Page 61 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
When they reached the drawing room, Eleanor took Rose’s accustomed placed behind the teapot. She poured with the graceful elegance of one who did not need to give a second’s thought to what she was doing or how she did it. Unlike herself, who agonised over each part of the ritual, each movement, fearing she’d display clumsiness or ignorance.
She seated herself a little distant from the other two ladies, not wishing to appear intrusive or above her station.
Jake did not join them and while the two ladies chatted, she heartily wished she had pleaded tiredness and gone to her chamber to await him there.
* * *
Jake strode along the deserted corridors. One of the first things he had done when becoming Duke had been to do away with the night-duty footmen. Not because he envisaged needing to sneak about under his own roof in order to visit a lady, but because it made no sense in this day and age.
It was a medieval practice, requiring men to sit on hard chairs at the corner of every corridor in case the sleeping occupants might be in need of some service.
The remaining two took turns below stairs watching for a bell to ring. The rest, he’d either pensioned off or found other positions.
He halted on the landing between the two wings. He had told himself he would not go to her tonight. Not with his sister under his roof. Seeing Eleanor and his niece had reminded him of his own obligations to the dukedom.
It was not fitting for a duke to keep his lover under the same roof as his family. His father would never have done such a thing. Nor would Ralph. He would have set her up in her own little house at the edge of town. In New Townor across the river. Ralph had never put a foot wrong when it came to doing his duty.
Jake gritted his teeth. How could he send Rose away when his grandmother had come to rely on her?
He stopped outside her door, a wry smile twisting his lips. His reluctance was nothing to do with his grandmother. It was his own selfishness. Something his father had accused him of that last day when he had convinced Ralph to go in his place. Selfish and feckless was what his father had called him. It seemed he hadn’t changed.
He turned the handle and walked in.
Seated by the fireplace in her nightgown, Rose looked up from her book and smiled. The gladness in her eyes warmed his heart, making the cares of the day disappear. The cold lump in his chest shrank and became less weighty.
She put her book aside. ‘I wasn’t sure you would come tonight.’
Guilt intensified. ‘Would you like me to go?’ The hurt in her eyes made him want to kick himself. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little out of sorts.’
She rose and opened her arms to him. ‘It is all right. I am a little out of sorts, too.’
‘Because of Eleanor’s arrival?’
‘Your sister is lovely. And her daughter is quite delightful.’
Ignoring her avoidance of his question, he sat in the chair, as he did most nights when he first arrived, and pulled her on to his lap for a lovely satisfying and arousing kiss.
He was relieved to discover not a scrap of hesitation in the way she melded her lips to his. He ran his hand over her back and down over the lovely swell of her hip, feeling the change in her breathing against every inch of his body, sensing her relax into him, bringing her breasts flush with his chest. Her fingers combed through the hair at his nape and his mind seemed to settle, even as his body came awake in a surge of hot blood.
Finally, breathlessly, they broke apart. She rested her head upon his shoulder as she always did. A gesture of trust, but the hand clutching at the lapel of his dressing gown spoke of possession. Of need.
He needed her, too.
The only time he slept well was in her arms. As often as he had tried to tell himself it was ridiculous, it was the truth.
He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her. But he could not bring himself to give her up. Not yet.
So often in the past he had found himself bored to tears by a woman within a very short space of time, a week or two, sometimes even within days. With Rose he never had the slightest urge to be anywhere else. Not even when they sat silently as they did now.
Rose released her grip on his dressing gown and patted his chest. ‘How was your day?’
Such a small thing to ask, but it always soothed him, let him talk of things he never discussed with anyone else. ‘I heard from the steward at Maston. The sheep have foot rot.’
She shuddered. ‘That sounds horrible.’
‘It is. We are likely to lose the whole flock.’
‘Lambs, too?’
