Page 82 of The Duke of Desire
Chapter Eighteen
Eyes closed, she spun through the darkness, weightless and content. A fulfillment she’d never known lifted her up, and peace reigned.
Ivy stroked her hand along West’s back as he shifted his weight from her. He left her body but kissed her temple, his lips gliding over her flesh. He cupped the side of her face and brought her mouth to his.
He pulled back, his hand still caressing her cheek. “I’ll get you something to clean up.”
Her eyes flashed open as reality assaulted her. She’d wanted to forget, and she had. She’d somehow forgotten that she was a lady’s companion and that she ought not be tumbling into bed with the Duke of Desire.
She sat up. “Yes, please.”
He left for a moment and came back to her with a cloth. “There’s a pitcher, but the water’s cold.”
“I don’t need that.” She tidied herself and left the cloth on the bed, then went to dressing herself as quickly as possible.
“Do you have to rush off?” he asked.
“Yes. Lady Dunn rests in the afternoon, but if I’m not back before she wakes…” She shook her head. The viscountess wouldn’t mind, particularly when she knew Ivy had gone to the workhouse today. Only Ivy hadn’t been there the entire time.
After her stockings were in place, Ivy pulled on her chemise followed by the corset. She had trouble with the laces, her fingers fumbling.
“Here, let me help you.” He came off the bed in all his nude, spectacular glory. Ivy averted her gaze, but it didn’t matter. In her mind, she could still see the carved muscles of his chest and the thick flesh of his cock between his legs. She was certain the image would always be there, reminding her of this singular day.
As soon as her laces were tight, she stepped away from him and swept the petticoat over her head. Next came the dress, and he helped her tug it down over her underclothes.
She jerked away, glancing at him as he frowned. “I can manage.”
“Ivy—”
She heard the query in his tone and sought to cut him off before he could ask her things she didn’t want to answer. “I need to go.”
“Yes, but we should talk. For a minute at least.”
She fastened her dress and didn’t look at him. “About what?”
“About what happened.” His finger came under her chin and gently lifted. “I’m not going to let you run off.”
Outrage curled in her belly, and she shook his touch away. “You’re not going toletme.” She blinked, thinking him mad. Or at least stupid. “You don’t have a say in what I do. This was a mistake. I never should have come.”
He pulled on his pantaloons. “It wasn’t a mistake. It was wonderful.”
She shoved her feet into her shoes and began hunting for her hairpins. It took a minute, but she gathered what she could and did her best to coax her hair onto her head. She probably looked ridiculous, but she’d cover it with her bonnet. Where the devil was her bonnet?
“Ivy?” He’d donned his shirt as well as his stockings and boots.
She snapped to attention, nearly forgetting he was there. Which was absurd. As if she could forget him. Forget what they’d just done.
She swung her gaze to his. “Will you say it was wonderful when I end up with child?” Anguish bunched through her, and she bent slightly, like a reed giving way to the wind. She wouldn’t collapse again. Shewould not.
“Yes. I will say that forever.” He came toward her, his brow furrowed. “I forgot myself earlier. If there is a child—”
She cut him off again, uninterested in his plans. “If there is a child, it will be my problem. But never fear. I neglected to tell you that part. Bothwick got me with child. So you see, I can deal with such inconveniences.” She nearly choked on the word after her earlier encounter with Peter.
His eyes widened. “Ivy. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Indeed, since she’d told him everything else. “Because it’s private.” She’d never talked about it with another person after leaving home. Not until today. Not even Lady Breckenridge knew that Ivy had lost a baby. That had happened well before they’d met and at a different workhouse altogether.
“What happened to the child?” His question was low and dark, his gaze apprehensive.
