Page 50 of The Wayward Duke
With a final serene smile, Caroline made her excuses. “I’m feeling a bit hot. Do enjoy the rest of the evening, ladies.” She abandoned her half-full champagne flute and departed the stuffy ballroom, ignoring the raised eyebrows.
In the muted hall, away from the revelry, she found Julian waiting around the corner. Before she could react, he grasped her wrist and tugged her into a darkened study. Caroline’s startled gasp was muffled against his shirtfront as Julian kicked the door shut and backed her against it.
Warmth flushed through her. His clean scent surrounded her, soap and starch and skin. She had forgotten how he could gentle her and inflame her in the same breath.
“Really, Julian. Must you accost me like a barbarian?”
Despite her chiding tone, she always loved seeing this side of him. The aristocratic polish stripped away to reveal the focused man beneath. The man only she was allowed to know.
Julian’s mouth twitched. “My apologies. I needed to speak with you urgently, and discretion seemed warranted.” Then he leaned in and nipped at her earlobe. “And I thought you enjoyed it when I let slip the civilised veneer.”
Heat swept her cheeks, confirmation enough.
“This is hardly private,” Caroline said, acutely aware of the ballroom’s proximity, the faint strains of music penetrating the study walls. She resisted the urge to lean into his warmth. “What was so urgent it couldn’t wait until we got home?”
“I need you to scrutinise something.”
Frowning, Caroline accepted the page and angled it towards the meagre light. The outline of a heraldic crest was just visible, the ink still fresh. He must have scribbled it quickly.
“A family seal?” she murmured.
“On a signet ring Kellerman wore,” Julian confirmed. “Have you seen it anywhere?”
“No. But the style does strike me as familiar. I can’t say precisely why. With better light, perhaps—”
A scuffling outside the study door cut her off abruptly. In one smooth motion, Julian grasped her wrist and pulled Caroline through an inset door she hadn’t even noticed, concealed in the ornate wood panelling. Pitch black inside, some kind of small storage closet or antechamber.
Caroline drew a steadying breath, intensely aware of Julian’s nearness. She could just make out the angular lines of his face mere inches from her own in the gloom, feel the warmth of his lean body bracketing hers. His breaths whispered across her eyelashes. She should step back, move away. But the cramped space tethered them close, chests brushing.
In the next room, furniture creaked. The hiss and flare of a lucifer striking was as loud as a gunshot in the ensuing silence. Together, they waited, attuned to every sound filtering through the thin dividing wall. But whoever had entered the study showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.
When a thud sounded right outside the concealed door, Caroline muffled her gasp against Julian’s shirtfront on instinct. His breaths came more rapidly now, grazing her cheek.
Julian turned his face into her hair and put his lips against her ear. “Don’t move,” he breathed. Gooseflesh swept down her neck and along her spine at the sensation. His voice dropped impossibly lower. “God, duchess, can’t you feel what you do to me?”
He grasped her hips, pressing her against his cock. Caroline released a breath, eyes slipping shut. Then her lips parted on a silent gasp as his hand rose to her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple through the silk.
The door clicked shut in the outer room. Still, neither of them moved.
The air in the small chamber felt electric and alive. His grip tightened on her waist, a wordless warning.
Caroline was seized by a recklessness she hadn’t experienced in years. When her mouth found his in the dark, the space between them fractured. Julian backed her against the wall. He kissed her with none of his usual careful restraint – all tongue and teeth and desperation. Caroline’s fingers sank into his hair, opening for him eagerly.
He groaned against her lips. His hands slid down to grip her backside and tug her more firmly against him. He rocked his hips, teasing friction that was at once too much and not enough.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” His voice was sin in the dark. “Bend you over and take you hard the way we used to? Remind you who you belong to?”
Caroline shuddered, dizzy with need. Anyone could walk in and catch them at any moment. But propriety and caution had melted beneath relentless desire.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Here. Now.”
Julian released a shattered breath. “Then turn around.” The command was raw with wanting. “Fingers first. I want you writhing and desperate to stay quiet.”
Then he slid his hand beneath her skirts to find the slit in her drawers.
“So wet for me already,” Julian said, pushing two fingers inside her.
Caroline’s head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.
