Page 72 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“What things you say,” she said on a melting sigh, sliding one hand up his chest. “I find myself quite overcome.”
When he stroked her cheek, the heat of his touch eddied in her blood. “Are you overcome enough to call me Lucas?”
He’d asked her once before, after that shocking encounter in her bedroom. Shocking and magical. And frustrating. As she now admitted.
That night, she’d attempted to maintain some distance. Today, she had no choice but to surrender with her whole heart, come what may.
She smiled back at him and for once didn’t try to hide her enchantment. “Lucas, I want to be your lover. I want it more than words can say. Let’s hope that inn isn’t too far away.”
Chapter 20
Upstairs at the George and Crown Inn, Evesham knocked softly on the door connecting his room with Juliet’s. It was early afternoon, but the downpour outside made it seem much later. He wore only shirt and breeches.
Mulray had outdone himself, finding this place within half an hour of receiving his orders. It was a quality establishment, but unused to aristocratic patronage, as Evesham soon realized. At the arrival of such an expensive carriage, the landlord and his wife went into a complete spin. Even without the identifying escutcheons on the coach, there could be no doubt that the occupants came from society’s highest echelons.
Juliet had emerged from the carriage, veiled and silent. They’d settled into a private parlor while their rooms were readied, and enjoyed an excellent luncheon. After eating, he escorted her upstairs, then left her to go to his room to wash and shave.
The old inn was mercifully empty. The foul weather must have discouraged the regular patrons from leaving their hearths. He was glad about that. If he and Juliet aroused too much curiosity, she might lose her nerve.
Right now, he reached such a pitch of excitement, he’d shatter like an overheated cannon if she sent him away. This anticipation was delicious and fed his arousal. It made him aware that for far too long, genuine hunger had been lacking from his amours. Everything had become a matter of routine.
He knew the steps of the dance, and so did his partners. There wasn’t an ounce of suspense in any of it, unless he counted the suspense of how long he’d take to move on to a new conquest.
Evesham didn’t feel like that now. This encounter offered such high stakes that his jaded heart skipped and cavorted in his chest like a circus pony. He felt ready to jump out of his skin. No woman had made him feel like this since…
The truth was that he’d never been as het up about a woman. In the coach, Juliet was lucky that he hadn’t moved from kisses straight to seduction. It was a blessing that Mulray had found the inn so fast.
At her soft command to enter, he was shocked to see his hand shake when he lifted the latch and pushed the door open. His heart crashed to a stop when he crossed the threshold and saw her standing waiting for him.
He had fond memories of the pink peignoir from the night he’d invaded her bedroom. With her golden hair flowing loose around her shoulders, she looked pure and lovely.
Mixed with his surging lust was wonder that such an exquisite being should offer herself to a miscreant like him.
Juliet eyed him uncertainly and drew the peignoir closer to her body, revealing that beneath the frail silk, she was naked. The clinging material provided a breathtaking impression of a voluptuous form with full, firm breasts and curved hips.
He’d been right that first day. She did have spectacular legs.
Another jolt of arousal struck. Not for the first time, he told himself that he couldn’t fall on her like a starving lion. He owed it to her – hell, he owed it to himself – to introduce her to pleasure with all the finesse that he could muster.
“Juliet, you’re beautiful,” he said in a husky voice. Awe tightened his throat and threatened to steal his ability to speak.
“Th-thank you,” she said on a whisper.
The polite response was so true to Juliet that he couldn’t help laughing. Not to mention that he was happy in a way he couldn’t recall feeling in years. He strode forward and swept her up in his arms.
This time, her kisses tasted of unconditional surrender. She wrapped her arms around him and joined in the passionate interplay of lips and tongues and teeth. Her untrammeled ardor threatened to blow his head off.
Still kissing her, he shuffled her backward, until she tumbled down onto the carved oak bed that dominated the room. She gasped as she hit the mattress and dragged him down to follow her.
He straddled her thighs and rose to his knees above her. “You drive me mad. You’ve always driven me mad,” he growled, as he hauled his shirt over his head and flung it to the floor. Only his breeches remained.
“The insanity is mutual.” She stroked his bare chest, combing her fingers through the scattered black curls. Everywhere she touched, she set off explosions of heat. “By heaven, you’re a gorgeous man, Lucas.”
He loved to hear her say his name. But not as much as he loved her fascinated discovery of his body. When she traced the line of his pectorals, the brush of her fingers over his nipples made him shiver.
A frown knotted her forehead, as one caressing hand glanced over the red welt of scar tissue high on his left arm. “What’s this?”
He glanced down, although he knew what she was looking at. “A souvenir from my duel with Granville.”
