Page 28 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
He nodded slowly, his heart aching, with love for her. “I will wait forever, Hetty.”
She was silent for a moment, gazing out over the hills in the distance. “I cannot believe it,” she whispered. “Why would you sacrifice your life for me on the slim hope that I might one day be free to marry you?”
“Why do you think?” he said in an anguished whisper. “Can you not see how much you mean to me? I have been trying to show you all this time. I have been trying to win your trust, trying to show you that it is only you, Hetty. It has only ever been you.”
She looked amazed, her mouth dropping open slightly, as she turned to him. He swore underneath his breath, his heart yearning for her, so much that he could barely contain it.
He had exposed himself. It was too late, now, to take the words back. Would she jump to her feet and run away? Had he scared her off, once and for all, with his declaration?
But she didn’t move an inch. She looked like she was rooted to the spot. Their eyes met and held, a magnetic cord pulling between them.
And then, he was reaching for her, eagerly taking her in his arms, his mouth descending upon her own, for the very first time.
Her lips were as soft as he had dreamt they would be and so very sweet. He moaned, underneath his breath, pulling her closer. He waited for her to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, he felt her lips open, beneath his own, blossoming to life as she kissed him back.
The kiss deepened. He couldn’t help it. His hands caressed her, exploring her curves. The rounded hips, the small waist, the fullness of her breasts. He could not get enough of her. He wanted to gather her up, take her beneath this tree, claim her for his own, once and for all. He was so giddy with desire he could barely breathe.
He trailed feverish kisses down the curve of her long neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin, as he caressed her breasts, feeling the nipples beneath the fabric of her gown grow hard for him. He tilted her back in his arms, pulling aside the bodice of her gown. Hungrily, his eyes registered the creamy fullness of her breasts, the rosy aureoles, before his lips descended upon one, drawing the nipple deep into his mouth as he suckled her. He heard her low moan, thick with desire, as she arched her back to accommodate him.
She was trembling, now, her skin mottled with pink. He reached down, seeking her centre, briefly touching her through the gown.She shivered convulsively as he kept caressing her gently, then with firmer, more confident, strokes. He suckled harder, raising his eyes to watch her. Her head had tilted back, and her eyes were closed in ecstasy. He felt the answering throb deep in his loins.
But suddenly, Della leapt upon them, barking ferociously. Hetty leapt back as if scalded, laughing hysterically as the dog licked her face. He started laughing, too. The moment was well and truly broken.
“Down, Della!” she commanded, barely able to draw breath. “Down, girl!”
He leapt to his feet, his heart expanding with love for her. He reached out a hand, pulling her up. Tenderly, he adjusted the bodice of her gown, tucking away those magnificent breasts. She stood as impassive as a doll while he tidied her. She had stopped laughing, now, and gazed up at him, her blue eyes impossibly large.
Gently, he kissed her forehead, his eyes never leaving hers for a second.
“Do you believe me, now?” he whispered. “Do you believe me that it has only ever been for you?”
She sighed deeply. She did not answer, biting her lip.
He held her hand as they walked back towards the house. They didn’t speak any more than they had when they had started on the walk through the field to the apple tree. But whereas that first walk had been fraught with tension because of Frank Blackmore’s letter, this time it was different. Something had changed between them, forever.
He still didn’t know if he had finally earnt her trust. He didn’t know if she felt the same way about him as he did about her. But he had felt the leap of her response to him, the way that her flesh had answered his. She desired him that much was obvious. She had felt that same pull of fierce, deep attraction, that he felt for her.
And it was enough, for the moment.
He felt like he was in a dream as they entered the house. Luncheon was about to be served. They separated, to wash. Already, he felt the loss of her, wishing her back by his side.
Sitting across the dining table from her, he could barely eat. Vividly, he replayed their passionate encounter over and over in his mind. The feel of her. The taste of her. The agony, of wanting her, almost more than life itself.
It was time to take her to Warwick Manor. It was time to finally introduce her to Benjamin. He still had no idea what her reaction to his illegitimate son would be. It was risky. He might lose her forever when he had just tentatively claimed her for his own.
But he could not lie, by omission, to her any longer. He wanted her for his wife, come hell or high water, and she had to know the truth of what his life was. Hopefully, their connection was strong enough now that she would accept the situation.
They both reached for the pepper shaker, sitting in the middle of the table, at the same time, their hands connecting. She smiled shyly, pulling back, letting him take it. She flushed, looking down into her soup bowl.
His heart contracted. He had never loved a woman the way that he loved her. And hewouldmake her his wife. He vowed it to himself, trembling with desire, once again.
Hetty was his. She had always been his. It had just taken an awfully long time for him to get to her. He thought about her desire to join a nunnery. The sheer waste of it. Hetty was made for love. She belonged in his arms, forever.
He fervently prayed that it would be possible. That they were not destined to never be together because another man had managed to put a ring on her finger before him.
Chapter 13
Hetty gazed around the vast foyer of Warwick Manor, trying hard not to show how impressed she was. The ceiling was so high she had to crane her neck to see it properly. It was intricately carved. The floor beneath her feet was white marble.
