Page 16 of Her Duke at Midnight
Cecily reached for the door latch. The urge to cross the hall and speak to him nearly overwhelmed her. He was awake and so was she. Somehow, to her tired and unsettled mind, it made sense to seek him out.
Except that Fiona was in the room next to hers, and the commotion in the hallway might have woken her too. Also, Cecily had no reason to think Everton would welcome a visit from her any more than he had the lady he’d just turned away.
And yet she knew he would.
There was something between them. On her part, she recognized it as an attraction more powerful than she’d felt for any man. The kind of attraction she’d never been allowed to feel because her choices had been made for her.
But, clearly, attraction was nothing new for the Duke of Everton. If Fiona’s stories of the man were anything to go by, he was skilled at seduction, well versed in the kind of carnality Cecily had never experienced.
She’d been a timid, innocent bride with no real notion of what awaited her in the marriage bed.
What would it be like to have Everton’s sort of confidence? To feel so free to indulge one’s passions?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she twisted the latch and walked across the empty hallway to the duke’s bedroom door.
She paused, listening for the sound of any other movement along the hall. When she heard none, she tapped lightly with her fingertips.
Footsteps sounded on the other side, and Cecily considered scuttling back to her room.
Before she could, he yanked open the door.
“Louisa, I—“ He cut off whatever else he’d planned to say with a sharp intake of breath.
His eyes were a deep sapphire in the low gaslight of the hallway, and he flicked them down, taking her in. Firelight gilded all the sharp edges of his face, and she wondered what he could see of her.
She’d donned no robe and stood in nothing but her nightgown. Goodness, she was an impulsive fool.
Everton studied her so long, so silently, that she expected hewouldturn her away.
Then he shocked her by lifting his hand, palm up, bidding her to take it.
She did. Heaven help her, she did. And as he drew her inside and closed the door behind them, she knew she’d made the first truly, daringly independent choice of her life. The choice had been hers, and the consequences would be too.
Everton released her hand and stepped back to look at her. This time, he didn’t assess her. He held her gaze, almost willing her to look away.
“Why have you come?” He whispered the words, his voice rough and low.
“I wished to speak to you.”
He scoffed at that. A bitter sound that ended on a long sigh. That was when Cecily noticed the glass in his hand.
“Yes, I’ve been imbibing. So this isn’t the best time to…talk.” He emptied the snifter in one gulp, then gestured at her. “Aside from the fact that it’s near midnight and you’re not wearing—“ He swallowed hard, almost as if he’d choked.
“Neither are you.” Cecily let her eyes take in the stretch of skin she hadn’t dared look at yet. His shirt was unbuttoned nearly to his belly, and in the fire glow, she could make out ridges of muscle and a dusting of dark hair.
“I was…” He gestured again rather than saying more and busied himself with pouring more golden liquor into his glass.
“You were going to take a bath?” Cecily noticed the steaming tub out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry for interrupting your ablutions, Everton.”
This had been a poor choice, as impulsive ones often were.
Cecily spun and gripped the door latch.
“Cecily, wait.”
The sound of her name on his lips made her shiver. A delicious shiver. Then a bit of the heat of the room warmed her blood.
“You use my name as if we’re well acquainted,” she told him in a low voice.
