Page 61 of In Need of a Duke
He reached for as she stepped out of the tub. He saw a shiver chase down her body as she stood by the candlelight and dried off, never breaking their stare.
“If you meant to seduce me, then I believe you have achieved your goal.”
She scoffed, reaching up to scrunch her hair into the towel, then tossing it onto the chair in the corner. “Thank you,” she said, backing away toward the door.
“For what?”
“For not leaving tonight. And I apologize for how I…” She stopped, a blush burning bright on her cheeks. “Well, I am no singer, no actress. I am certain you never found one of them crying in a tub.”
“I never sought them out.”
He couldn’t tell if she believed him yet, but judging by the small shrug of her shoulders, she didn’t.
“I want you and only you. And I will make sure my name is on your lips when I bring about your pleasure. Stay in my bed tonight, Lottie. Let me show you.”
She waited by the door for a moment, then shook her head. “Nottonight, Ian. I’m not ready to share a bed with you, but I will come to London.”
“Then we’ll leave in the morning.”
Charlotte slipped out, leaving Ian alone. He stepped out of the tub and dried off, before taking himself in hand and imagining what could have happened in that tub if he hadn’t left her all those years ago.
CHAPTER 16
Charlotte didn’t carefor London. Never had.
It was far too noisy and dirty, and trying to find peace in the middle of such chaos only led to disappointment.
At least with her plants, she didn’t have to pretend to be anyone she wasn’t. Namely, the Duchess of Dandridge.
She didn’t care to disappoint anyone, which she always felt like she did. After years of being a duchess, she had learned everyone held expectations of her, which she rarely lived up to.
For a while, she had almost convinced herself that was why Ian had abandoned her. He was embarrassed about calling her his bride. Maybe she had said or done something to upset him. It had taken years for her to stop her mind from spinning at night trying to decipher the reasoning.
Even now, as he sat at the breakfast table in their Mayfair home, reading the newsprint as she sipped her tea and read a book, she feared he would leave again. Though Charlotte had agreed to a trip to London with Ian, it had been nearly a week since that night in the bathtub with him.
A week and not a kiss or touch since, just simmering tension, heated glances, and friendly chatter.
Friendly.
She frowned and flipped another page in her book. She didn’t wish to be friendly with Ian. The man demanded a more assertive approach, and since he returned, he had a way of making her catapult between having butterflies in her stomach or needing to smack him.
Charlotte reclined in her chair and tugged at her dress bodice, uncomfortable.
“Is something wrong?” Ian asked, never glancing up from his paper.
“Fine.”
But the truth was, she was far from it. A certain madness had swept over her. Lust was a hunger that never ebbed away. It was a constant longing and ache. Her body wished for his touch, her mind only thought of kissing him again… and this dress was the most irritating, scratchy garment she had ever owned.
“I need to visit the modiste,” she grumbled, closing her book and standing. She had a dozen dresses upstairs to wear, but if they were to be in London for any length of time, a new dress couldn’t hurt.
He folded down the corner of the paper and narrowed his dark eyes on her. “I will come with you.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, scoffing, “You want to visit the modiste with me?”
Then it happened.
Ian had always possessed a certain magic that Charlotte could never withstand. His eyes would study her slowly, and even from across the room, she swore his hands had been exploring her body.
