Page 34 of Dukes Do It Better
Emma placed her hand on his forearm. “Please don’t take offense to that. I guess I’m pleasantly surprised. A person’s home says so much about them, I think. And this place could say many wonderful things about you.”
He dipped his chin, only slightly mocking. “I will take your comment as a compliment then. Can I help you out of this costume?”
Emma gripped the sides of her hood. “Costume? I thought it wildly appropriate for a late-night assignation at a bachelor’s residence.”
He grinned. “Oh indeed. Anyone who saw you knew you were bound for some lucky bachelor’s bed.” Mal gently spun her by her shoulders one full turn. “I’m checking for a sign on your back saying ‘On my way to my lover.’ But you chose subtlety there, I suppose.”
Emma laughed and stepped back. “I can find another bachelor’s lodging if need be, Captain. Since clearly I’m dressed for the occasion.” She peeked out from beneath the hood enough to wink.
He didn’t appear too concerned at the teasing threat. “And miss out on all the fun we can get up to? How about I hang your cloak and convince you that this is the only man’s bed you’ll need for a while, milady?”
She unhooked the clasp at her throat and let the cloak slide like water into his hands. “Cocky.”
Mal slung the garment over one arm and drew her close. “Confident,” he argued, before dropping a light kiss on her lips that left her wanting more.
Which he probably knew, damn the man. It was impossible to not find confidence attractive.
Emma slipped the handle of her reticule over her wrist, taking comfort in her knowledge of the contents as she tugged her gloves off one finger at a time. Contraceptive sponges and the French letters she’d purchased were nestled inside the velvet bag, along with her tinted lip balm. She’d briefly considered bringing her tooth powder, but she didn’t plan to sleep here. If all went to plan, she’d enjoy the captain, he’d enjoy her, and she would be in her own bed well before dawn. After all, Alton would wake not long after the sun. While she’d left instructions with Miss Lacey, and Phee knew where she was, Emma didn’t want her son to miss her.
She draped one glove over the cloak on Mal’s arm, then placed the other glove on top. Holding his gaze, she began to unbutton the pearl accented frogs along the front of her gown, and backed toward the stairs. “I assume this is the direction to your room, Captain?”
“If I say no, do you intend to undress in the foyer?”
Emma grinned wickedly and undid the last button, letting the simply styled gown fall open to show a whisper-thin chemise and embroidered stays. Watching his face, she unpinned her hair, dropping each hairpin into the reticule at her wrist. Those pale eyes followed each movement, lids growing heavy with desire as the pins released a fall of curls. Mal swallowed roughly when she ran a hand through the blond mass so it fell the rest of the way from the coiffure she’d worn to dinner.
Feeling like a siren luring this particular sailor to exactly where she wanted him, Emma shot the captain a wink. His wide chest rose and fell like a bellows, making her fingers itch to explore every inch of him.
As she climbed the staircase, she let the gown slip from her shoulders, then down her back. The fabric fell away from her body, and she caught it in her hand to let it trail behind her. Halfway to the second floor, she heard his grunted curse, then heavy footfalls on the stairs.
Emma nearly giggled. What a rush of power to affect a man in such a way. Lordy goodness, the look on his face before she’d turned to lead the way upstairs. He’d probably follow her through the gates of hell at this very moment, and they’d both have a grand time. Oh, how she’d missed feeling desirable.
At the top of the stairs, she paused, awaiting direction.
“To the right.” His gravelly instruction coincided with his long hands gripping her hips. Mal tugged her against him, and Emma gasped when his hardness pressed into her bottom. The captain wanted her as much as she wanted him, and the knowledge made her giddy with desire.
Emma turned her head and found his lips. It was supposed to be fast—a quick way of reconnecting on the way to the bedchamber. However, Mal didn’t seem inclined to stop kissing her anytime soon, and frankly, she couldn’t remember why she’d thought a short kiss was such a good idea in the first place.
He tasted divine. Heat, with a trace of brandy and a familiar flavor unique to him. She spun and twined her arms around his neck. With his hands under her bum, he lifted her higher, until her legs wrapped around his waist.
Sucking his bottom lip in a nibbling kiss, she let herself fall into the embrace as he carried her the rest of the way to his room. After a moment she felt a door at her back, then the hard surface gave way, and she raised her head enough to see a bedchamber done in dark wood, with draperies the colors of the sea. Grays and blues in varying hues. The perfect room for a lover of the ocean.
The world tilted as he laid her on the bed and followed her down. Having him so close, the weight of him pushing her deeper into the bed, was absolutely delicious. She wished she could stop time and wallow in the feel of him on top of her. Savor the scrape of his beard against her cheek and the way it sent tingles rippling down her neck as his kisses wandered. Relish the heat along every inch where their bodies met. Welcome the press of his arousal into the valley of her thighs. Instead, she registered each sensation in rapid succession and tried not to let the flood of pleasure overwhelm her.
“Perhaps we can set this down somewhere?” He slipped her reticule from her wrist.
Emma blinked and gathered her wits. “There’s a prepared sponge and a French letter inside.”
He smiled and dropped a kiss on her lips. “I have a French letter at the ready as well.” He set the reticule on a table by the bed, within reach. “Now, I can’t deny the view is delicious, but may I remove your stays, Emma? I’m dying to see you.”
The rough timbre of his voice was another sensory tease, feeding the desire bubbling within her. At her nod, his long fingers went to work loosening the ties of the garment until she could shimmy out of her chemise and stays entirely.
“Bloody hell, Em. Nothing is lovelier than you,” he whispered, and ran his fingertips across the globe of one breast.
When he traced the lines on her stomach left by her pregnancy, Emma studied his face. A slight smile tipped up the corner of his mouth as he took his time reacquainting himself with her body. It was oddly erotic to be nude while he remained fully clothed. But after imagining him so many times over the last months, she couldn’t delay the satisfaction of seeing him for a moment longer.
“You’re overdressed, Captain.”
He made a vague noise, acknowledging what she said, but didn’t deviate from his path of brushing his hands and mouth over her body.
