Page 29 of Taken By the Icy Duke

She nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. The same answering spark lit her gaze; a promise that once they closed the carriage door on the night, there would be far more to address than the trivial expectations of the ton.

Diana’s cheeks remained flushed when the carriage drew to a halt before Rivenhall House. She half expected Gilbert to escorther inside with formal propriety, yet the moment the footman opened the carriage door she felt the electric current that had persisted during the ride spark anew.

She could scarcely recall the brief trip home; every bump and sway had only heightened her awareness of him—his hand lingering on her waist, and the occasional brush of his knee against hers.

The townhouse door swung open, and a liveried servant stepped aside to allow them entrance. Diana offered the man a quick nod, her heart pounding as she caught Gilbert’s intense gaze.

After they had entered, the door was closed behind them with a soft thud. Before she could form a polite word of thanks for the evening, Gilbert claimed her hand, drawing her toward him with undeniable urgency.

“Gilbert,” she whispered with delighted surprise. “We are scarcely inside?—”

His response was a heated murmur close to her ear. “Forgive me, Diana, but I cannot wait another moment.” There was a low, insistent quality in his tone that made her stomach flutter. He guided her swiftly along the marbled foyer until they found a small alcove where the hallway angled toward the drawing room.

Diana’s breath caught as he pressed her gently against the paneled wall. The swirl of her emerald skirts rustled around her ankles, and she had only an instant to glance left and right, half-dreading some passing footman, before Gilbert dipped his head to capture her mouth in a fervent kiss.

A jolt of excitement coursed through her, and she instinctively lifted her arms, resting them on his shoulders. The taste of him—warm, faintly scented of wine and sandalwood—banished all thoughts of demure civility.

She managed a soft sound of protest, her cheeks aflame. “Gilbert,” she hissed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “The staff will see. We have only just arrived?—”

His hand rose to cradle her cheek, the other drifting low to her waist. “Let them think what they will,” he murmured, his breath stirring the wisps of hair at her temple. “They already know you are my wife. It is hardly a secret that I would wish to be close to you.”

The gentle possessiveness in his voice sent a new wave of smoldering desire through her. She pressed her lips together, trying to summon a veneer of composure. “But…my gown, and your coat… you are hardly in a state to…”

He silenced her with another kiss, tempered only by a fraction more restraint. Yet even that slight measure of decorum did not quell the pulsing need she felt from him. It filled the space between them, threatening to melt her caution entirely.

A distant shuffle of feet in the corridor made her freeze and she placed a palm lightly on his chest, urging him to pause.

“You see?” she whispered, fighting to steady her voice. “We are not alone here.”

Gilbert exhaled, though he did not fully relinquish his hold. “We will retire,” he said quietly, “to someplace less public, if you insist.”

Relief and anticipation warred within her. She cast a furtive glance toward the corridor, ready to bolt the moment another servant appeared.

With a slight nod, she allowed Gilbert to guide her away, his hand firm at her lower back as they made their way through the house. Each step reverberated in Diana’s chest, a reminder of the hunger that all but crackled in the air between them.

At some point between the hush of the hallway and the snug drawing room door that beckoned ahead, Diana realized that their relationship was no longer solely about duty or display. Gilbert’s attention was an unguarded, and raw thing. It both unnerved and thrilled her to experience the full force of it.

When at last they slipped into the quiet, lamplit room, she closed the door behind them with trembling fingers. Turning, she found Gilbert awaiting her—his gaze molten, every line of his body tense with desire. For all of her fluster over the staff’s potential disapproval, Diana could no longer deny the answering flame that his nearness ignited.

Bracing herself, Diana stepped forward, allowing the moment to unfold, away from prying eyes and watchful servants. In thatinstant, the emerald gown she wore, the staff in the corridor, and the endless speculation of the ton all receded into a distant murmur, leaving only Gilbert’s intent stare and the needy beat of her own heart.

Chapter Fourteen

Diana’s hands trembled and her breath caught in her throat. She could feel Gilbert standing behind her, and could sense the spring-like tension in his body. Every beat of her heart felt louder than the hushed atmosphere surrounding them.

She turned to see Gilbert standing a mere pace away, his expression charged with a raw, primal need she had never witnessed in him before. The glow from the flames dancing in the hearth pronounced the angles of his face and illuminated the intent in his eyes.

Diana’s body responded in kind, quivering with unrestrained excitement, yearning to touch him, to explore the contours of his face and his muscular frame. She could feel the energy bristling between them.

Without a word he crushed her to him, pulling her hips against his, his fingertips sinking into the flesh of her skin as she melded into him. She could feel his manhood pressing against her belly,so urgent was his need. The stubble of his chin brushed against her hair, loosening strands as she lifted her face to his.

A thousand questions hovered at the edge of her mind—uncertainties about him, about them—but in that moment she could only focus on his touch. Even her recollection of their earlier embrace in the corridor paled in comparison with the fiery intimacy she now felt with him in the quiet, lamplit space.

“Diana,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he fought for willpower.

She wanted to speak, to say something clever or confess the wild desires that stirred within her, but words failed her in the moment. His mouth sought hers, crashing against her lips and stealing her breath away as he kissed her. His beckoning tongue searched for hers, tasting and exploring her waiting mouth.

His fingers felt like fire against her skin as they trailed along her back, sending shivers of anticipation from her neck to her buttocks. His warmth and raw, male magnetism made her ache for more. Tilting her head back, she searched his face and saw a hunger that mirrored her own. A carnal need throbbed deep within her groin, begging for release.

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