Page 34 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
“Mm.”
“Don’t.” She tried to lift her leg away, but he stopped her, fingers circling her ankle.
“You are so small here.” There was a gruffness in his voice she was utterly unready for. “So delicate... Do you see?”
“Your Grace—”
“Call meFrederick.”
“It seems awfully forward.”
“More forward than this?” He slowly brushed his fingers from her foot up to her knee, then back down, and although she knew she ought to pull away, all she could do was shiver. Underneath them, the carriage rocked as it carried them back to the Duke’s house, but she could barely think about that. All she knew was his hands on her, the way he eased some of her discomfort—and more than that, the way he made pleasure spark through her.
She hadn’t thought her ruined leg could be anything other than a source of pain, but he was proving her wrong, one touch at a time. His fingers caressed her skin through the soft material of her stockings.
She closed her eyes. Every part of her screamed that she should move away, but it had been a long time—such alongtime—since anything had made her feel this good. Could it be a crime, no matter who she was with?
Slowly, slowly, he slid his hands up to her knee. Then higher. His fingers caressed the ribbons at the top of her stockings. She caught her breath, and he stilled, but when she said nothing—sheshouldhave said something, but she was trapped in the power of his touch—he tugged the flimsy material down her leg.
Then there was no barrier between his hands and her skin. Heat blazed in the wake of his touch, a brand of fire. After this, she would never be the same. He would have left an invisible mark on her—the knowledge of how it felt to be touched.
And with such gentleness.
His hands were painstakingly gentle on her, kneading her muscles until they softened, stroking up and down the tendons, drawing patterns on her skin.
With a rustle, he slid from his bench and sat beside her. She didn’t think through her actions as she turned, allowing him to bring her leg onto his lap. The way he was situated, he had positioned himself between her legs. Her skirts fell back, exposing her calves and the slight flush on his cheekbones. He looked drunk, but he’d consumed no alcohol at the opera.
No, it was something equally potent. This was how desire appeared in a man…
Hunger tightened her stomach. He glanced up as his fingers brushed up her thigh, to the tender skin there. She shuddered, a throbbing ache between her legs now. His eyes might have held the secrets of the universe; they consumed her attention. If she fell into them now, she might never land again. She felt like a ship unmoored, and he was the restless, tossing ocean. With every slide of his fingers, she lost herself a little further under the water.
She was a married woman now, but she understood how women could be ruined through this. The air grew taut and her lungs seized in her chest. Her heart pounded in time with his rapid breaths. If he reached any further up, he would feel just how slick she had become...
“Alice,” he murmured, his voice grating. “Would you allow me—may I touch you?”
The question jolted her back into reality. This was the man who had ruined her life. And here she was, yielding to him as though he was nothing more than merely her husband.
“I… can’t.” Her voice caught on a sob, and he immediately froze. Desire gave way to horror, and she pulled herself free from him, knocking her ankle against the seat and letting out a little squeak of pain.
“Be careful,” he soothed, but she ignored him, reaching down and drawing her stocking back up her leg. It sagged, the material wrinkling, but she didn’t dare draw her skirts up to her thighs so she could re-tie the ribbon. “Let me.”
“No!”
“What—” He cleared his throat, evidently making an effort to not show her the magnitude of his need, though she could sense how great it was. “What are you thinking, Alice? Was it truly so bad?”
“If I allow you these freedoms,” she whispered, tears pressing against her eyelids, “then it will be a betrayal to my family’s memory.”
Silence followed her words, but this time it was the silence of understanding. Acknowledgment.
“I… see,” he said quietly.
She dragged in a shuddering breath. “If I don’t hate you, then whoamI? What sort of person could I possibly be?”
With a sound like a sigh, he removed himself to the opposite side of the carriage once again. She felt the absence of his presence like an ache.
“Very well,” he said, and she had the sense he was drawing a curtain over this incident in order to move to a new topic. “I will be hosting a political dinner next week. We will be discussing several things. You are not obliged to be there, but if you should choose to host alongside me, I would be more than happy to accommodate you.”
She felt her lips quirk in a reluctant smile. “You are not suspicious that I might attempt to ruin your political career?”
