Page 58 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
Her mouth dried. She sipped more wine, her fingers embracing the glass.
‘I think you have had enough of that, I do not want you unconscious.’ He lifted the glass from her hand and set it on the table.
Her hand fell to her lap.
‘When they clear the table, I’ll ask them to send up a maid to help you undress, and I shall go outside for a smoke to give you time to prepare.’ His fingertips touched her cheek. ‘Smile, sweetheart, this is meant to be a happy thing.’
She licked dry lips. He smiled. The room span again.
His eyes held the depth she’d seen in the summerhouse; Andrew’s eyes, not D-rew’s.
A light knock struck the door.
She stood. The floor swayed.
A maid entered and loaded a tray with the empty dishes and their leftovers.
‘Could someone come to the room and help my wife undress.’
‘Of course, sir.’ The maid looked at Mary, ‘I will return to help you, ma’am.’
‘I will go for a walk and give you time to undress,’ Drew stated.
When the door closed behind him, Mary’s heart raced so hard she thought she might faint. There was no going back after this… This was like her wedding night, but they were not married.
Her hands shook as she took her nightdress out of her bag. She unlaced her boots, slid off her stockings and put the items on top of her travelling bag.
When the maid returned, she lit the candles, drew the curtains, released the buttons at the back of Mary’s gown and unthreaded the laces of the short corset.
‘I can manage now, thank you,’ Mary said as the lacing slipped free.
‘Very well, ma’am, good evening to you.’ The maid bobbed a curtsy and left.
Once Mary was in her nightgown, she could not decide whether to climb into the bed.
When Andrew knocked quietly on the door, she stood at the end of the bed – still undecided.
‘Come in,’ she called.
As he opened the door, his gaze dropped to her toes peeping from beneath the hem of her nightgown. Darkness had gathered in his eyes when he closed and locked the door; a darkness implying deep unfathomable seas of emotion.
The butterflies in her stomach flew so raucously it made her nauseous when his fingers slipped the buttons of his evening coat loose. She got into the bed then, fleeing, so she could hide beneath the covers and not obviously watch him undress.
He shucked his coat off and draped it over the back of a chair, then with his back to her he unbuttoned his waistcoat. Before removing anything else he sat down to pull off his boots, and as he did so he looked up and smiled at her.
She smiled back, her nerves easing.
He stopped undressing when there were only his trousers and shirt left to remove and walked towards the bed. But then he pulled his shirt from his waistband, lifted it up over his head and threw it to the floor.
‘My mother would tell you to pick that up and not cause a mess.’
A deep chuckle resonated from his throat. ‘I shall pick it up – in the morning.’
Her gaze flowed over the contours of muscular ridges and hollows. He was beautiful.
‘Will you get up and remove your nightdress.’
Was it possible for butterflies to stampede? If so, that is what they did within her stomach.
