Page 94 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
He turned through an archway, and his fingers tightened about hers. With his other hand, he gestured down the corridor along which they were now walking quite rapidly. “The ducal apartments are at the end.”
She’d expected to feel nervous, tentative at least. Instead, excitement and eagerness and searing impatience bubbled up inside her.
They reached the double doors at the corridor’s end. Drago released her hand to set them swinging wide, then waved her through, and without the slightest hesitation, she walked in.
She paused in a foyer of sorts with three doors—one ahead, one to the left, and another to the right. The one ahead stood open, and she continued through. She heard aclickbehind her as Drago closed the main doors before following.
She’d walked into an airy, comfortable apartment that stretched across the width of the wing. Large mullioned windows overlooked an expanse of formal gardens delimited by the tall trees with which the estate seemed liberally endowed. To her left was a sitting area, with two well-padded armchairs upholstered in gold velvet arranged before a fireplace, on either side of which two large windows admitted the last of the evening’s golden light. The room’s walls were paneled to waist height in the same dark wood of the heavy, ornate mantelpiece; she thought it was black walnut. The floors, too, were of the same wood, polished to an obsidian sheen, but the darkness was alleviated by richly patterned, jewel-toned carpets that even her undereducated eye could see were little short of masterpieces.
After shutting the door, Drago had paused just inside, watching her drink in the room. “The rugs are from the Near East, courtesy of one of my roving great-uncles.”
“Hmm.” Above the paneling, the walls were plastered and painted a soft ivory and hosted several paintings of landscapes she suspected were scenes from the estate—wooded hills rolling away, a forest glade, the still waters of a large lake.
Drawing in a breath tense with rising anticipation, she turned to survey the massive four-poster bed that dominated the right half of the room. Like the mantelpiece, the bed was flanked by two windows and carved from the same black walnut, its posts, headboard, and footboard all richly patterned with acorns, roses, oak leaves, and vines. The heavy brocade curtains, presently looped back, were in the black, gold, and silver of the Helmsford livery. The silk counterpane was gold, edged with black and silver, and the mounded pillows looked to be covered in silver-hued silk.
There was furniture placed throughout the room—a writing desk and chair set before the main window, a sideboard, two chests of drawers, and a credenza, plus small tables on either side of the bed—but she barely noticed them; her gaze had fixed on the sumptuous luxury of the huge, tempting bed.
She moistened her lips and glanced at Drago. “Who sleeps here?”
His dark gaze met hers. “I have been. I was hoping we would.”
Oh, good.She forced herself to glance around. “Your parents didn’t have separate rooms?” Not that she cared.
“I was informed that they never saw the need.”
When she looked at him, she saw he was smiling. “My parents never did, either.”
“Ah. Well, in lieu of an extended tour”—he pointed to a door in the inner wall to the right of the bed—“through there you will find your dressing room and a bathing chamber beyond.” He swiveled to point to a matching door in the inner wall to the left of the fireplace. “And my dressing room and bathing chamber are through there.”
She nodded. “In that case…” She drew in a deeper breath. He’d drawn closer as they’d spoken. She swung toward him and flung herself at him with absolute confidence that he would catch her.
On a chuff of surprised laughter, he did, his hands fastening tight about her waist, capturing and anchoring her against him, and as she raised her head, his swooped, and he covered her lips with his.
They’d previously shared precisely four kisses. None had been like this one.
The heat, the erupting passion, the surge of greedy, compulsive desire simply hadn’t been there before.
Then again, before, they hadn’t been married, and now they were.
Now, they were not just free to indulge, but this—this rabid hunger, feeding it, assuaging it—was expected, even encouraged.
She raised both hands and speared her fingers into his black locks, holding his face as she pressed what was nothing less than an urgent entreaty upon him. Since he’d first kissed her on the cottage stairs, she’d longed to do just this, but hadn’t dared. She hadn’t known what might ensue and had been wary about stepping into a situation that might have veered out of control.
Now, with their wedding behind them, she was free to expand her horizons in this sphere. To cast off all restraint and learn what would come when she lay in this man’s arms.
With boundless eagerness and enthusiasm, she threw herself into the task.
His palms eased from her waist and slid lower. He cupped his hands about the globes of her derriere and gathered her even closer, explicitly molding her hips to his even as he angled his head, with his tongue found hers, and with blatant mastery, took control of the incendiary kiss.
And taught her how physically engaging a kiss could be. With a deliberation—a determination and intent—that captured her utterly, he opened her eyes to unexpected pleasures. She lost touch with the world as he languidly stroked and evocatively plundered, teasing her senses and artfully drawing her wits into a game of thrust and caress that quickly devolved into a duel of tongues that second by second grew even more heated.
The rampant ridge of his erection pressed against the curve of her belly. Registering the fact and its implications—its promise—her greedy heart leapt, and she murmured incoherent encouragement into the kiss.
Then she caught her mental breath, seized the moment figuratively with both hands, and using her lips, her mouth, her tongue, her hands, her fingers, and the pressure of her slim frame sued for more.
More. Everything. Every last element of passionate lovemaking that he could teach her.
Given his reputation, she felt certain she was in good hands and flung her considerable will into encouraging him to show her every last aspect he could.
