Page 47 of The Design of Dukes
“I’ll make an excuse that I’m ill or that I’m concerned for my mother so we may return to London with all haste.” She turned away from him and bent at the waist, giving him another lovely view of her backside, glaringly apparent through the folds of petticoats she was encased in. Her hands flew over the papers spread out across the grass to gather them up.
Andromeda assumed, incorrectly, that he wanted her to leave The Barrow. The very thought created a hollow sensation in the middle of his stomach.
“No. I would never suggest such a thing.” His voice sounded chilly even to his own ears.
“You don’t need to, Your Grace. I take your meaning.”
Andromeda hadn’t the slightest idea how badly David wanted her. He looked over her shoulder as her hands began to stack the papers neatly together. Not drawings of the stream and woods as he’d thought. What most young ladies with a mediocre talent for sketching would draw. But gowns. Dresses. One with a motif of butterflies across the skirt. There was even a sketch of a riding habit.
I have an acquaintance who owns a dress shop.
Andromeda, already fascinating, became more so.
“I don’t wish you to leave the house party,” he said to the trim line of her back.
“My presence clearly annoys you, Your Grace.”
Indeed it did, in so many ways, David had stopped counting. “A correct assessment.”
“Then Theo and I will leave in the morning.”
“No,” he said roughly. “You will not.”
Andromeda’s hands stilled on her drawings, stiffening with what he could only assume was anger at his commanding tone.
David stared at the line of buttons running down her spine. Could he bite them off with his teeth? The dress would fall away from her shoulders, exposing all her glorious skin.
She turned back to face him, angrily tying a piece of leather around the portfolio to keep it closed. “What else could you possibly want, Your Grace? An apology for the insult about your coat? How petty; it was well over a year ago.”
His head fell forward, nose gliding up the slope of her neck, inhaling the soft lavender scent lingering on her skin.
A soft gasp of surprise left her, but she didn’t move away. The portfolio slipped from her hands.
“I want this,” he whispered. David nuzzled the bit of skin just beneath her ear before catching her lips with his.
15
Oh.
Granby’s lips on hers were soft. Persuasive. The barest brush of desire against her mouth. There was no urgency in his kiss, only temptation, a quiet coaxing for her to surrender.
Romy arched against him as coherent thought fled. She’d dreamt of his kiss. Of him.
When his tongue trailed across her bottom lip, she opened without hesitation, her own curiosity and the impatience she sensed in Granby guiding her. The small globes of her breasts grew heavy and heated as they strained against her bodice, trying to make contact with the planes of his chest. When the very tips of her nipples chafed against his coat, bright jolts of sensation burst down across her stomach to fall between her thighs.
A low sound came from Granby’s chest, the vibration echoing across her skin.
“I do not dislike you, Andromeda,” he murmured. “That is rather the problem.”
He nipped at her bottom lip before his tongue sank back into her mouth, tasting her. With a groan, his fingers sunk into her hair, sliding over her scalp before he fell back into the grass, bringing her with him.
Granby kissed her as though nothing else existed but their mouths and the stream bubbling away beside them. When he slowly sucked on her tongue, Romy pushed herself more fully against him. She didn’t care how improper this all was. All she wanted was him, solid and warm beneath her fingertips. She sunk her fingers into the ebony waves of his hair, letting the thick strands trickle across her hands, wiping everything else from her mind but Granby.
When at last he pulled his mouth from hers, Romy cried in disappointment, finding that somehow one of her hands had curled into his shirt, holding him to her. He was nuzzling the side of her neck, his breath wafting over her skin.
“I find you incredibly disagreeable, Your Grace,” she whispered, happy in a way she had never been before.
“I know.” As he looked down at her, his lips curled up at the ends in a genuine smile.
