Page 26 of The Duchess in His Bed
“I don’t read romantic novels.”
She smiled, almost laughed at the tone of his voice, as though he’d been insulted. “I enjoy them immensely. But regardless, our love was not a deep and abiding thing. Perhaps that is the reason other aspects of our relationship lacked passion.”
“You can have passion without love.”
Aiden Trewlove had certainly proved that point a mere few minutes ago. But could one have romantic love without passion? She imagined how much more fulfilling what she’d experienced earlier would be if shared with someone she adored beyond all reason.
“It can’t be easy being a young widow,” he said softly, turning them away from talk of love.
“I don’t imagine it’s easy being an old one either. My life is a series of routines—not in a boring way. But he was part of them. I dress for dinner and go down to the library, and he’s not there, tumbler in hand as he stares into the fire, to turn and smile at me. When I’m reading and run across a particularly well-written passage and look up to share, he’s not sitting in the chair across from me, engrossed in his own novel. I seek him out a dozen times a day, only to recall he’s no longer there. And it always hurts.”
Straightening, she held his gaze. “I don’t know how long it takes before it stops hurting.”
Skimming his fingers along her cheek, threading them into her hair, Aiden wished to hell he could offer her reassurance that the pain would ease, but he knew nothing of permanent loss. Nor had he expected the night to take the turn it had. Of all the reactions he’d anticipated of her, uncontrollable tears had not been one of them.
He was a stranger to offering comfort, suspected he rather failed at it. Perhaps that was the reason he didn’t search for words but merely took her mouth as gently as he was able. It caused a sharp needlelike pain in his chest to see her so unhappy, an ache he didn’t particularly fancy. Rogue that he was, when it came to women, as much as he enjoyed them, he kept a barrier between them and his emotions.
He had little to offer a woman in the way of influence, prestige, and—if he were honest with himself—pride in him as a man to stand at her side. He was a gambling hell owner, a purveyor of vice. He hadn’t yet attained the level of wealth that would cause people to overlook his questionable businesses or his sordid entry into the world, because until recently he’d given a good bit of his earnings to his maggot of a sire. But even if he had an abundance of coins, would it be fair to ask any woman to love him when the world would always view him as the bastard he was? That taint could never be washed away, and he wouldn’t be responsible for bringing children into the world who would have to carry the burden of his shame.
So he wasn’t particularly pleased with how much he’d come to care for this woman in such a short time, especially when she’d made it clear she wanted only one thing of him. He didn’t like knowing that when he eventually succumbed to her wishes and gave it to her fully, he might never see her again.
For he would always remember the feel of her tears gathering on his neck, the warmth of her nestled within his arms, the taste of her on his tongue.
When he pulled back, she smiled at him, causing the ache in his chest to increase.
“You have a way of distracting me from my troubles.” Gratitude was mirrored in her eyes.
“I’m at your service anytime you require distracting.”
A small half laugh. A blush that turned her pale cheeks a rosy hue. It occurred to him to have the walls repainted that shade so he was always reminded of her.
For several long minutes, she merely held his gaze, and he held hers, as though words were no longer of any consequence. She looked away first. “I have to leave now.”
He almost asked her to stay, to spend the remainder of the night in his bed. Not that he would do anything other than hold her. While he was desperate to possess her, he didn’t think she was yet of a mind to be possessed byhim. She wasn’t yet thoroughly seduced.
So he untangled himself from around her and assisted her in climbing out of his lap. After slipping into his shirt, he watched with fascination as she tidied her clothing. Then he laced her back up.
She didn’t bother with her hair. Merely returned the mask to its place so she was once again safe from recognition. Still, he escorted her down the hallway to a private stairwell that led to the foyer, so she wouldn’t have to traverse through the gaming floor. Retrieving her wrap from the girl at the counter there, he draped it around her shoulders and ushered her out into the night, to the carriage that waited for her.
When they reached it, she faced him. “I apologize for making such a spectacle of myself.”
“No need for apologies, sweetheart. But I do hope you won’t allow any discomfort you might be feeling regarding your tears to prevent you from returning.”
Reaching up, she skimmed her fingers along his jaw that was shadowed with bristles now. He could hear the rasp of them over her skin. “Tomorrow.”
He handed her up into the carriage and closed the door. As the vehicle rumbled down the street, he watched it go, wondering how he could possibly seduce her half as much as she’d seduced him.
When Selena reached her bedchamber door, she hesitated, not wanting to deal with Winslow tonight if he was lurking about like a miscreant in the shadows of her room. It was quite possible he might look at her and know what she’d been up to. In spite of her tears, she felt as though she still glowed from Aiden’s ministrations, and she wanted to hold those sensations close, take them with her beneath the sheets.
She considered seeking another bed rather than her own—the residence contained at least thirty other chambers—but in the end decided she was in want of familiar surroundings. When she stepped into her quarters it was to discover that her brother was nowhere to be seen, but her three sisters were all scrunched up in her bed, the twins appearing to be asleep, while Alice was sitting up, pillows at her back, her nose buried in a book. Aiden immediately came to mind, and she wondered if sleep had come easily for him or if it eluded him and forced him to pull one of his many books from the shelves to occupy his mind, so he didn’t think of her.
Silly girl, as though he gave any thought to her at all after she left. If he required distracting, plenty of women in his club would be only too glad to provide a diversion. She didn’t want to acknowledge the spark of jealousy that thought ignited. While she had his attentions, she wanted him giving them to no one else. Perhaps that should have been the prize she sought—but oh, the one she’d claimed could not be measured.
Alice set her book in her lap and looked at Selena with grave concern etched over her features. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried silly.”
“Yes, I can quite see that. Nudge those two awake so you can all scamper back to your rooms.”
Without the nudging, Constance and Florence stirred, squinted at her, and pushed themselves into sitting positions. “You’re back,” they said in unison.
