Page 44 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
“Yes,” she whispered.
He drove himself into her and grasped her hips. Bridget groaned as he moved within her. Anthony moved in and out, quickening his pace. Bridget gasped and panted beneath him,and Anthony came inside her. He withdrew quickly and let his hand fall onto her thigh, now wet with his seed.
“Oh, marvelous,” Bridget murmured. “I wanted you so badly.”
And Anthony—
He woke to the light of dawn flitting past the curtains and into the room. Anthony curled his fingers into his bed linens and spread his thighs. He was too aware of the damp place between his legs and covering the linens.
Vestiges of the dream lingered in his mind. Anthony sighed and threw an arm over his eyes, wondering if he could justify remaining in bed for the entire day.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” said James.
Anthony turned his head and glanced at his valet, preparing his clothes for the day. “Good morning,” he said, his throat thick.
He and Bridget were only pretending to court. Anthony should not have kissed her. He most certainly should not have thought about having an amorous encounter with her.
“Did you sleep well?” James asked.
“Well enough.”
Anthony looked morosely at the bed linens and sat upright. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.
“I kissed her,” he said.
James paused and frowned. “Kissed who?”
Anthony sighed and closed his eyes. “Lady Bridget.”
“Ah.”
“I do not know why I kissed her,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “It was unwise.”
“Did she react poorly?” James asked tentatively.
“No.”
“That is good,” James said. “I suppose.”
“It is better than the alternative,” Anthony replied. “Surely. But still, I should not have kissed her like I did. I do not love her. I cannot love her.”
“Why not?” James asked softly.
“You know why.”
“I do,” James said. “I suppose.”
“I must apologize to her,” Anthony said. “Not today, though. I need some time to think about how to do it without making the situation worse.”
James did not respond. Anthony sighed and shoved aside the bed linens. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared self-consciously at the wet spot on his shirt.
Anthony was a gentleman and the Duke of Hamilton. He needed to control himself. For his sake and Lady Bridget’s. And for Anastasia, whose memory burned inside him.
Chapter 21
When Bridget thought of the kiss, she seemed to lose all coherent thought. She could not focus on the pianoforte. Every time she tried to play a piece, she found herself unable to focus. She missed notes and forgot what she was playing. After two hours, Bridget had yet to finish a single composition. Anthony’s presence was simply too compelling to ignore. Kissing him made her feel as if she were truly alive for the first time.
She was not supposed to love him. They were only pretending to court. Bridget had enjoyed playing the role of Anthony’s paramour. Everything had been going well until the kiss, and Bridget could not make sense of that at all.
