Page 103 of His Runaway Duchess

No, not afraid. There was no fear, only a pricking anxiety. She edged closer still, flattening her hands against the strong planes of his chest. One of his hands came up, curling around hers, and his other hand ghosted across her cheek.

“Turn around,” he whispered.

His voice made goosebumps rise over her skin. She obeyed, turning until her back was turned towards him. His hands ran briefly over her shoulders, darting across the back of her neck and down to the small of her back. On impulse, Daphne twisted up her hair, pulling it over her shoulder and out of his way.

When she felt his lips press against the nape of her neck, at the top of her spine, she closed her eyes, letting the sensation sink into her. She knew what was coming even before Edward began to tug at the laces binding the back of her dress.

Part of her had expected him to struggle on account of the ridiculous layers and tight knots, but her clothes progressively loosened, more and more until she could step away from him, turn back, and let the heavy folds of her dress slide down her shoulders and hips, leaving her in her petticoats and chemise.

Edward’s gaze skimmed down her form, hungry.

“You take something off now,” she heard herself say.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Giving me an order, wife?”

She grinned. “Maybe. Are you going to obey?”

“Of course.” He gave a flourishing bow that made her laugh. “You are aduchess.”

Straightening up nimbly, he stripped off his jacket in one smooth movement, then his cravat, and finally his waistcoat, dropping the expensively brocaded fabric into a pile on the floor.

“And the shirt,” Daphne added, unable to swallow back a flare of lust.

She’d seen him bare-chested before, of course, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to see it again.

He grinned wolfishly, his teeth glinting in the gloom. “Ah-ah-ah, my dear. Now it’s your turn.”

This, she thought, was a fair request.

Keen to get it over with, Daphne stripped off both of her petticoats, kicking the silky garments out of the way.

Now she was only wearing her chemise—a wantonly thin, little thing that did nothing to hide the way her nipples stiffened in the cold air.

It appeared that Edward had noticed that, too. His eyes darkening, he took a step forward, his fingers reaching out as if to ghost over the curve of her breast.

“Nowyou,” she said, a little more severely than she’d intended. Her breath was coming hard at the moment, it seemed.

Edward wasn’t smiling now. There was an urgency on his face, something hungry and eager. He stripped off his shirt without further ado, and the moonlight played over smooth, toned skin. Daphne reached out hesitantly, intending to touch him, but before her fingers could make contact, she found herself swept off her feet and into a pair of strong arms. She was deposited on a firm, flat surface, her legs left dangling, and it took her a moment before she realized where she was.

“Is this the dresser?” she whispered.

“Maybe we should light the candles, after all,” Edward murmured, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers. “I’d like to see you, my dear.”

She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“I like it this way,” she whispered. “Next time, we’ll have all the light you want. How about just one, then?”

“I can deny you nothing, it seems,” Edward responded, and there was a harsh, desperate quality to his voice now.

It almost hurt Daphne to let him go.

He prowled like a hungry tiger across to where a single candle stood on the mantelpiece. He lit it, filling the room with a buttery, flickering glow that cast thrilling, dancing shadows. Once they had some light, he came back to her, and she wrapped her arms around him again, almost trembling with eagerness.

He kissed her, and she closed her eyes, letting the dark take over. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and moved down to taste the sensitive skin of her throat. Daphne kept her eyes closed, each sensation seeming to be magnified in the darkness.

His fingers skimmed the tip of her shoulder, his palm briefly cupping the curve of her breast. It sent a wave of razor-sharp desire through her, and she breathed out, arching her back.

“You’re lovely,” Edward breathed, repeating what he’d said the first time they’d come together.

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