Page 44 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
‘You will have to kick me out, Rose,’ he muttered. ‘I swear I do not have the will to leave of my own volition.’
Volition. He did say such funny things. But she knew what he meant. ‘Then stay, Jake. I am not one of your noble misses with a reputation to guard.’ Though she had guarded herself for years. But then no man had offered her the least temptation.
She could see from the expression on his face that he was torn between doing the honourable thing and fulfilling her request. And while this was not what she had ever intended—indeed, was against the rules she had set for herself—it would hurt if he turned her down. She would not give him the chance. Not now that she had made the decision.
This might well be her only chance to be with him. His sister could arrive at any moment and likely her presence in the house would preclude her and Jake from finding time to be alone.
She worked down the buttons of his coat and then his shirt, longing to reveal that wonderful expanse of chest. It did not take long for her to lay his torso bare, for he helped her pull the shirt over his head between plundering kisses that never seemed to end.
He was a beautifully constructed man. All lean muscle and lithe sinew. His arms were as defined as any sculpture she’d seen in a book. From grooming horses, no doubt. And his chest and stomach above his waistband made her mouth water with the desire to run her tongue along each ridge and shadowed dip. To see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
She eyed the buttons holding his falls at his waistband, but he spun her around, holding one arm about her waist while plying her nape with whisper-soft kisses.
‘Let me take your hair down.’ He barely waited for her nod before pins went flying about her feet and the curls she had spent an hour or more to fix in place were spilling around her shoulders in mere seconds.
Fair was fair.
* * *
God, Jake couldn’t believe how much he desired Rose, when he hadn’t wanted a woman for weeks or maybe months. Unable to resist, he bent and buried his nose in her golden tresses, breathing in the scent of lily of the valley. Sweet and innocent like her, but also incredibly alluring.
He swept her hair aside and gently sank his teeth into the tender skin where her shoulder joined her neck, loving the taste of her on his tongue and caught up by a primal urge to leave his mark. Though he would never do it in truth, the idea sent what little blood remained in his brain rushing south.
‘Have you known many saucy footmen, Rose?’
She gave a low sensual chuckle ‘Enough, Jakey-boy.’ Her low husky voice sent tingles down his spine.
Relief. He’d had the suspicion—but ordinary people did not need to worry about such things as lineage and family blood. Saints preserve him, what he wouldn’t give for just a few hours to be Rose’s ordinary footman, without responsibility or duty to anyone but himself. Free to choose.
Not six months ago he’d been ordinary as far as thetonwere concerned. The second son of a duke who led an idle life mostly unnoticed on the marriage mart. Safely hidden in his brother’s shadow, he’d even kept the wealth derived from Vitium et Virtus and other investments a carefully guarded secret. Neither his father nor his brother had known how large he’d grown his personal fortune.
He would have been able to make Rose an honourable offer, had he been so disposed. Would he have been disposed? Unlikely. He’d never been one with marriage on his mind. He liked his independence too much. A pang twisted in his chest. He’d gone through life pleasing himself. Utterly selfish and thoughtless. Ultimately others had paid the price for his rottenness and would continue to do so.
He pitied any woman who became his wife. He simply wasn’t cut out for marriage and yet he’d do as required by duty. He’d promised.
He didn’t deserve Rose, but nor could he refuse her what she wanted. He wouldn’t refuse her anything if it would make her smile, for if he was good for anything, it was bringing a woman pleasure. More pleasure than any footman ever had or ever would, of that he was certain.
She sighed at the touch of his lips and bent her head forward in a submissive posture that had nothing meek about it. This was a demand.
He could not help the smile the small gesture brought to his lips, any more than he could help kissing the lovely tender flesh at her nape one more time.
Slowly, he undid the buttons of her gown and the tapes of her stays, exposing the filmy fabric of her chemise, through which he could see the delicate nobs of her spine and the sharp-angled shoulder blades. Rose had not always eaten well.
The thought caused a stir of anger in his gut.
Gently he turned her to face him. She tipped her face up, a teasing smile on her lips and a softness in her expression that made him ache with need.
But this was not about him and his desires, it was about Rose. He took her lush lips, carefully, tenderly, as he pushed the gown and stays down over her arms and the lovely swell of her bottom, to slide to the floor with a little sigh. Echoed by Rose against his cheek.
Her arms went about his neck and he plundered the dark heat of her mouth, tasting her, feeling her melt against him, moving her hips against his erection in an erotic dance that practically had him coming apart. He broke the kiss on a groan. ‘Let us at least make use of the bed.’ He kept his voice light, but it was a heartfelt plea none the less.
She patted a cheek. A gesture of affection he couldn’t recall anyone ever doing before. It was comforting. Familiar. Kind. Friendly. When were his lovers ever friendly or kind? Or anyone else for that matter.
‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said and whisked herself behind the screen. ‘You can finish undressing if you like.’
He did like, very much, and he guessed much of the reason for her disappearance was modesty. The thought of Rose being shy was almost too erotic for his sanity.
It didn’t take him long to strip down and hop into bed, discarding all the covers but the sheet. Several moments passed. ‘Rose, what—?’
