Chapter 28
In Which the Duke Receives a Thoroughly Educative and Memorable Lesson…
Xavier swallowed as he contemplated Emmeline Chase’s slender back.
Above the collar of her severe navy uniform, the elegant ivory column of her neck rose.
Tiny curls of coppery hair that had escaped the harsh confines of her bun delicately caressed her nape and he itched to touch her there.
To savor the texture of her satiny skin and to rub the soft tendrils of her hair between his fingertips.
To trace a path with his tongue along her freckles and delve into her secret hollows and learn all the intimate ways that he could make her desire bloom.
In truth, Xavier yearned to touch and taste and explore Emmeline everywhere just like he’d done in all his libidinous fantasies. To make her arch and whimper with pleasure over and over again.
And very soon, he would.
He licked his lips. His throat was suddenly so tight with lust and longing, he had to clear it before he could speak.
“You’re right,” he managed, his voice thick and husky.
“I can think of nothing more diverting than helping you undress.” Of course, he couldn’t wait to see the divine Emmeline in all her naked glory, but what was the point in rushing when they had all the time in the world?
Although, a particularly male part of Xavier was urging him to hurry up and get on with it. Indeed, his member was throbbing so much, he prayed he wouldn’t lose control and become completely undone even before Emmeline had the chance to remove a single hairpin or stocking.
Good God. Even the thought of seeing her bare pink toes was making him stiffer than an iron poker.
He began to slide Emmeline’s hairpins free, relishing the slide of her silken hair and the occasional brush of her fingers as they worked together to loosen her magnificent locks.
As soon as they tumbled down her back and over her shoulders without restraint, Xavier cast aside her pins and lifted the bright curling mass with both his hands, burying his face in it.
Inhaling the heady scent of the floral soap she used.
Emmeline looked over her shoulder at him. “My buttons won’t undo themselves, Your Grace.”
Straightaway, Xavier gently swept her hair over her other shoulder, exposing the back of her gown again. “You make another good point, my love,” he all but growled as he began to work loose the row of fiddly, tiny jet fastenings. “How the devil do you manage to get into and out of this every day?”
She shrugged. “I’m flexible,” she said, and Xavier’s manhood immediately jerked. Dear God, if he didn’t spend in his trousers, it would be a miracle.
“You’re a delectable witch,” he grumbled. At last, the sides of her navy wool bodice sagged open, and he raised his hands to her shoulders to help her slide the tight sleeves down her slim but tautly muscled arms.
A lather of impatience, he quickly made short work of her acres of stiff crinoline petticoats and then she was turning to face him clad only in her corset, chemise, drawers, stockings, and boots. And of course, there was the sheathed knife that she kept strapped to her ankle.
She caught him looking at that tiny dagger and laughed. ( Bloody hell. Even the light tinkling sound of her mirth was making him unbearably hard.) “Don’t tell me that you’re wondering if you can cut the rest of my garments away.”
Xavier cocked a brow. “I thought you could only read my raven’s thoughts.
” (He had actually been thinking that.) He studied the fastenings of her corset—it appeared to be secured by a fiendish row of metal hooks and eyes—and he scowled.
“What’s this godawful suit of armor constructed from anyway? Whalebone or steel?”
She propped her hands on her slender waist and jutted a hip (the damnable wench). “Steel of course. All the better for protecting one from an assailant’s blade.”
“Or a randy duke’s sword,” he muttered from between clenched teeth. He’d been wrong. This activity had rapidly moved from “fun” and “diverting” to unmitigated torture in the blink of an eye.
He raised his hands to undo the hooks and eyes, but his fingers brushed the very tops of her breasts—the plump flesh not concealed by her corset—and an involuntary groan tumbled from his throat.
“You poor man,” murmured Emmeline. “Let me put you out of your misery. Close your eyes and I’ll have this pesky corset gone in a jiffy.”
Xavier wasn’t about to argue and complied. “I thought you didn’t know any disrobing spells,” he said, intrigued by the sounds of fastenings popping open and the soft rustle and slide of fabric.
“I don’t,” she replied. “I’m just very good with my hands.”
Xavier chuckled at that. “I usually am too.” He could create and repair watches, manipulating impossibly minuscule parts, but present him with a woman’s corset and he was all fumbling thumbs.
