Page 17 of A Tempting Maid for the Beastly Duke
“What sort of employer would that make me?” he inquired somehow playfully. “No, no. I think it’s best if you stay the night.”
Chapter 9
“I’ve been meaning to do this from the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he heard himself say, as if there were no tomorrow and nothing they did would bring any repercussions. It was a moment that belonged solely to them.
Rose stared deeply into his eyes as they stood in front of each other, her hands gently resting on his shoulders. She wasn’t talking. Not with her lips, at least. But her eyes were telling him all he needed to know.
“Rose…” he whispered her name in a way he had been yearning to do for days.
Her hand lifted to his cheek, gently caressing his scars. His insides exploded. His body longed to hold her in his arms. His manhood throbbed with desire for her. She was unlike anyone he had ever met before. He craved her touch, her sweet fragrance, the soft melody of her voice. Her lips beckoned him. He clasped his hands around her willowy waist, pulling her close, and pressing her heaving bosom to his chest. The very sensation of her body against him made him wild, his body exploding with sensations that made his mind whirl in a haze of passion.
“William…” he heard her angelic voice call out to him, and in that moment, he would have done anything for her. She leaned over closer, her lips mere inches away from his.
Suddenly, his eyes opened, and he woke up in his chamber. The early morning light filtered in trickles of sunlight through the heavy drapes. He lay still for a moment, trying to shake off the remnants of his dream. For that was what it was. Just a dream.
He rubbed his eyes, hoping against all odds that it was reality. But he knew better than to give in to that temptation. It had been a very long time since he had dreamed of a woman in such an intimate, inappropriate manner. The vivid images of Rose, her laughter, her touch, her presence lingered in his mind like a constant torment, reminding him of what he would never have.
Still, he was surprised by the intensity of the dream, especially since he had only just met Rose. However, what that dream awakened in him was unexpected and disconcerting. He felt as if he had spent every one of his twenty-eight years of life building up walls to protect himself from such feelings, from people in general, and now, in the span of only days, those very same walls seemed to be under threat.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm down his racing thoughts. It’s just a dream, he thought to himself. Nothing more.
He reasoned that the dream was likely brought on by the fact that Rose was nearby, under the same roof as him, which was a new and intriguing presence in his otherwise solitary life. It was natural for his mind to focus on her, given how much she had disrupted his usual routine. Shaking his head to clear it, he tried to stand up, but immediately realized that his back stiffened, refusing any motion.
He grunted against the pain shooting through his lower back, causing him to grimace and sink back onto the edge of the bed. His bright idea to move a bookshelf himself the previous day instead of having Mr. Hancock take care of it was paying off about as well as one would expect. He cursed under his breath, feeling the muscles in his back tense and spasm. The stubborn streak that had served him well in the military was now proving to be a double-edged sword. He had always prided himself on his independence and physical strength, but it now seemed those very traits were working against him.
He took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to relax the constricted muscles. He knew from experience that pushing himself would only make things worse. He needed to be patient and careful. He remained in place, breathing in deeply, then exhaling.
He had decided to wait it out until the pain had subsided, allowing him movement. Just as he resigned himself to that conclusion, a soft knock on the door echoed around him. He frowned, wondering why Mr. Hancock would be coming to himat such an early hour. Concern blossomed inside of him. Had something happened?
“Come in,” he called out, his voice strained but composed.
The door slowly creaked open, and to his surprise, it wasn’t Mr. Hancock at all. It was Rose. Immediately upon seeing him in bed, her eyes widening in shock.
“Oh, Your Grace, I’m so sorry for the intrusion,” she stammered, quickly turning around to face the other way. “I didn’t realize you would still be… in your bed.”
He wasn’t naked, of course. On the contrary, he was wearing a long, loose-fitting nightshirt that reached down to his calves, but in a lying position, that wasn’t so. The plain, undyed fabric of the nightshirt was not transparent, although the silhouette of his body was clearly visible underneath, with his muscles protruding. Still, the circumstances of her unexpected visit left him feeling exposed to her eyes.
“I… just wanted to see if you were up so I could say goodbye,” she told him, still with her back turned to him. “Seeing that I left without any word the last time. And also, I wanted to see if your back was feeling better.”
“As you can see, it is not,” he said, clearing his throat as he spoke, oddly pleased at her thoughtfulness. “Which would be the reason why I wouldn’t be able to see you off.”
“Oh,” she said without thinking, turning around to face him once more. “Is there anything I can do? Perhaps adjust your pillow so you are more comfortable?”
He was acutely aware of the inappropriateness of her being in his chamber alone in such a vulnerable state, so early in the morning. He could feel the awkwardness in the air and sought to ease it. “There’s really nothing to be done about it, Rose,” he said, in a calm but firm voice. “It’ll pass. This is not the first time I’ve faced this, as I already explained.”
Rose looked at him with concern, her hands lingering for a moment before she withdrew them. “Are you certain?”
He managed a faint smile, appreciating her kindness even as he felt the strain of maintaining propriety. “I just overdid it yesterday. I shouldn’t have tried to move that bookshelf on my own. Please, don’t worry yourself over me.”
“But you should at least stay warm, Your Grace,” her soft voice answered. “May I cover you up?”
He glanced down, realizing with a new wave of mortification that he had obviously thrown off his covers during the night. The nightshirt provided some modesty, but he felt acutely exposed. The realization that this had happened while he was dreaming about Rose only deepened his embarrassment.
For a moment, he was too stunned to respond. Rose, however, seemed to take his silence as agreement and moved to adjust the covers. Her hands trembled ever so slightly, and he noticed a deep blush coloring her cheeks. The sight of her obvious discomfort only compounded his own.
As she tenderly draped the blanket over him, William struggled to find his voice. “Rose, you really don’t have to—” he began, but his protest was weak and half-hearted.
She managed a small, reassuring smile, though her blush remained. “It’s all right, Your Grace. It is no trouble.”
