Page 66 of His Arranged Duchess
She put these thoughts out of her head. Lucien stopped abruptly at a narrow doorway, pushing it open. He gestured for her to step in first.
“It’s a private reading room,” he explained, ducking his head to get through the low doorway. “They were once storage rooms, I believe. The Abbey has rooms just like them, and many people convert them into little rooms for reading and writing when a library is too full and noisy.
Frances glanced around the space. The room was small and square, with no windows, but a candelabra burned in an alcove set in the wall. A few modest bookshelves lined the walls, a small armchair set beneath. A small desk was placed against the opposite wall, ideal for writing private letters. The candelabra filled the room with dancing, yellow light, a stark contrast to the bright wax candles lighting up the ballroom.
Already, Frances could breathe a little better.
“Perhaps you ought to sit down,” Lucien murmured, gesturing to the armchair. She shook her head, pacing across the small space.
“I don’t want to sit.”
“Shall I call for refreshments?”
“No, thank you.”
Lucien narrowed his eyes. He reached behind him, and Frances noticed for the first time that there was a large brass key sticking out of the keyhole. He turned it with aclick, then folded his arms and leaned back against the door.
“You are too anxious, Frances.”
“Well, I can hardly help it,” she shot back.
“I would disagree. One’s feelings are not set in stone, after all. You should work not to think of this man. In fact, I forbid you from thinking of Lord Easton at all.”
Frances threw him a glare. “Well, then, you are not to think of pink elephants.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Now, when I said that, tell me truthfully—what did you think about? Was it not a pink elephant?”
Lucien snorted. “You, my girl, are too clever for your own good.”
“I am notyour girl,Your Grace.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You are still mine. Youare, and if you continue thinking of Lord Easton, you will be punished.”
She stopped her pacing at that, turning to face him.
“Punished?”
He took a step towards her. “I think you know exactly what I mean, my dear.”
Frances’s eyes widened. She found that she could not look away as he approached. Her heart hammered, and her chest tightened again, although it was in an entirely different way from what she had experienced before.
“I… I can’t,” she whispered. “What else should I think of?”
He stood in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his broad, warm palms.
“Me,” Lucien said simply.
Then he kissed her. Not on the lips, but gently on the forehead, as he had before. Frances closed her eyes and tilted up her face, expecting a kiss on her lips to come next.
To her surprise, he next kissed each of her temples, and then the tip of her nose, of all places! Following that, he kissed her cheeks, one by one, then pressed his lips to the side of her neck.
It felt divine, warm and gentle andnot quite enough. Frances wanted more. She wanted his lips on hers. She wanted to feel the quick, thrilling dart of his tongue flicking beyond her lips. She wanted him to scrape his teeth along the side of her neck—there’d been a scene inThe Highwaymanlike that—and to touch her everywhere, everywhere at once.
And yet Lucien continued with his careful, careful ministrations, soft lips pressing at her throat now. She wondered if he couldfeel her blood thrumming beneath the skin. Was it warmer than the rest of her throat? Could he sense the vibration?
I feel as though I’m going mad,she thought dizzily, winding her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. Her breasts, confined by the tight bodice, pressed against his chest, and the sensation was something strange and alluring all at once.
