Chapter 19
In Which a Deal Is Adhered to; A Confidence Is Shared; And the Duke Receives a Much-Desired Lesson…
Oh goodness, what had she agreed to?
Her breath catching, Emmeline watched as the duke held up his right hand and deftly tugged on the glove’s fingertips, loosening the snug fit of the leather before he pulled it off altogether.
He tossed the glove onto the table beside his discarded brandy, then proceeded to remove the other one with equal efficiency.
“There you are, Mrs. Chase,” he said, amusement brimming in his voice as he held up his bare hands, turning them this way, then that. “Aren’t you in awe?”
Emmeline swallowed. “They are very handsome,” she murmured huskily.
It wasn’t a lie. Just as she’d imagined, the duke’s hands were strong yet elegant looking.
His fingers were long, and his nails were neatly trimmed into precise crescents.
Fine black hairs dusted the backs. She could even see the outline of a vein or two.
She bit her lip as images of what he could do with those hands—those fingers—tumbled through her mind.
Her face grew hotter than the dancing fire before them.
He chuckled, the sound rich and delicious. “Handsome hands. I’ll accept the compliment, Mrs. Chase.” Then his gaze grew darker. Hotter. “Now your turn. Off with your cap.”
“Very well…” Emmeline tugged at the ribbon beneath her chin then pulled off the matronly head covering and tossed it beside the duke’s gloves. “There. Will that do?”
The duke’s gaze wandered over her, tracing the line of her plait, which hung over one shoulder. He didn’t answer her question. Instead he murmured, “I had no idea your hair was so long. It really is wondrous to behold.”
Emmeline had the sudden urge to unbind it and let it tumble loose about her shoulders, but she didn’t.
The slippery slope she was on was getting slipperier by the second.
(So were particular parts of her person, which was clearly a warning sign that Offstage Emmeline might put in an appearance at any moment. And who knew what she would do?)
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she managed. Then the mantel clock and longcase clock both heralded the hour in perfect unison. It was midnight. “I suppose I should be going to bed. Or I’ll be sure to turn into a pumpkin.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Ever the gentleman, the duke rose to his feet as she did. “I wish you sweet dreams.”
Emmeline knew her dreams would be anything but sweet.
They’d be hot and delicious and would heavily feature the duke’s bare hands doing all sorts of wonderfully wicked things to her body.
She reached for her discarded cap on the table beside the duke’s gloves, just as the duke did too.
Their fingers brushed, and a sizzling heat rushed up Emmeline’s arm, engulfing her entirely.
Both of them sucked in startled breaths. Their gazes collided.
“Emmeline,” the duke whispered huskily. His warm fingers curled around hers, tugging her closer. “Sweet Emmeline.”
In the next moment, Emmeline was in the duke’s arms, kissing him hungrily. She gripped the duke’s wide shoulders while he clasped her face. One of his hands slid to the back of her head, his fingers spearing into her hair, wreaking ruin on her loose braid.
Oh, dear Lord. If the study were burning, Emmeline wouldn’t have cared. Neither did she care that anything within her resembling prudent thought or prim behavior had gone up in flames. All that mattered was this dizzying kiss and the glorious feeling of being wanted by this man.
Of having her desires satisfied. Wanton Emmeline was practically performing backflips and cartwheels and somersaults across the stage.
They broke apart. “We shouldn’t,” she whispered, want thrumming fiercely though her veins, gathering low in her belly and making her nipples peak and ache.
It took everything within her not to throw off her dressing gown and undo the buttons of her nightgown, baring her breasts to the duke’s gaze. To his touch. His kisses…
“Yes. You’re right. We said we wouldn’t kiss again after the first time. That we’d forget all about it…” The duke was rubbing the curling ends of her plait between his fingertips. He swallowed. “We shouldn’t.”
His burning blue eyes lifted to hers. “But I can’t help it. I want you so very much. It’s like I’ve taken a tiny sip of something utterly divine, and now I want the whole damn bottle.”
A heartbeat later, they were kissing once more, tongues tangling, hot ragged breaths melding.
Emmeline’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, and lust throbbed between her thighs.
She pressed herself against the duke’s long, lean, hard body like a wild creature in heat.
Her fingers tugged clumsily at his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers.
