Page 37 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

Another servant stepped forward with a new fork, placing it beside Ciara’s plate with a respectful nod. Despite the smooth handling of the situation, Ciara felt a surge of embarrassment for her clumsiness.

“Yes, those pesky forks do tend to have a habit of running away, don’t they?” Lord Pembroke seemed to have noticed a part of the commotion, now directly pointing everyone’s attention to it.

Ciara blushed fervently, smiling but it was a weak effort. She felt more out of place than ever before. She reminded herself that she had to endure it.

“Well, not everyone has your impeccable manners, Lord Pembroke,” Jonathan suddenly pointed out, “because we all know that you are impeccable at everything you do.” He said it in such a dramatic manner that it made everyone chuckle at his words.

Ciara appreciated Jonathan’s words although she still felt as awkward as before if not even more. She straightened in her seat, her hands trembling slightly as she took the new fork. Fortunately, she realized that the conversation at the dinner party had slowly taken a different turn, leaving her and her marriage out of it.

“Speaking of impeccable, have you all heard that Lady Olivia Donnahue was caught having an affair with her gardener of all people?” a lady down at the end of the table asked loudly, and all eyes and ears were upon her. “Apparently, she had written love letters to the man, and he wrote back, but Lord Donnahue found them…”

“The letters?” someone else asked.

“No, his wife and the gardener together!” The words were followed by a collective gasp and then, the continuation of the sordid affair that everyone had to know about as if it were their own business.

Ciara was flabbergasted. She didn’t know the woman, nor did she know the circumstances in which she had acted, but she felt sorry for Lady Donnahue, having no right to privacy at a moment such as that one.

However, what shocked her even more was the fact that Jonathan did not remove his hand from her thigh. Instead, he began to stroke her gently, making it appear as if he were not doing anything at all. She turned to him, her cheeks a fervent red, her eyes wide at what he was doing.

Seeing her in such a state, he leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear. “Should I stop?”

Without a second thought, she shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted him to do. He smirked at her, his eyes deep and unfathomable, as heat unfurled in the secret place betweenher thighs, the place that always seemed to be on fire when she thought of him and his smile.

“I knew you had a wild side in you, my siren,” he murmured right into her ear, making her body explode in gooseflesh.

She couldn’t say what she was thinking aloud. But her eyes spoke more than words ever could.This is highly improper,they were telling him, and he understood more than well, the scoundrel.

“Shhh,” he whispered again without anyone noticing. “Stay still. They won’t know.”

His hand then proceeded to ride up slowly between her legs, her entire body trembling. She fought the sensation, but it was impossible. Her mind was a blank. She couldn’t hear anyone speaking. All she could do was feel his hand between her thighs. His strokes were light through her gown, but she could feel them as if he were touching her bare skin. Everything about her was mad with desire at this most inopportune moment.

Why is he doing this?She thought to herself.

She wanted to close her eyes, to get lost in the pleasure of the moment, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to stay focused on what was happening around her, but she couldn’t banish the thought of Jonathan’s hand between her thighs, driving her mad. She felt the rising of that familiar heat, her thighs clenching to keep his hand in place. She swallowed heavily, feeling her throat becoming parched, but she dared not pick up a wine glass for fear of dropping it.

Just then, Lord Weatherly rose. “Gentlemen, we are to retire to the drawing room for after-dinner drinks. As for you, dear ladies, you are to enjoy your… drinks in the parlor,” he said, words which were followed by an amused chuckle.

Ciara didn’t laugh. Jonathan pulled his hand away from her, and the act left her gasping silently. Also, the thought of being left alone with vultures such as Lady Worthington made her petrified. But she knew that she had to survive that evening, with or without Jonathan by her side.

Just as the ladies were settling in the parlor, huddled into a small, intimate circle, Lady Worthington took the lead words. “Now, Your Grace, I think all of us here would like to know, given your husband’s… infamous reputation, what is he like in bed?”

Ciara turned pale. “In… bed?”

“Why, of course, my dear,” Lady Worthington chuckled, and the rest of them joined in. “You have been married for over a week now. Don’t tell me you have not consummated the marriage?”

Ciara could see the look of shock on the ladies who surrounded her. “Of course… not. I mean, we have consummated it, of course.”

“And?” another lady asked eagerly, leaning closer, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Does he do the tongue thing?” a third one asked in a whisper. “A friend of mine told me about it, and I nearly died upon hearing it!” she giggled, and a few other ladies joined her.

“Well, one has to use one’s tongue under such circumstances, no?” Ciara said awkwardly, and it was evident that they didn’t like her answer.

“And does he really have a looking glass over his bed?” another lady inquired timidly.

“A looking glass!” a voice exclaimed, impressed.

Once again, all eyes were on Ciara. How on earth could she tell them that she had no idea what her husband’s bedchamber looked like?

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