Page 38 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
“Simply proving a point.”
She couldn’t answer, for his mouth closed over hers in a bruising, claiming kiss.
It felt like every moment she had spent waiting for news from him during these past days, and every held breath sat next to him in the carriage, every glance, collided between their mouths.
And Madeleine…
She could finally accept how much she wanted him.
Her fingers curled into her palms, keeping her hands at her sides, but Alexander’s wandered. His palms slid up her arms, up her neck, and there was a pause where she thought he might keep his hand resting there.
He cupped her jaw, breathing in her gasp as he deepened the kiss.
“Mine,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and Madeleine could only gaze out at him.
Then her fingers were wrapped in his hair as she drew him back to kiss him passionately.
Heavens above, she had never been thoroughly kissed, never in such a way.
A small, needy noise left her as she felt the scratch of Alexander’s beard against the softness of her jaw, her chin. He moved his body over hers, not quite pressing himself against her, but keeping himself braced either side of her.
Madeleine’s body was utter flames, and Alexander only added more when his hands began to wander southward?—
Until the carriage came to a stop.
“Silverton Hall, Your Graces,” she heard a call to announce their arrival.
Chapter Thirteen
“Have the servants collect our bags.”
Alexander slowly pulled back, his eyes dark with lust, his hair messy. His lips were parted, his breathing labored. Madeleine ached for him but she shook her head.
Did she imagine the small nod he gave her in return?
He pulled back, opening the door of the carriage and hopping out.
Madeleine expected, with all his intimidation and dominance, for him to thunder on ahead and leave her to be escorted by a footman but he stayed by the door. He barely met her eyes as he held out his hand to lead her out of the carriage.
As she took his hand, the footman responded.
“Right away, Your Grace,” the footman said, rushing up to one of the servants, who was already waiting.
Alexander led Madeleine up the stairs of Silverton Hall, a beautiful white-faced building with sprawling, large wings sweeping either side, with expansive gardens that wound around the perimeter of the house and beyond where she could not see.
Behind Silverton Hall, the countryside rolled out for miles and miles. In the distance, the glimmer of water caught the light.
“Duchess,” Alexander’s voice brought her back, and she was faced with a line of servants that were aligned up the stairs. “These are my staff,” he told her, and she nodded at each servant she passed. “My valet, Rivers.” Rivers, a blonde man, bowed.
“Your Grace,” he said, “I hope you enjoy Silverton Hall.”
“I am sure I will, Mr. Rivers,” she said optimistically.
Alexander drew her on. “Daniel Fletcher, Silverton’s butler. And then we have Mrs. Turner, the housekeeper.”
“Your Grace.” Both the butler and housekeeper greeted her with a bow and a curtsy, respectively.
“Duchess, if you require anything, do not hesitate to call for me,” Mrs. Turner said.
