Page 63 of A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

“All very confusing, too.” He rubbed her back.

“Harry, we should go to Daventon today,” she suggested, “to begin mending our relationship with our tenants.”

“We need more allies,” he mused, and nodding, he added, “That is an excellent notion. I also think we should host that ball you suggested.”

Her brows rose. “Truly?”

Harry smiled. “Yes.”

Bridget hugged him, delighted. “Thank you, Harry. We will show whoever is doing this to us that we are strong, united.”

“Bless you, my heart,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her jaw, his confidence growing.

She drew back and looked down at him, hunger in her eyes. Gently, she undid his patch. It was daytime and she would see him in more detail, but he was no longer afraid. Bridget had vanquished that fear.

“Belinda, your father, and brother will have to eat alone this morning,” he said, trailing kisses along her neck. “You’re all mine now.” He stood with her in his arms and took her to their bed.

After setting her down, he straightened, instead of covering her body with his, and she sat up, seemingly wondering what he was doing. He did not tell her. She spoke when he began to walk toward the door.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

He rang the bell and returned to her with a wicked smirk, shrugging off his coat. “I want to see how much pleasure I can give you before someone answers.”

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, the gesture hardening his manhood to an impossible proportion.

Chapter 31

Bridget stood, her body already trembling with need before Harry reached her. He pulled his robe off her shoulders and gently pushed her back onto the bed, his finger slipping between her legs.

“Oh, Harry!” Her back arched as his mouth took her nipple and his finger caressed the bud at the crest of her center, the feeling taking her breath away. Bridget rolled her hips while her hands sought something to hold. She found the bed covers and clutched them.

Harry slipped a finger into her while still caressing her bud, then he slipped another one, forming a rhythm that created the perfect tension in her belly. His mouth moved to lavish attention on her other breast, and her hands found his head to keep him there. The sensation his mouth and hands made were almost impossible for her body to bear, yet she wanted more.

Within moments, Bridget was writhing and panting, her senses climbing to a divine place. Perceiving her peak, Harry rose and took her lips, his finger stroking faster. The tension in her body split and she cried against his lips. He withdrew his finger from her and held her against him, brushing her damp hair from her face and kissing her ear.

“Now I understand why some women said they died and were brought back to life when they received such pleasure,” she said after a moment.

“And how do you know this?” Harry asked, looking down at her with a cocked brow.

“I once overheard the maids in Malmore House talking about it while I was looking for the housekeeper.”

“Now you have felt it, and I promise you more,” Harry chuckled and gazed lovingly down at her just as a knock sounded at the door. He grinned, satisfied with himself for what he had achieved in such a short time.

Bridget gasped when he ran his tongue between her folds before rising. And she was surprised when he wore his patch before going to the sitting room to order their bath, and removing it on his return. She could not love him any more than she did at that instant, and it almost overwhelmed her.

He showed her other ways to gain pleasure from each other until their bath was cold. Harry and Bridget did not leave their chambers until early afternoon when the carriage was brought around for their trip to Daventon.

Their first destination was the cottage of Mr. Bailey, who worked a very large field and was one of the most displeased tenants. His wife opened the door and stopped to stare at Harry.

She had never seen him before, at least not after Salamanca, but he was somewhat annoyed by the attention. Bridget, ever tactful, squeezed his arm and spoke to the woman, drawing her attention away from him.

“Mrs. Bailey, may the duke and I come inside?”

“Y-yes, of course. I beg your pardon, Your Graces.” She curtsied and opened the door wide.

He glanced down at Bridget as they walked in, silently thanking her. A footman followed them in with a basket of gifts they’d had prepared. Mrs. Bailey had refused gifts from Bridget the first time, and he wondered if she would do the same now.

“Welcome to our home, Your Graces,” Mrs. Bailey said once they were seated.

---