Page 39 of Her Duke at Midnight
“But could we have a long engagement?”
The breath he’d been holding whooshed out of him, and his heart started pumping again when she stepped closer and twined her arms around his neck.
“A long engagement.” His sluggish brain could only focus on the prospect of Cecily being his. Forever.
“Yes, maybe a few months?”
A sigh of relief made his bones feel a bit like warm jelly. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms, lay her out on the rickety rented bed, and make love to her.
His wife. Eventually. One day. After a few months.
“A few months,” he agreed, then he slid a hand around her nape and pulled her in for a kiss. He tasted her deeply, his sweet, sensual wife-to-be, and then had to pull her collar aside to kiss her neck and lick that delicious spot at the base of her throat that had never yet failed to make her moan.
“So three?” he asked when he straightened again and noted that her eyes had gone dark with the same desire making the blood rush to his groin.
Still, there was enough blood flowing in his brain that he knew the importance of quantifying this waiting period as specifically as possible.
Cecily let out a husky laugh. “Maybe two.”
“So two months,” he purred and began working the buttons free on the front of her bodice. “And then we can share a bed every night?”
She tugged at his shirttails until they were free of his trousers and pushed the fabric from his shoulders.
“Perhaps just one month will do,” she whispered as she slid her hand lower to stroke him until she made him groan.
“You name the date, Cecily,” he told her, cupping her cheek. “I never dreamed I’d find you, so I’m willing to wait as long as it takes.”
“I love you, Adam.” She said the words softly, but they shot into his chest with the power of an arrow’s strike. Not painful, but a pointed reminder that the organ was working now, and it was hers.
“I love you, my duchess.”
