Page 57 of A Duchess Bound
His Grace caressed her wrists, gingerly smoothing over the places where the ropes had bitten. Dorothy had only just noticed that.
“Yes?” he prompted gently.
“Shall I do that for you?” she asked, her voice shaking. “I am certain that—that you must long for some pleasure.”
His Grace kissed the place where Dorothy’s neck met her shoulder. “What a lovely woman you are. That is so very thoughtful of you.”
She shivered and leaned her head back, inhaling his cologne and something strange and sultry. It took Dorothy a long time to realize that it was the scent of her own sex and release that she smelled.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but that is not necessary. I prefer to wait, my dearest.”
“To wait?”
Dorothy felt a shudder of horror at the thought of waiting.Shehad waited until His Grace saw fit to give her pleasure, and the experience had not been pleasant in the least!
The duke laughed. “You sound appalled. The wait will only heighten the pleasure. Come, my lady. I have food and drink for us.”
He offered his hand and helped her rise. With a sly grin, he tucked the rope back into the pocket of his coat. Dorothy’s breath gave a little, faltering hitch.
“Did you enjoy the experience?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Very much.”
Upon further reflection, maybe therewassomething to be said about waiting for pleasure. The release had been magnificent, and her body still shook with the memory of it.
Dorothy seated herself on the ground beside him, adjusting her bodice and smoothing her skirts. His Grace opened a crystal-cut decanter and poured her a small amount of a golden liquid. “I do not imagine you have ever tried scotch before.”
“I have not.”
“Take caution with the first swallow,” he said. “You will find that it has some bite.”
Dorothy swallowed tentatively and choked a little. She wrinkled her nose and swallowed. The taste was pleasant. Unusual. But His Grace had been correct about the bite.
“I have developed quite a fondness for it,” he said, pouring his own glass. “I like to…share things that I am fond of.”
Dorothy plucked a grape from one of the plates and ate it, enjoying the sweetness after the harshness of the scotch. His Grace’s eyes remained intently fixed upon her face. Even though it was dark, she sensed the hunger lurking there.
“Is that why you have asked me to submit to you?” Dorothy asked. “You wish to see me submit, so you may share the joys of the bedroom with me.”
“Practically, I suppose you are right.” There was something odd in his voice, but Dorothy could not quite identify what it was. “But I also enjoy your company. That was my motivation for asking.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough. I know that you are kind and that you care about your family. I know that you are brilliant and fierce.”
Dorothy considered asking if he said those same things to all the ladies with whom he’d had dalliances, but she decided against it. His words made her chest tighten with fondness. She liked to think that she was brilliant and fierce, and she did not want to destroy the illusion that he truly thought she was something amazing.
CHAPTER 20
Lord Coatney was only an acquaintance, and Gerard strongly suspected that his invitation had been offered more out of respect for his position than out of any real feelings of friendship for him. In all fairness, Gerard was not especially fond of Lord Coatney either.
His attendance at the ball was only because he knew that Lord Coatney was a close friend of the Leedway family, which meant that Lady Dorothy would likely be in attendance.
Pontoun was not present, and Gerard found himself guiltily relieved at the man’s absence. Ever since resolving to find his one and only love-match, the man had become something dangerously close to insufferable. All their conversations revolved around love and women, and Gerard found himself frequently resisting the urge to scream from frustration.
“Your Grace,” Lord Coatney greeted.
The man cut a large, imposing figure. He had sharp, black eyes, and something about his visage suggested a hawk who was readying to spear a mouse with his talons. Gerard vaguely recalled having an instinctive fear of him during their first meeting, but then, Gerard had only been a lad of four-and-ten years.
