Chapter Fifteen #2
The thin fabric clung to her curves, revealing far more than it concealed.
Her red hair tumbled loose over her shoulders, and the sunlight turned her skin to cream and gold.
She moved deeper, gasping as water reached her waist, and Adrian realised with stunning clarity that he was drowning in desire for her.
“You’re staring,” Cecilia observed, though she didn’t sound displeased.
“You’re beautiful.”
The honesty escaped before he could cage it. Her eyes widened, lips parting, and Adrian watched her pulse jump at her throat. “Adrian...” His name emerged breathless, questioning.
He moved closer, helpless against the pull. “You should go back to shore. Before I—”
“Before you what?”
Adrian closed the final distance, one hand finding her waist beneath the water, drawing her against him with deliberate slowness. She gasped as their bodies aligned, soft curves against hard muscle, her chemise no barrier at all to the heat building between them.
“Before I devour you,” he growled against her temple.
Her hands found his chest, fingers splaying across wet skin, and the touch sent lightning through his veins.
“Cecilia—”
“Kiss me.”
His mouth claimed hers. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, and when her tongue met his with eager exploration, Adrian groaned.
His hands roamed her back, mapping the flare of her hips.
When he gripped her bottom and lifted her against him, Cecilia’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, making them both gasp.
“God…” Adrian breathed against her lips. “You’re driving me mad.”
“Good.” She rolled her hips experimentally, and his vision nearly whited out.
He captured her mouth again, deeper this time, more desperate. His hands explored her with growing urgency—the soft weight of her breasts, the trembling muscles of her thighs, the way she gasped and arched when his thumbs brushed against her peaked nipples through soaked fabric.
“Adrian... please...”
The plea broke something fundamental inside him. Adrian carried her toward shallower water, never breaking the kiss, until he could set her on her feet near the grassy bank. She swayed slightly, dizzy with arousal, and he steadied her with hands that shook.
“Lie down,” he commanded, his voice gone guttural.
“What?”
“Lie down, Cecilia. Trust me.”
She obeyed, sinking onto the soft grass at the water’s edge, and Adrian followed her as water streamed from them both, soaking the ground, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the woman beneath him, lips swollen from his kisses, trembling with anticipation.
“I’m going to taste you,” he told her, settling between her spread thighs. “Every inch of you. And you’re going to let me.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh God… yes.”
Adrian kissed her inner thigh, feeling her muscles quiver beneath his lips. The wet chemise clung to her body like a second skin, and when he pushed it higher, exposing the pale curve of her belly, Cecilia’s breathing went ragged.
“Your Grace! YOUR GRACE!”
They both froze. Adrian shot upright, instinctively positioning himself between Cecilia and the approaching figure. A stable boy burst through the willows, his face panic-stricken.
“Your Grace! Come quick! There’s a fire—the east barn—it’s spreading fast!”
Adrian was on his feet instantly, mind already cataloguing priorities. “Get my horse. Now.”
The boy vanished as quickly as he’d appeared. Adrian turned to find Cecilia already struggling to her feet, attempting to straighten her dishevelled clothing.
“Adrian—”
“Get dressed. Quickly.” He pulled on his shirt with jerky movements. “We need to move.”
They rode back to Ravenscar Hall at breakneck speed, still dripping wet, clothes askew. Smoke billowed black and ugly against the summer sky, and Adrian’s chest constricted with cold fury.
By the time they reached the estate, organised chaos reigned. Adrian dismounted before his horse fully stopped, already barking orders.
“Form a water chain from the well! Move the animals to the north paddock! Someone fetch the physician—check for injuries!”
He threw himself into the work with focused intensity, directing the fire brigade, hauling water himself when needed.
Hours later, when the fire was finally contained and the immediate danger passed, Adrian stood in the smoke-darkened courtyard and watched his wife comfort a weeping maid.
She looked exhausted, soot-stained and devastatingly magnificent.
“Your Grace.”
Henry appeared at his elbow, his own clothes singed and dirty from fighting the flames. “Thank God you arrived when you did. Another hour and we’d have lost the entire stables.”
“How did it start?” Adrian kept his voice neutral despite the suspicion clawing at his gut.
“Oil lamp, apparently. One of the grooms must have forgotten to extinguish it before leaving for supper.” Henry’s expression was appropriately devastated. “Pure carelessness, though I suppose these things happen.”
“Do they.”
Something in Adrian’s tone made Henry’s eyes narrow fractionally. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing.” Adrian turned away, jaw clenched. “Merely noting the unfortunate timing.”
Henry’s voice sharpened. “People could have died, Adrian. I hardly think—”
“I’m tired. Excuse me.”
That night, Adrian stood at his window overlooking the lake—now peaceful under moonlight, giving no hint of the passion that had nearly consumed him there mere hours ago.
The taste of Cecilia’s passion still lingered on his tongue, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the way she’d shattered in his arms… and Adrian Ravenscar, Duke of Devonshire, stood trapped between desire and duty, trust and suspicion, certain of only one thing:
Everything was about to change.