Page 20 of Her Duke at Midnight
She’d read of women taking pleasure in copulation, of a “little death” that brought an exquisite sense of completion. But she’d certainly never experienced it with Archibald. And she’d never dreamed it could happen while standing in the arms of a man who ignited her with only the touch of his fingers and his wickedly talented mouth.
In truth, she’d begun to think she was flawed in some manner that prevented her from enjoying carnality the way others seemed to.
Now she knew she wasn’t unnatural or broken. Shewascapable of experiencing pleasure with a man who was patient and giving. Adam hadn’t even sought his own release—he’d been so entirely focused on hers.
As she made her way downstairs, her mind turned over the delicious memories, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d left Everton in distress. Had he even been as aroused as she was?
Perhaps he was so experienced with giving pleasure that he no longer took anything from it himself.
Cecily had certainly become numb to the nights when she was summoned to Archibald’s chambers to fulfill her marital duty. And her participation, her feelings, had never made the slightest difference.
No.She pushed those thoughts away. She had much more appealing memories now. Her whole body felt different, or at least she was more aware of it than usual. Had last night altered her in some way? If so, it felt right. The kind of change she’d been seeking.
The house was blissfully quiet, except for servants carrying dishes into the breakfast room or refreshing the display of winter foliage in a vase near the entry hall.
“Where is the library?” Cecily recalled talk of a ladies’ book club that Lady Derwent hosted when they were in residence in Belgravia. She suspected the couple had a bountiful collection of books.
“Just down the hall on your left, my lady.”
Cecily followed the young servant’s directions and couldn’t help but admire the neatly arranged ceiling-to-floor shelves and the polished wooden ladder that was designed to slide along a rail on one side of the room.
Goodness, there were so many volumes.
Cecily considered a novel. Perhaps something a bit scandalous, though she doubted the Derwents would invest in such stories. Archibald had a collection he hid and thought she didn’t know about, but, of course, she’d found them. Reading them had made her uncomfortable with needs she’d never known quite how to sate.
Though she did now, and that notion made her smile.
The Derwents did stock novels—quite a varied array. And many recent titles too. She recognized one author, Mrs. Ward, whom Douglas often decried as a “do-gooder.” She suspected the book didn’t contain much romance, or Douglas would have focused there for his criticism. But the fact that he didn’t like the author made Cecily curious, and she pulledMarcellaoff the shelf.
One settee looked out onto the gardens, and Cecily lowered herself onto its damask cushions, flipping to the book’s first page. The descriptions were rich, though she found herself reading the same paragraph multiple times.
Her mind kept returning to the previous night, and she willed the thoughts away. She couldn’t be a blushing fool when Fiona returned.
Cecily replaced the novel and perused the shelves again, searching for books on astronomy that she hadn’t yet read. Her favorite was among the Derwents’ collection, and she ran her finger along the spine of Agnes Clerke’sThe System of the Starsas if greeting an old friend.
As she pulled the book down, a sound drew her attention. A soft thud struck the wall behind her, and then, as soon as she dismissed it, a thump came again. This time followed by a low male voice in a cajoling tone, though she couldn’t make out what the man said.
Curious, Cecily went to discover the source of the noise.
From the hallway, she could tell it had emanated from the conservatory. She stepped inside the elaborate, high-ceilinged space, and the voice stopped as soon as her first footfall clicked across the tile floor.
“Hello?” As far as she knew, all the guests and their hosts were outdoors riding across the fields of Kent on horseback.
As she passed a cluster of palms, she glimpsed movement on the other side.
“Cecily.” Adam said her name in a pleased tone, and warmth bloomed in her chest.
Don’t, she warned herself. The duke could give her pleasure. Mercy, could he. But she couldn’t let her heart get tangled in whatever was between them. Fiona said he ended affairs “untidily,” and at least one woman had been publicly devastated.
In her plans for the woman she hoped to become, having her heart broken by a lover was nothing Cecily wanted for herself or her future.
“I heard noises and came to investigate.”
“I didn’t realize how far the sound would carry.” He lifted a small rubber ball that fit in the palm of his hand. “Just trying to entice her.”
“Entice who?”
He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and shed his coat, and Cecily tried not to notice the thickness of his muscled arms or the dark hair that ran all the way to his wrist. But it was hard not to notice when he lifted his hand and pointed.
