Page 7 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
How was this happening? How had the evening come to this? It did not matter. All that mattered was the desperate ache between her thighs and the feel of Vincent’s skin against her own.
“More,” she breathed, digging her hands into his hair. “Please.”
Vincent squeezed her upper thigh, drawing a cry from her lips. Georgina arched her back, desperate for his hands to reach the place that craved him the most. Suddenly, Vincent pulled away and scrambled off the chaise.
Georgina’s eyes flew open. “What—”
“Quickly. Hide.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to standing. And Georgina heard it too—the clicking of the key in the lock. Frantic, she scrambled behind the chaise and balled herself up on the floor, making herself as tiny and silent as possible. Vincent strode over to the door, just as it clicked open.
“Ah, there you are, Your Grace,” said an elderly male voice.
Your Grace? Vincent is aduke?I just didthatwith a duke?
In spite of the situation, Georgina could not help a tiny smile.
“We have been looking for you everywhere,” said the man at the door.
“Yes, thank you, Graves,” said Vincent. “I came up here for a little quiet and some fool locked me in.”
“You, what, sir?” the footman asked. “I am afraid my hearing is not what it used to be.”
“Yes, Graves, I am well aware. Perhaps we might speak downstairs?”
Vincent tried to keep his expression level as he spoke with his footman.
Damn the fellow. Of all the moments to find me…
At least the sight of Graves’ wrinkled face had helped quell Vincent’s arousal. He blinked, forcing himself to focus.
“Your Grace, Miss Lydia Wyatt and her grandmother were hoping to speak with you,” said his footman.
“Yes, I am sure they were.” The mention of Lydia Wyatt sent Vincent tumbling back to earth. He raked a hand through his dark hair, vainly attempting to return it to some sort of order. Thoughts of the masked lady’s fingers sliding through it flickered through his mind. With difficulty, he forced the thoughts away.
He drew in a breath.Best get this over with.
The weight that had been pressing down on him since his mother had told him of her plans to wed him to Miss Wyatt suddenly intensified. How wrong it felt to be meeting this lady when his thoughts were so crowded with another.
“Very well, Graves,” he said. “Please tell Miss Wyatt and her grandmother that I shall be down shortly.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I said—” Vincent shook his head. “Never mind. Take me to Miss Wyatt now.”
“I am afraid that is impossible, Your Grace. When I was unable to find you earlier, Miss Wyatt and her party decided to take their leave.”
Vincent tried not to let the relief show on his face.A reprieve.
But then:My mother is going to slaughter me.He glanced back over his shoulder to the sitting room where he had left the mysterious masked lady. Every fiber in his body urged him to return. Lock themselves back in that room and continue where they had left off.
“Thank you, Graves,” he said, in his loudest, clearest voice. “That will be all.”
Graves bobbed his head and turned to shuffle back down the passage toward the staircase. The moment his footman had disappeared, Vincent turned on his heel and, fighting the urge to run, strode back toward the sitting room.
He found the door closed, and he turned the handle slowly. “Are you there, My Lady?” He was dimly aware of how hard his heart was thudding. How was it possible that this nameless woman, whose face he had never even seen, might stir such longing within him?
He was answered by silence. The room was empty, the stillness broken only by the irregular breath of the lantern flame.
Well. At least I shall always have the memory of her.
