Page 16 of The Duchess in His Bed
God help him. Not that many. He wasn’t going to spend the remainder of his life shackled to her—or even an abundant number of years. He merely wanted more than one go with her, the exact number or amount of time to be determined at a later date.
As he neared, he could see no bump on the ring finger of her left hand. She’d not worn the symbol that proclaimed she belonged to another. Good. He was going to take a great deal of pleasure in peeling those gloves off her.
She didn’t smile, didn’t seem glad of his approach. Rather she looked like a deer that sensed the hunter’s arrow aimed at it and believed it would remain notched as long as no movement disturbed the air. Yet still, she stood her ground, meeting and holding his gaze with a bit of defiance reflected in her eyes. Ah, yes, his duchess was accustomed to bending others to her wishes. He had the odd sensation that, like a tree caught in a windstorm, he was bending as well—only he wouldn’t realize the exact extent of his giving way until he was felled. Foolish thought there, as he was always aware of how much he was yielding and how much farther he would. It was the reason, until recently, he’d given his sire a large share of his earnings to save his brother from transportation to Australia for a crime he hadn’t committed. He’d been willing to give much more than the earl had demanded for his favor, but then, when it came to his family, Aiden would give damn near anything required of him. Not that he went around boasting of that little flaw in himself.
When he reached her, he took her hand, pressed a kiss to it, never removing his gaze from hers. “Were your dreams as naughty as mine?”
She averted her eyes then, and he watched as a swath of dark pink swept over her décolletage, her throat, her chin, and he cursed the mask for preventing him from seeing her cheeks blush a rosy hue. He took pleasure from knowing she had dreamed about him. “Perhaps you’ll tell me about them later.”
Her eyes swung back to his. “I very much doubt it.”
“I can be most persuasive when I set my mind to it.”
“My reason for coming here has not changed. However, if you can’t accommodate me—”
“Oh, I’ll accommodate you, and when I’m done, you’ll be ever so glad I did.”
A hitch of her breath, a parting of those lush lips, another blush, a deeper pink than the first.
He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow in a way that even to him seemed rather possessive. “Come. I want to share with you one of the rooms we didn’t get to last night.”
She didn’t resist when he began to escort her along the outer rim of the gaming floor. He didn’t go through its center because he didn’t want any other lady snagging his attention or trying to divert him from his goal of seduction, especially as Selena had tossed down the gauntlet about accommodating her or she’d go elsewhere. Over his rotting corpse. He liked the challenge of her but was baffled by his reasoning for not simply tossing her on the bed, hiking up her skirts, and plowing the sweet furrow she was offering. He’d had women before who simply wanted a bit of the rough.
Perhaps that was all she wanted as well—to experience spreading her legs for someone beneath her. Why was he so deuced determined to ensure it wasn’t the bedding she craved buthim? Why was it not enough to simply have a frolic? Why did he want what they experienced to have some meaning for her, to be more than the scratch of an itch?
Damn her, damn him, but he didn’t want her to be easy.
He took her to the ballroom, to the same door he’d opened for her the night before, up the same steps, into the same corridor, but past the room with the fainting couch to one at the end of the hallway. The footman posted outside it who, on an ordinary night, was to ensure any ladies within had all they required, had been told to gently tell any who wanted to make use of it that it was unavailable for entertainments this evening.
Once he spotted Aiden, he gave a curt nod, reached back, and opened the door. Aiden escorted her inside, the softsnickof the door closing behind them making the room seem far more intimate than it might otherwise.
“A billiards room?” she asked, clearly surprised, releasing her hold on him and wandering over to the green-baized carambole table.
He saw no point to answering the obvious. “Remove the mask.”
With a sigh, she swung around. “I told you that I can’t.”
He strode over to her until they stood toe to toe. “Then I’ll do it for you.”
This time her sigh was long and drawn out as she no doubt fought to come up with a scathing retort. “You’re so blasted annoying. That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“My man outside the room isn’t going to let anyone come in. There’s not a chance in hell that we’ll be disturbed. I won’t bed you if I can’t see all of you.”
“I’d have thought you’d be a man who’d enjoy the mystery of it. You could envision me to have an appearance most to your liking.”
“Are you hideous then?”
“Would it matter to you if I were?”
“No.” His answer came without hesitation, without falsehood. He was intrigued by her reasons, what she had revealed of herself so far. She could be a crone beneath that mask, and he wouldn’t care. Well, he’d care a bit.
“Then why your obsession with my removing the mask?”
“Why your obsession with keeping it on?”
“It provides a shield, makes it easier to do what I ought not.”
“That’s the thing, sweetheart. You’ve already divulged that you’re a widow. You’re not being unfaithful to a husband. Not a single reason exists for you not to take pleasure where you can.” He skimmed his fingers along her jaw, then down the nose of her mask. “I want to touch all of you. You can see the advantage to that, surely. Besides, I don’t fancy feathers.”
