Page 42 of Taming a Beastly Duke
“Charm, indeed,” he said, his eyes nearing a seductive glow. He held up the book so that the firelight shone directly on his selected page. He cleared his throat, glancing at her once more as he began to read aloud.
“There is a fire
And motion of the soul which will not dwell
In its own narrow being, but aspire
Beyond the fitting medium of desire;
And, burning in the very breath it gave,
Doth pine for what it hath not, even as air
Consumes the very essence which it breathes.”
Adelaide’s breath caught as the meaning of the poem settled in her mind. Their previous conversations about poetry had ended in the mention of tortured souls. Now, however, the duke had read something that referencedpassion and desire. Her pulse quickened to an impossible rate as she fumbled for words once more.
“That is a passage from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, yes?” she asked, her breathlessness making her question sound like a soft gasp. His voice had dropped lower, and each word from his lips caused a tiny thrill through her abdomen that made her feel feverish.
The Duke’s eyes brightened, and he took a small step closer to her.
“That is correct, Miss Barrett,” he said, his eyes drifting over her improperly covered figure. “I wonder if your fondness for Byron is not more pronounced than you profess.”
The words held no accusation. Rather, he seemed bemused, as if sensing her increasing arousal and teasing her fondly. She tried to compose herself, turning so that only her shoulder faced him and forced herself to focus on the floor.
“As I said, he has his charms,” she said, forcing her voice to sound nonchalant and calm, despite her body feeling everything to the contrary.
The duke chuckled again, and she heard the turning of more pages. The soft thump on the floor told her that he had taken another step toward her, and she could not repress a shiver.
“Let us see just how adept you are with his works,” he murmured in the same low voice that heated her blood as though her every vein had been set ablaze.
“My soul is maddened by the thought of thee,
And from thy presence I am but withdrawn
To fevered dreams of what can never be.
For what is it but a vain longing,
An appetite that on the heart doth prey,
Yet feeds not the immortal part within?”
Adelaide gasped aloud as she felt the duke’s breath on the back of her neck as he read the last line. She had been so lost in the enticing timbre of his voice that she had not realized he was moving closer as continued reading to her. His warm breath stirred the loose strands of her hair on the back of her neck, causing her body to all but seize with a tremor of pleasure.
When she turned to face him, the hunger in his dark eyes was powerful enough to make her knees weak. His large hand cupped her cheek, dwarfing her face as he held it with exceptional gentleness. His touch belied his beast-like reputation, and Adelaide was once more certain that a man with a touch so soft could not be as horrible as rumors claimed. She held her breath as he brought his face down to hers, her heart beating wildly in her chest. In the dim firelight, his eyes yearned for much more than a kiss from her.
The first brush of his lips against hers held the same tenderness as his hand. However, it did not take long before the kiss blazed into something wild and passionate. She moaned softly against his lips, both glad and terrified thatshe had read his intentions correctly in his gaze. She pressed her body against him, willing him to sense her urgent eagerness for him, just as she could feel his for her against her body.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, thinking too late of the last time she did that. She froze, concerned that he would push her away and flee, just like he had once before. This time, however, he uttered a low, pleasured growl, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against his solid warmth. She softly cried out, stifling her voice with his lips. They were both trembling, but Adelaide knew it was from no ailment. Adelaide wondered how much longer her shaking legs would support her yearning body. The Duke pulled back, just enough that he could look into her eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked, searching her face for something. Rejection? Fear? Indecisiveness? She was not sure. But if he needed reassurance that this was what she wanted, she would give it to him.
“Yes,” she whispered, hardly able to catch her breath. “Please, kiss me again.”
***
When Miss Barrett pleaded with him to kiss her again, his physical craving for her became almost painful. His kisses became desperate as his longing beat wildly against his composure. Each time she arched against him, and he felt the softness of her skin, barely covered in her thin nightclothes, and the delicate curves beneath them, the passion he had meticulously stowed away in her presence swelled, poised to burst forth with a fierce abruptness. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders under his questing hands, and she murmured with pleasure as his warm hands touched the bare skin beneath.
