Page 95 of The Texan Duke
Her bodice gaped open, revealing the lace and black ribbon adorning her shift.
She took two steps to him, placing her hands on his chest and running them slowly up to the back of his neck. She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes, wishing he was as improvident as she felt at the moment.
Yet he’d come looking for her, hadn’t he?
She didn’t want him to be thoughtful or rational. Slowly, once again daring herself, she pulled his head gently down.
“It may not be wise,” she said softly, “but it’s what I want.”
And then the world changed.
The reasonable Connor disappeared, replaced by a man who was wild, undisciplined, and thoroughly irresistible. She had the sudden thought as he backed her up to her bed, that this was seduction. When you’re offered a choice and your mind tells you it’s not an intelligent one, but your heart and your body overcome any resistance. She found herself smiling as he kissed her, then laughing as he nearly ripped her clothes from her body.
She didn’t want to stop him, wouldn’t stop him. Perhaps she shouldn’t have reveled in her defilement, but it hardly seemed like that. Her fingers were talented, too, as they made swift work of unfastening his buttons. His jacket was pushed off his shoulders and thrown to the floor. Then his shirt was gone.
His chest. Oh, his chest. She had never thought that a man’s chest could be so utterly beautiful with its play of muscles and thick dusting of hair. She wanted to explore all of him, slowly, with her fingers and her lips, bestow a kiss to the bandage on his shoulder.
But one sensation after another demanded attention. He was kissing her again and the world seemed to spin. He was the only constant and she clung to him gladly.
His lips trailed kisses from her jawline down her throat. How had he removed her corset without her knowing? He grabbed the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head before dropping to one knee.
He must be very practiced at undressing a woman. He unlaced her shoe and removed it. She placed a hand on his shoulder for balance as he removed one stocking, then the other shoe and stocking. All that was left were her pantaloons.
He stood slowly, bare chested, with his trousers and boots still on.
Reaching out, he traced a mark the corset had made between her breasts down to her waist. He stroked the pad of his thumb down as if to erase it.
She was trembling, but it wasn’t because of the cold. The maid assigned to her room always made a point of making up the fire around this time and it was blazing brightly not far away.
No, if she trembled it was because of her own actions. She could have stopped him at any moment, but had chosen to participate in her own downfall.
“I didn’t think you could be more beautiful,” he said.
His hands were everywhere, tender and gentle despite their size.
She didn’t even utter a sound unless it was a moan when he kissed her. She wanted more of his kisses. She wanted his touch everywhere. His calloused fingers dancing down her spine, over her hips, down her legs, everywhere.
His kisses rained down her throat, across her chest. His hands were on her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples.
Beneath his hands she felt beautiful, as beautiful as he’d called her, and as perfect as the first woman.
As he lifted her up to the bed, he asked, “Are you sure, Elsbeth?”
He was the one with some sense. He was the one with more moral character. He had the ability to stop, while she wanted to continue this delightful and decadent behavior.
“Please,” she said. She didn’t know what she was asking for, but it seemed as if he did.
“If I don’t leave now, I’m not sure I can,” he said.
“I don’t want you to leave,” she said.
She knew the risks she took. She knew the repercussions. Yet no payment for tonight seemed too great. Let him love her and she would take the chance. Just once, let her stroke her palms and fingers over his chest, legs, all those parts that so intrigued her.
For this space of time—an hour, perhaps two—she wanted to forget her future. She wanted to pretend that he was part of it. He wouldn’t be leaving Scotland, bound for Texas. He would remain with her.
Give her that pretense, for just a little while.
She’d spent the past week thinking about him. She’d prayed over him and promised God that she would be a much better person if he would just spare Connor. He’d spared Connor, and yet here she was, on the cusp of breaking her vow.
