Page 60 of A Deal with the Duke of Ice

“Yes, the cook outdid herself this time.” Lord Benedict acknowledged. “Can I offer you some port? Whiskey, perhaps?”

“No, thank you. I really… really ought to go, now.” Rosaline was suddenly aware of a certain look Lord Benedict was giving her. It was less cold than usual, something sharp and hungry.

It was starting up something sharp and hungry in her, too, and she was keen to get away before the feeling resolved itself. Her stomach was doing somersaults, and that strange, aching feeling in her lower abdomen and between her legs was back.

Was it some form of indigestion?

She got shakily to her feet, careful not to look at Lord Benedict. He stood up smoothly, completely calm and collected.

“Very well, Rosaline. I will summon the carriage for you at once. May I say…” he hesitated, taking a step closer.

No, no, no!Rosaline thought.Don’t come closer! I need you to stay away from me, to give me space until I can decide what this feeling is and what on earth I ought to do about it!

Lord Benedict paid no attention to Rosaline’s internal voice. He stepped closer and closer, until Rosaline could see the flecks of gold in his eyes and smell the heady scent of his cologne.

“You look lovely, Rosaline.” There was a kind of raw honesty in his voice, which made Rosaline’s gaze shoot up from an inspection of his cravat to his face.

That hungry expression was back. Rosaline swallowed hard, struggling to hold back the almost irrepressible desire to dosomething. She had no idea what, only that… that…

Rosaline gave up thinking. She threw her arms around Lord Benedict’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him.

Their lips met, and she heard Lord Benedict give a brief, muffled expression of surprise.

Then his arms were around her waist, sliding up her back, his fingertips brushing across the back of her neck, light and tantalizing. Their bodies were pressed together, and Rosaline realized with mingled excitement and horror that it only made the ache worse, more insistent. She could feel something firm pressing against the side of her hip, and she was willing to bet that it belonged to Benedict.

The soft, velvet edge of a large sofa bounced against the back of her legs, and Rosaline broke the kiss with a gasp, twisting to see what was behind her.

It was one of the sofas in the very corner of the room, almost hidden by the vast velvet curtains. Rosaline didn’t even remember moving across the room. She glanced back up at Lord Benedict. He looked dazed, and for the first time since Rosaline had met him, he looked disheveled. His confusion only lasted a moment, and then the old Duke was back. He smiled wolfishly, quirking an eyebrow.

He must have nudged her, because Rosaline found herself tumbling backwards, landing on the sofa on her back.

Lord Benedict was on her in a moment, covering her body with his own. He kissed her on the side of the neck, his five o’ clock shadow scratching her skin deliciously. His hands braced his weight on either side, and he pressed a thigh in between Rosaline’s legs, rucking up her skirt.

When it touched the join of her legs, Rosaline gasped aloud, eyes widening at the sudden, wonderful sensation. Benedict chuckled against Rosaline’s skin, decreasing the pressure.

Rosaline whined, trying to hook one ankle around his leg and pull him back.

Benedict had suddenly gone very still. Without warning, he sat back on his heels, leaving Rosaline feeling rather cold and at a loss. She struggled to sit up, eyes wide.

“What’s… what’s the matter?” Rosaline stammered. Had she done something wrong? Was he having second thoughts?

“We can’t.” Lord Benedict said roughly, swallowing hard. His cravat had come half-untied, and the top button of his shirt. She could see a small triangle of exposed skin and wondered what it would feel like.

Like skin, probably.

There was a very large, very noticeable bulge in the front of his breeches, and Rosaline wasn’t sure whether she wanted to look at it or not.

Well, she was having difficulty keeping her eyes away. It was a little embarrassing.

“Why… why not?” she stammered. “I know it’s not… not ladylike, but I do… do want…”

“God, Rosaline, you’re not making this easy for me.” Benedict groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’d be ruined.”

“You said that no one would know.” Rosaline said, somewhat accusingly.

“Yes, but you can sometimes… sometimes tell.”

“Tell what?”

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