Page 58 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

“Exceedingly dull. But at least then we’ll know.”

He shifted back behind her and moved his hand from her hip to press her palm against the stone column. His chest was against her back now, trapping her in the space between the column and his body.

It was an excellent place to be trapped.

His other hand slid down her thigh. In slow bunches, he gathered up her gown, dragging the hem higher inch by torturous inch. Air caressed her ankles, her calves, her knees.

“I shall make every effort to rouse some enthusiasm when I see you unclothed,” she said, striving for detached tones. “But I have seen many naked bodies, and I doubt yours will be of much interest by comparison.”

“Indeed.” His bored tone matched her own. “When I see you naked, I daresay I’ll be so unimpressed, I’ll continue out of honor and courtesy alone.”

He slid a hand under her now exposed knee, and she did not resist as he lifted her leg to place her knee on the cushioned seat. Under her skirts, his hand stroked upward, over the garter of her stocking, up the inside of her bare thigh. On the stone column, their fingers tangled. He nibbled her ear with a low growl.

She breathed deeply, unsteadily, and said, “I would endure your touch out of sheer boredom. Simply because I have nothing better to do.”

“I shall make every effort to pleasure you, as a gentleman ought,” he murmured. “But you will forgive me if I yawn.”

“I shan’t notice your yawns. I’ll be mentally reorganizing my paints.”

Finally, his searching fingers touched her quim; a gasp escaped her lips. He hummed with satisfaction and nipped her neck. She let her head drop back on his shoulder, surrendering to sensation as he slid his fingers through the tender folds, caressing and teasing until— Oh! Pleasure spiked through her anew; she twitched, arched, gasped again. He responded with that low burr of triumph; those wicked, skilled fingers stayed to pleasure that spot.

“Perhaps we should delay,” he said. She tensed, and he added, “Just long enough for you to paint a mural on the ceiling, as the sight will provide welcome distraction from the act.”

She gathered her fast-scattering wits. “That’s a thoughtful gesture,” she managed to say. “But studying a mural I painted myself will not relieve the tedium of you thrusting away.”

“You misunderstand. The mural is to relieve my tedium while you bounce around on top of me.”

She could not see his smile but she couldfeelit. Pleasure in their game mingled with the pleasure from his dancing fingers, and the sheer thrill of being wicked with Leo, after all these years, Leo so familiar and yet so new.

She forced her mind back to their conversation. “If I must exert myself thus, do be so kind as to read aloud to me during the act, for I’ll surely need a diversion.”

“I shall pack a book for precisely that purpose.Fordyce’s Sermons, perhaps.”

She bit back her laugh. “I might require something a touch more erotic, if I am to succeed in faking any enthusiasm at all.”

“Something like that?” he murmured low in her ear, as his magical fingers sent a new wave of sensations whirling through her delighted, desperate quim.

Her response was only a quivering moan: She had no more breath for words, nor wit for games. She surrendered to his touch, until the pleasure grew so potent it demanded release. Leo held her up with strong arms as bliss hurtled through her and her gasps flew into the garden like startled birds.

Once it passed, she freed herself and fumbled for his breeches, desperate to touch him, to watch him surrender to pleasure too—but somehow he escaped. She reached and reached, but he was sliding away. She could not chase him, with her knees so weak. Instead, she tumbled onto the seat amid tiny persistent shocks of pleasure, her skirts in wild disarray, not to mention her thoughts.

And there stood Leo, on the other side of the rotunda, not two yards from where she sat, yet somehow, suddenly, a thousand miles away. A mere glance provided evidence of his desire. He ignored it, flexing his thighs while he straightened his lapels, his cuffs, the hem of his stupid bloody coat.

How dare he play her game and pleasure her senseless, only to hide once more behind his carefully tailored facade.

That was why she must agree to this affair, she thought fiercely. True: She desired him. True: She could not resist. But she saw his intention now, she saw his true plan: He meant to give her unforgettable pleasure and a final farewell, but without giving her the smallest piece of himself.

Very well. Let him have her body, her surrender, and everything else he demanded too, but in return she would exact her price: nothing less than a piece of him to keep with her once he was gone.

“I take it I have your agreement then,” he said, as coolly as if his fingers did not still carry her scent.

“You know you do. You always did.”

Something flickered in his gaze, a perplexing hint of uncertainty.I will tear you open,she vowed silently,even if I must tear myself open too.

If her thoughts showed in her face, he would never know, for he was already heading down the steps, saying, “I shall finalize the arrangements and send a messenger to inform you how matters will proceed.”

CHAPTER17

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