Page 21 of My Dark Duke

Sebastian pulled himself up the bed and took Mary in his arms. She looked at him in bleary confusion, her eyes hazy with sated desire.

“What was that?” she questioned, her voice thick and sleepy.

“A small demonstration of the pleasure I can offer you,” Sebastian replied, dropping a kiss upon the crown of her head.

“Oh,” was the only reply she could muster.

Sebastian pulled her against his chest, savouring the warmth of her body. As a rule, he did not linger long in the beds of his mistresses, but he was reluctant to leave. He pulled the heavy blanket over them, cocooning them in warmth.

“There’s so much more I can show you, Mary,” he whispered, as he tenderly stroked her hair. “If you will just let me.”

He awaited her response but, to his surprise, the only sound he heard was of her soft, steady breathing.

She had fallen asleep.

Rather than feel insulted, Sebastian felt strangely touched by the trust shown. Mary shifted in her sleep, so her back was to him, and instead of slipping away as he usually would, he curled his body against hers and threw a protective arm across her body.

I’ll just rest my eyes, he told himself, as his eyelids grew heavy, just for a moment…

The last thing he recalled, before he drifted into slumber, was feeling completely at peace.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHEN LILLIAN AWOKEthe next morning, she found herself momentarily disorientated by her strange surroundings. The luscious drapes above her head, the softness of the feather mattress, and the languid feeling in her muscles were all completely foreign to her, until she recalled just where she was.

She was in a grand house and had just spent her first night as mistress to the Duke of Thorncastle.

Heat flooded her face as she recalled her evening of pleasure with the duke. She had behaved in a most wanton manner; she had allowed him to touch her intimately, she had exposed her breasts and most private parts to him, she had allowed desire to consume her so completely that she had been lost to the world.

And she had enjoyed every second of it.

As she recalled the climax she had experienced, Lillian’s face was not the only part of her consumed by heat. She squirmed as she relived the all-consuming need that had filled her as she had approached the peak of her pleasure, and the earth-shattering moment when her body had been consumed by waves of ecstasy.

As the daughter of a vicar, she knew she should feel some remorse, yet she did not.

The duke, or Sebastian as he wished to be referred, had not made her feel wanton or base, he had made her feel that her desire was natural.

The devil works hard, but the Duke of Thorncastle works harder, Lillian thought to herself, as she slipped from her bed. Of course a man of ill-repute would think such wild need was natural; she should not forget herself and believe it too.

Her bare feet made contact with a plush carpet, and as she padded across to the washstand, she noticed there was a small fire glowing in the grate.

Someone had been in to light it while she was sleeping - such luxury. Even at home, she had not experienced such comforts.

A washbasin of water stood atop the dresser. Lillian picked up a soft cloth and washed herself, glad to find the water was still warm. She then dressed, into the practical, plain daydress she had worn for years.

Once she was fully clothed, she deliberated on what she should do next. Her stomach rumbled, prodding her to move, but she hesitated.

Thorncastle had assured her this was now her home, but she did not yet feel it.

Mercifully, a knock came upon the door, and when Lillian bid the visitor enter, Polly appeared.

“Oh.” She looked mildly surprised to find Lillian already dressed. “I was just checking to see if you needed any help.”

“I managed alone,” Lillian smiled, “I am not a cosseted miss, Polly; there will be no need to dance attendance upon me.”

“Not yet,” Polly agreed, with a grin. “But when your new wardrobe arrives, I’ll wager that you’ll need my help. The modistes of Bond Street are free with their buttons and laces - it’s a lot for a lady to attempt alone.”

“I cannot visit a Bond Street dressmaker,” Lillian objected, somewhat confused. “I do not have the funds for that. If a new dress is needed, I can sew it myself.”

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