Page 21 of Drawn to the Duke
Of what she had missed forever.
Before her thoughts could crystalize, the duke’s mouth was on hers as he pulled her closer. His hands roamed over her sensitive skin, their warmth sparking tendrils of desire when they cupped her breasts, kneading them gently before contouring her curves; then, when reaching the heated moistureat the juncture of her thigh, finding the true extent of her longing.
It was all the encouragement he needed, it seemed, for with a soft chuckle he whisked Selina up into his arms and dropped her onto his bed.
As she heard the soft sound of his banyan slithering to the floor, Selina was enfolded by the large, soft, comfortable feather mattress, already warmed by the duke’s body from earlier.
And now that lean, muscled body was fitting very nicely into her curves as he tucked her against him with what sounded like a sigh of satisfaction.
“And now, dear Anna, reassure me that your bravado has not been misplaced and you’re not already regretting your wild impulses?” He drew back to look at her while his hands gently caressed her skin.
Selina smiled. She’d already thrown caution to the wind. She’d already lied and taken on the persona of her sister-in-law to?—?
She stopped as guilt tugged at her before the justification came to her rescue.
Selina was doing this so that Edward could help keep a roof over not just his and Selina’s head, but so that Anna could be housed in comfort rather than being sent away to the lunatic asylum, as Edward had threatened on more than one occasion.
“Why, you, of course, Your Grace.” She sent an appreciative look at his chest.
“I am not in the habit of taking other men’s wives into my bed, madam, and your husband may not take too kindly to being cuckolded.”
“Pah!” Selina made the derisive noise as her expression kindled. “A husband who has shown no husbandly attention in years has no right to take exception to his wife seeking husbandly attention where she can.”
My, that was bold, but suddenly Selina was fired up by the excitement of being someone other than herself.
Poor Anna was hardly going to be affected, and Selina could enjoy one small exploratory foray for both of them.
“You do realize the world believes I am mad, Your Grace? Are you not afraid you will be tainted by me?”
He considered this as he leaned on one elbow, his face above hers, before he gently touched her nose with his forefinger. “My definition of mad is perhaps a little more lenient than most. I once had a cousin called Gwyneth. You remind me of her. She chafed at being constrained and was called mad. Orhaveyou tried to burn the house down?”
“No.” Selina considered whether either she or Anna had committed violence. “Beyond cutting up a letter in anger that my husband received cautioning him to restrain me from offering my unwanted opinion on certain matters, I have wielded no sharp instruments nor lit any fires. I have a temper, on occasion, and an opinion. These, apparently, can constitute madness.”
“But right now, as you lie in my bed, I can see no signs of madness.” Leaning over her with a smile, he kissed her brow. “What is it you want from me, Anna?” His mouth curved. “I am your host. Your husband’s host. We could lie here, skin against skin, and you could drive me wild, but we could do no more than talk. I am an honorable man. Your husband is my guest. In fact, I depend upon your husband for something I want very much. Something I need very much. I would not alienate him.”
“You ask what I want from you? What brought me here?” Selina snuggled against him. She should have recoiled and accepted the reprieve he offered. But when her fingers were drawn, as if by an invisible chord, to explore the warmth and hardness of him, the discovery that he was tense and clearly ready for action was thrilling. She trailed her hand down his flank to cup his manhood and when it sprang to attention, shewhispered, “I want excitement, though perhaps I should not be here in deference to your future wife.”
“Ah, yes, my future wife.” His voice was hoarse.
Selina raised her head a little. She saw his eyes shift evasively and wondered at the conversation she’d overheard as she prompted, “Thatisthe reason you wish this likeness, is it not?”
But his thoughts appeared to be elsewhere as he murmured, “It is not a love match. Not a match based on desire.” He shivered and his breath caught as he caressed her breast, murmuring, “Not, I think, like this, which is very much rooted in desire.”
CHAPTER 13
Chauncy didn’t question Lady Boothe’s arrival in his bed. What had she invited him to call her?
Anna. That’s right.
It wasn’t unusual for beautiful women to throw themselves at him.
And this one was particularly intriguing.
Her honesty was refreshing. And she was undeniably lovely. The line of her nose was charming, as was the curl of her chestnut hair and the sweep of her neck to that luscious bosom he was now enjoying. Pert but still soft and full, it was just the kind of bosom—like the rest of her—that drove him wild.
She’d obviously been obedient enough—for long enough—to have been granted a reprieve.
And she’d taken a great risk to be here. He would never forget that his beloved cousin Gwyneth, with whom he’d grown up and whose capacity for devilish plans had awed him as a child, had met her premature death by climbing out of a window.
