Page 41 of Taming a Beastly Duke
“Are you all, right?” she asked, worried that he was feeling unwell again.
The duke shook his head as if coming out of a trance, giving her a small smile.
“Yes,” he said, his eyes focusing on her once more, the intensity of his gaze increasing to an impossible fervor. “I am truly splendid.”
Adelaide blushed, unable to look away from his lively, hungry eyes.
“I am glad,” she said with great sincerity. “I must say that your dancing is markedly improved.”
The Duke gave her a smile that until that day, she had never seen on his face. It was as bright as his eyes, relaxed and full of promise that Adelaide longed to hear.
“Perhaps, you can tell me more about my improved talents later this evening,” he said.
Adelaide did not ask the duke what he meant, nor was it necessary. His eyes spoke the words his lips did not, and the tingling fire beneath her lower body caused her to sigh softly as they danced. The duke seemed to notice, for as he pressed himself closer to her, she felt the evidence of his intentions. She had never longed for the end of a ball so desperately.
***
When the ball ended, Adelaide retired to her chambers, doubting herself and the desires she felt for the Duke. She knew that having such thoughts was rude and unladylike, and she would be shamed for simply voicing them. To act on them was a completely different matter, one which would permanently secure her already marred reputation as a ruined woman.
Besides, she was still uncertain whether she should trust him, especially as he was now the one warning her to stay away from him. And yet as she walked frantically back and forth in her room, she recalled every heated glance,every subtle touch from their dance and every shiver, tingle and wave of longing he stirred within her. Perhaps he was a beast. Perhaps everyone was right to warn her about him. However, perhaps she did not mind.
When she had paced the floor of her chambers for two hours and still felt no closer to sleep, she grew frustrated with both her sleeplessness and her yearning. She wrapped herself in her favorite green shawl and slipped quietly into the library. She tried to convince herself that she was not going there in the hopes of seeing the duke. She even refused to glance around the room, which was lit only by a low-burning fire that cast intimate shadows through the room. She knew he could be waiting in one of those shadows, but she pushed away the thought. Even if he was, she would not entertain the thoughts she had earlier that evening, no matter how decadent and tempting they were.
The gentle moonlight streamed in through the tall windows, conveniently illuminating the poetry section of the library, where she so often found the most solace. She had always enjoyed poetry volumes, but she could not deny that she found a new source of joy when she discussed poetry with the Duke. She traced each book with gentle fingertips until she found the Lord Byron volume. She was set to pull it from the shelf when a familiar, deep voice caused her to start.
“Another sleepless night, Miss Barrett?” The Duke asked, the smooth timbre of his voice making her knees instantly weak.
Adelaide turned to see him standing by the fire, wondering how she had missed him when she entered. His evening jacket lay discarded on a chair and his cravat was loosened, which was something Adelaide had come to expect. However, his shirt was partially unbuttoned, and for the first time, she saw a clear view of the top of his chest. Her longing for him pounded relentlessly in her abdomen, leaving her briefly speechless.
As if sensing her stupor, the duke chuckled softly, sending a wave of shivers up her spine.
“I could not sleep, either,” he said. “It seems my thoughts are far less eager to rest than I am.”
Adelaide nodded, swallowing. She could hardly concentrate as she stared at the powerful lines of his frame in the flickering light of the fireplace. His body was now free of the tremors that had plagued him previously, and she could admire every bit of his tall, muscular figure. She might as well have been standing in the fireplace, her yearning so hot she began to sweat.
When she was able to move, she stepped toward the dim light of the fire. The duke’s eyes widened and his breath caught, and Adelaide realized he could see through the filmy fabric of her nightclothes. She should have been embarrassed and wrapped herself more tightly to protect her modesty. Instead, however, she put her arms at her side, leaving the duke’s view of her unobstructed.
His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. Adelaide waited for him to send her away and her heart fluttered madly. He did not banish her from the library, however. Instead, he gave her a slow, hungry smile and shifted so that she had a better view of his firm figure in the dim lighting.
“Which volume enticed you this evening?” he asked, glancing at her hands with a teasing smirk.
Adelaide was sure she would swoon. Her attraction to the duke had always been intense and powerful. Now that he stood strong and confident and unaffected by illness, it was overwhelming. She struggled to form a single coherent thought with him in such a state of undress. She wondered if he felt the same way, and she tried desperately to keep her voice calm and casual.
“I considered Byron,” she said, not surprised when her voice sounded as heavy with longing as she felt.
Chapter Nineteen
Adelaide stared up at the Duke, forgetting the book she had selected, even as she held it in her hands. It was impossible to think of anything except his large frame as he approached her with a hungry smile on his face. It was similar to that which Lord Edwin had given her during their dance. But there was no coldness or calculation in the duke’s expression or eyes. Rather, there was a heat that, since the drastic improvement of his condition, burned brighter than ever before.
She shivered as the duke gently plucked the book from her hands. He looked at the cover, smirking again as he read the cover.
“Lord Byron,” he murmured, glancing at her with his burning eyes. “I thought you preferred Wordsworth.”
Adelaide cursed her inability to speak, forcing her eyes from the duke’s face to the spine of the book he now held.
“Lord Byron has his charms, as well,” she said, cursing also the tremble in her voice beneath the Duke’s intent gaze.
The duke chuckled in a soft, low tone that sent another thrill up her spine. She felt warm enough to melt into a puddle in the floor, her lower abdomen pulsing with the fire that raged within. He slowly opened the book, turning pages until he found one which seemingly caught his interest.
