Page 89 of His Duchess of Scandal
“How could I not?” he repeated quietly, breaking the kiss.
The look in his eyes was so intense that it had her feeling off-kilter. His mouth moved to her chin, then down the line of her neck to her collarbone. He pressed featherlight kisses to her skin, nipping now and then.
Hermia hoped he would leave a mark. The last time he did, and although the marks were faint, they had been a reminder that lasted her a handful of days.
Her fingers slid back into his hair as he moved to her breasts, cupping one in his hand and kissing the other, then switching.
Heavens, he made her head spin. Her breath came in heavy bursts, her back arching to feel more of him.
“Keep your legs open,” he murmured.
Despite the low tone of his voice, the command was clear, and Hermia shivered at how naturally it came to him.
She moaned softly, nodding.
“Can you do that for me, Duchess? Keep them open, no matter what?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The door to the library opened with a bang, interrupting Phoebe’s reading of her favorite poetry book.
She and Hermia looked over to find Charles standing in the doorway, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Come,” he said, beckoning them both.
Slowly, Phoebe lowered her book, hope flickering in her eyes. “What is it, Papa?”
Hermia couldn’t help her smile when she saw Charles.
Their intimate night three days ago hadn’t stopped replaying in her head, and although they had yet to seek out one another again, utterly spent from how many times Charles had brought her to climax, she ached for him all over again.
“I am taking you both out. The day is lovely; it is a shame to waste such fine weather.”
“Out?” Phoebe put down her book hurriedly and jumped to her feet. Her white dress bounced with the movement, the skirt full and frilly. “Where are we going?”
“You shall see.”
Charles’s smile came more easily around Phoebe these days, something in him thawing the closer he let himself get to her. It seemed Hermia’s words that night in the cottage had begun sinking in.
“For now, it is a surprise, but I have a carriage ready.”
Hermia stood up as well, excitement bubbling up in her chest. She looked at him curiously to find only a secretive smile. He gave a subtle nod, a silentI am trying to fix the mistakes I have made. Pride bloomed in her chest.
Within minutes, the three of them were ready and leaving Branmere Manor, filing into the carriage.
For once, Phoebe held in her questions. While Hermia was always ready to humor the young girl, she knew Charles was still learning to be patient with her.
The carriage pulled them through London streets to the outskirts of the city.
Gates rose in the distance, golden-tipped and grand. In the center was a sign, and Hermia bit her lip, knowing it was only a matter of time before Phoebe read it aloud.
“We are at a menagerie!” the girl shouted, shuffling close to the carriage door before they rolled to a stop.
As soon as they did and a footman opened the door, she pushed her way out, leaving Hermia and Charles to hurry after her.
Charles didn’t look annoyed with his daughter’s impatience; for once, he looked overjoyed.
“There are goats here, I believe,” he said quietly to Hermia. “I thought it was a good guess to surprise her with.”