But this was his first time doing anything like this.
And even though he was eager and more than ready to make love with Emmeline, he was also nervous.
He wanted to impress the woman he loved.
Give her untold satisfaction. With her patient and expert tutelage, he had done so a month ago. But they hadn’t done everything .
He hadn’t been inside her.
At that moment his most masculine part throbbed in earnest as if to remind him, Yes, I haven’t been inside her, you great clodpole. I’m in sheer agony. What are you waiting for?
“You can open your eyes now, Your Grace…”
Xavier did and he almost exploded on the spot. “Emmeline. My God,” he breathed as his hungry gaze devoured her. “You’re not just beautiful. You’re exquisite.”
Naked but for her cascading waves of titian hair, Emmeline was a work of art—the perfect combination of softly rounded curves and slender elegant limbs.
Her alabaster skin was lightly freckled in places he’d never expected.
Her plump breasts with their dusky pink tips and the soft ginger curls at the apex of her thighs made his mouth water with keen anticipation.
Holding out his shaking hands, Xavier helped Emmeline step out of the puddle of her discarded clothes.
Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he gathered her close, stroking his hands over almost every satin-smooth inch of her.
Without her heeled boots on, she suddenly seemed so very small and delicate.
Something to be cherished and handled with the greatest care.
“I want you, so very much,” he murmured, his voice raw and rasping.
She slid her hands up his chest and then cradled his taut jaw between her soft palms. “I know,” she whispered. “And I can’t wait for you to have me.” Standing on her bare tiptoes, she stretched up and kissed his throat. “Make me yours, Xavier.”
Xavier groaned and his resolve to take care disintegrated.
Swooping down, he claimed her mouth in a hard, almost brutal kiss.
His great need, his impatience was making him rough and clumsy.
But Emmeline didn’t seem to mind that she was crushed against him while he plundered her mouth like a starving man.
She kissed him back with a fervor that matched his, her lips sliding just as urgently, her tongue tasting him just as desperately.
This young woman was strong and bold and passionate with a backbone of steel. She would not break.
He needed to get her on the bed and then he needed to strip.
He tore his mouth from hers and scooped her up, conveying her across the room in a handful of strides before laying her gently on the blue silk counterpane.
“Xavier,” she whispered, holding out her arms. “Come to me.”
“Not quite yet.” He began to throw off his clothes, almost strangling himself as he grappled with his necktie and collar.
Emmeline sat up and began to help, deftly sliding off his coat before tugging the buttons of his waistcoat undone.
When Xavier was down to his trousers and nothing else, Emmeline bit her lip coquettishly.
“May I do the honors?” she purred as she placed a hand upon his taut abdomen, just above his waistband. Even that light touch was the sweetest agony.
“I’m afraid that if you do, I won’t last,” he groaned helplessly.
“I want to pleasure you first.” He climbed onto the bed beside Emmeline and drew her down with him.
Stroked a hand along her side and along the flat plane of her belly before he dared to cup her bare breast. “I want to make sure that you achieve satisfaction before we come together as one.”
“You don’t have to,” she whispered, her blue eyes aglow, her smile soft. She caressed his chest and everything inside Xavier pulsed and throbbed and burned.
He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “But I do. I’ve dreamed of this, Emmeline. Will you let me?”
She lay back and looked up at him through her lashes. “Do what you will with me, my husband-to-be.”
So Xavier did. He kissed her long and slow and deeply until Emmeline was breathless and moaning. Then he focused all his attention on her beautiful breasts, teasing and fondling and licking for countless minutes, driving himself mad and her wild.
But he wouldn’t stop there. Xavier was determined to have more of her. He wanted the taste of Emmeline’s most intimate, feminine place on his tongue. He wanted to savor her very essence.
He slid down her body and his sweet Emmeline, guessing his intent, parted her thighs for him. He found that she was warm and wet and wanting.
She wanted him .
The mere notion was the most potent of drugs, yet humbling at the same time. Xavier swallowed. He licked his lips. His heart was almost pounding out of his chest. He had only ever read about this decadent act, and he desperately didn’t want to disappoint the woman he loved.
He looked up the length of Emmeline’s body and caught her gaze. “If you don’t like anything that I do, you must tell me. Remember, I lack practical experience.”