down the column of her neck, tasting her.
She never knew her neck was so sensitive but every flick of his tongue and press of his lips had her craving more.
She tilted to give him better access, and he made a rumbling sound in the back of his throat, as if her capitulation had set him off.
He abandoned her breasts and his arms went around her, pulling her back against him into a deep embrace.
Not a breadth of space remained between them. He was warm and strong behind her.
“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he said against the top of her head and placed a kiss there. “I can hardly believe this is real.”
She wrapped her arms around his and imagined she could feel his heart beating at her back, or maybe it was only an echo of her own. She hadn’t expected to feel cherished during this, but she did. He held her like he didn’t want to let her go.
“I feel the same,” she whispered before she could stop herself.