And when her palm found his taut abdomen, a deep groan rumbled in his throat.
Through the velvet of her robe and fabric of her nightgown, she could feel the duke’s great need for her. There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
But, but… Something sharp and thorny and thistlelike—a bothersome burr of a thought—pricked at the back of her mind. She needed to make something clear.
“Your Grace—”
“Xavier,” he all but growled. “When we’re being intimate like this, you must call me Xavier.”
He dragged his lips across her jawline. Nipped at her earlobe then soothed the spot with his tongue.
Oh, she couldn’t think when he did that.
“Xavier,” she murmured. “I… I want to go further than kisses. I want more than a little taste. And I know you do too. But I need…” She inhaled a shaky breath and caught his heavy-lidded gaze.
“Before we do anything else, I need you to know that this isn’t me offering myself to you as a form…
as a form of payment… for what you did for my father today.
I’m not like that. I don’t want you to think badly of me. ”
“What?” The duke—Xavier—drew back. His black brows had slanted into a frown.
“Of course I don’t think that. I would never expect that from you or any woman.
You don’t owe me anything, Emmeline. I’m not the sort of nobleman who demands sexual favors.
I certainly don’t want you to be with me out of gratitude, or worse, because you feel obliged to.
” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.
“And I would never, ever think ill of you. I have nothing but the highest regard and admiration for you.”
Emmeline nodded. “I believe you,” she murmured.
“Good,” said Xavier in that irresistible, dark-melted-chocolate voice of his.
“Just be with me. Just this once. That’s all I ask.
Let me kiss you, touch you.” He dragged his hot mouth across her cheek, nuzzled her ear, making her shiver.
“We’re here because we both want to be,” he murmured thickly.
“Because we both need to ease this distracting, interminable ache that exists inside both of us.” Drawing back, he tipped her chin up with the crook of his finger. “Agreed?”
Helplessly ensnared in his smoldering gaze, Emmeline nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. The duke knew exactly how she felt because he felt it too. If she didn’t do something to appease the unspent desire sparking inside her, she might very well expire.
Just this once.
Once will be enough. Surely. And what harm could it do?
No one else will know. Just the duke and I.
Emmeline curled her fingers around Xavier’s side, tracing the smooth curve of his lean ribs. When he flinched a little, she frowned and withdrew her hand. “Do my caresses bother you? You told me once that you didn’t like unexpected touching.”
“No.” He smiled down at her. “Not at all. I’m simply not used to having someone else touch me there . And I’ve just discovered I’m ticklish in that area.”
Emmeline laughed softly. “The great Duke of St Lawrence is ticklish? Good heavens.” She wound her hands about his neck. “And how does it feel to touch me? Without your gloves on?”
Xavier bent his head and rested his forehead against hers.
“Amazing. Glorious,” he murmured. His bare hand rested against her neck, his thumb stroking her nape.
“Your skin is as soft and smooth as cream. Your lips feel like satin. Your tongue is like velvet and your hair reminds me of the finest silk. I want to sift it through my fingers. Bury my face in it. Watch the strands change color in the firelight.”
Oh my… “I’m beyond flattered,” Emmeline whispered. Jeremy had never said such beautiful things to her. And he was a playwright. A man who was supposed to be adept with words.
“It’s true,” said Xavier. And then he was kissing her again and Emmeline was spinning, spinning, spinning away into the stars.
At some point, Xavier pulled her down with him onto his wingchair so Emmeline was sitting across his lap.
When eventually they drew apart, both of them panting, Emmeline was smiling but Xavier wasn’t.
“What’s wrong?” she murmured, cupping his jaw. His night beard abraded her fingertips. “Are you having second thoughts about… about us being together like this?”
Xavier caught her hand and kissed her palm. “No, it’s not that. I need to tell you something. Something that you should know about me.”
“Well, I know you don’t have a secret wife hidden in the attic,” she said. “I’ve been up there.”
Xavier laughed too. “No, nothing as dramatic as all that. It’s a little embarrassing though.” Then he inhaled a deep breath as though he were about to hurl himself over a cliff into a freezing cold ocean. “I’ve… I’ve never been with a woman before.”
Oh… Emmeline touched his lean cheek where a muscle had begun to tick. “Are you telling me that you’re a virgin?”