Page 60 of The Duchess in His Bed
“You’ve closed the doors of your gaming hell to Winslow—Lord Camberley. And you canceled his debt to you.”
“I didn’t cancel it. We wagered it. He won.”
Her expression was one of skepticism. “I should think a man skilled at sleight of hand when it comes to peas would be equally accomplished when it comes to manipulating cards.”
“What a cynic you are.” Although he had indeed known precisely where to find the two of hearts because he’d placed it on the bottom before he’d ever begun shuffling and had known how to keep it there. He’d wanted to ease at least one burden off her shoulders, although he couldn’t guarantee Camberley wouldn’t gamble elsewhere. “I’m actually surprised he confessed all that to you.”
“I was waiting in his residence when he arrived home. I’ve forbidden him to gamble in the future or spend any more time not tending to his duties.”
He certainly admired her tenacity in seeing after her sisters’ welfare. “How did he take that?”
“Not well, but he understands the import of it. He doesn’t have a very high opinion of you.”
“Few men who owe me money do.”
“And women who owe you? Should they fear you?”
“If you don’t know the answer to that question, then you shouldn’t make any bargains with me.” Crouching, he opened the box, grabbed a book, and held it out to her.
Horror swept over her lovely features as she knelt beside him, took the book, set it aside, and closed her fingers lightly around his wrist. “You really did chaff your skin.”
The rough-hewn abrasion circled just above his hand. He regretted not tugging the sleeves of his shirt or jacket down before offering her the book. He’d not liked one bit how vulnerable he’d felt lying on his bed, unable to free himself. Although now he couldn’t help but contemplate that she was equally bound, her bonds simply invisible. “Did you think I’d lied?”
“No, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“It’ll heal.”
“I fear it will leave behind scars, constant reminders of what I did to you.” Lifting his arm to her mouth, she placed the gentlest of kisses against the still red and raw flesh. His gut tightened into an annoying knot. He didn’t want to soften toward her, needed to remain distant so he could view what their relationship might become as a business arrangement, one of convenience that would elevate the fruit of his loins into the upper echelons of Society. But from the moment he’d spied her, he’d strayed onto paths he’d never before traveled, taken actions he’d known would lead to no good outcome. Yet, here he was once again, dangling himself in front of her, giving her leave to do with him as she would. “Damn you. How is it that you have managed to bewitch me?”
Cradling her cheek with one hand, plowing his fingers into her hair, he brought her in and took her mouth like the greedy bastard he was, relishing the taste and warmth of her, how easily she surrendered and shifted until it was more than their lips touching, until her body was nestled within the curve of his. His plan to make a rational, informed decision regarding whether he would once again have her was mocking him. He had so little resistance where she was concerned. It was sheer and utter madness, the ease with which she controlled him.
With great care, as though she were spun glass and easily shattered, never taking his mouth from hers, he lowered her to the Aubusson carpet that dominated this particular sitting area. With a lifting of her skirts, an unfastening of his trousers, he could claim her here, now. Recklessly. With no sheath about to offer her protection, before he fully decided if he would take the risk of bringing a child into the world. Her sighs and moans inflamed his desires. The manner in which she writhed beneath him as though she were desperate to have him closer fueled his body’s needs, leaving them wanting, wanting of her and the hot, velvety slickness that had encased him the night before, that had driven him nearly mad. He’d wanted to stay buried in her, to pour his seed into her, as much as he’d wanted to leave and spare her the possibility of giving birth to his progeny. But it was what she wanted, and he imagined her swelling with his babe.
Bracketing her face between his hands, he deepened the kiss, his tongue imitating the primal motions his cock longed to make, thrusting, parrying. Why did she have to taste so damn good? Why did it have to feel as though her hands belonged on his back, stroking, caressing, urging him ever closer? Why—
A loud clearing of a throat had him jerking his head up to glare at Beast, who stood just inside the doorway, holding a box. Selena gave a little mewl of distress, clutched his shirt, and buried her face against his chest. While being caught in such an intimate position was embarrassing for a woman, he couldn’t help but wonder if being caught with him specifically added to her shame.
“Fancy’s bringing the sisters up to see the reading salon.” Beast’s voice was quiet, even, gave no hint that he was surprised by what he’d witnessed. But then his brother had always had a knack for seeing things as they were, had never been one to judge.
“I thought she wanted them filling the shelves downstairs.” It’s what they’d been doing when he’d left them.
Beast shrugged, walked in, and set down the box. “She decided they needed a break from their labors.”
After tapping Selena’s hand gently to get her to release her hold, Aiden shoved himself to his feet, reached down, and assisted her up. She began frantically patting her hair. He took her hands, stilled her actions. “You look fine.” Except for the red blossoming over her cheeks, indicating her mortification. “Beast is skilled at holding secrets and forgetting things he sees.”
She gave Beast a furtive glance. “Thank you for the warning.”
Not that they’d needed it. Aiden could hear the feminine voices coming up the stairs, although he was no doubt being quite optimistic to believe he’d have taken note of them when he’d been so lost in Selena.
The girls crossed the threshold with Fancy in the lead. “The reading salon,” she announced with affection and a spreading of her arms, before scowling at Aiden. “You’ve not made much progress.”
“The duchess and I were discussing how best to arrange the books.”
She narrowed her eyes as though suspecting another matter entirely might have been the reason for his delay in getting to work. Then she carried on with her purpose, once more spreading her arms to encompass the entirety of the sitting areas. “In here, people may read to their hearts’ content.”
“After they’ve purchased the books,” he pointed out.
“No. It’ll be like a lending library except I won’t charge a subscription fee.”
