Page 32 of The Duke's All That
Chapter 14
The first thing Seraphina noticed when she woke the following morning was the faint headache behind her eyes, her body’s typical response after the rare occasion when she spent a night over-imbibing. The second thing she noticed was that, for the first time in what felt forever, her night had been blessedly blank, no nightmares marring the expanse of dreamless slumber she had somehow been gifted.
The third thing she became aware of—which should have been the first, she realized as she gradually grew more aware of her surroundings—was the incredibly broad chest beneath her cheek, and the strong arm about her shoulders…
… and the thick, decidedly bare leg between her own. Immediately the lethargy of a moment before disappeared. There was a man in her bed. Worse, she was wrapped around him like a squirrel climbing a tree. And even worsethan that, she thought with no little horror, she was wearing naught but her chemise.
“Gah!” she cried, an instinctual, guttural sound that tore through the quiet of the room, even as she desperately attempted to disentangle herself from the man’s arms. No easy thing, considering the weight and strength of said arm, as well as the length of sheet that seemed to have wound itself into a veritable knot about them.
Unfortunately, the combination of her outburst and thrashing were not conducive to keeping the man blissfully asleep and unaware of her position atop him. He startled, his large body jerking, even as his voice, deep and gruff with sleep, rumbled through the room.
“By all the saints! What the hell?”
She froze at that familiar Scottish brogue, one hand on the mattress beside his head, the other gripped about the sheet that had somehow anchored her to him… and her thigh, pressed indecently against that most private part of him, something that was not remotely concealed no matter the layers of her chemise and his… kilt? He froze as well, gaze clashing with hers. And then her confusion dissipated, like a warm breath on a pane of glass, and the realization of just where she was, and whom she was with, came to her like a bolt of lightning. She was with Iain, on the road to Scotland, to secure a divorce. A goal that did not seem as imperative as it had just yesterday, considering how absolutely right it was beginning to feel being pressed up against him.
But why was she inbedwith him? Her brain, thankfully, was now fully awake, and not about to let her suffer unduly, as the memory of the evening before came flooding back. They had drunk whiskey, had learned the truthof their separation, and when Iain had made to go off after her father, she had enticed him to drink even more whiskey in an effort to keep him with her. When they had become sleepy and she should have retired to her room she had not wanted to leave him. She had told herself it was to make certain he did not sneak off in his inebriated state to confront her father. But the truth of the matter had been that she had not wanted to be alone. So they had climbed into the massive bed together and had immediately fallen into quite the most peaceful slumber she could remember ever having.
Iain, still several long seconds behind her in understanding what was going on, frowned up at her. “Seraphina?”
His voice was a deep rumble, vibrating his chest. That very chest that the tips of her breasts brushed against. Electricity shot through her nipples, and quite against her better judgment she let out a little gasp. His eyes zeroed in on her mouth at the small sound. And suddenly his confusion was gone, replaced with a heat that caused her body to burst into flames. When he began to stir against her leg, his cock hardening and pressing into her thigh, she was finally prodded into movement. Quite literally.
Rearing back from him, simultaneously breaking the hold of his arm about her shoulders and the sheet about their entwined bodies by sheer force, she tumbled from the bed, just barely staying on her feet as she scuttled across the room. But then she made a nearly fatal error: She glanced back at Iain. He was sprawled on his back in the bed, white sheets like a cloud about him, his shirt gaping at the neck and highlighting his strong throat and the dusting of fine hair across the massive breadth of his chest.
His kilt tenting over his erection.
Ah, God.
Her mouth watering in the most baffling way, she hastily looked away, only to spy the rest of her clothes in a messy heap on the floor. Grasping this distraction for all it was worth, she lunged forward, gathering the articles into her arms—and sending a dark glare to the empty whiskey bottle, now on its side on the small table before the cold hearth, as she did so.
“I’ll just go ready myself for the day then,” she said, her voice much louder and higher than warranted. She did not look Iain’s way again as she hurried for the connecting door, but that did not stop her from being achingly aware of him, seemingly carved in stone—no, do not think of that particular body part of his as stone—not having moved a single muscle since she’d lurched from the bed. Blessedly she soon had the door between them, slamming it with much more force than she should have. She leaned back heavily against it, closing her eyes in mortification, clutching the mass of wrinkled clothes to her chest.
She was an idiot. An absolute idiot.
Phineas chose that moment to make himself known. He squawked impatiently from behind the cloth cover of his cage in a tone that indicated it was not the first time he had done so that morning, the sound of his beak and claws clattering against the brass bars muffled by the sheet. Seraphina hurried forward, lifting off the cover and opening the cage door. But no matter how she focused on talking to her pet and feeding him and giving him plenty of pets and love, nothing could distract her from the voice inside her head telling her to go back through the connecting door and return to Iain’s bed and arms—this time for more than sleep.
Which was absolutely ridiculous, she sternly told herself, face heating as she took a small knife to an apple and cut a slice off, passing it to Phineas. They were going to get divorced. They were most certainly not on this trip to renew their relationship. Yes, their separation had been based on a lie—or, rather, several lies, all put about by the same evil person. They should never have been torn apart.
But that did not mean they could just pick up where they had left off. They had their own lives to lead, ones that did not include reclaiming a past that was well and truly gone. No matter how utterly delicious Iain had become in their years apart.
Flustered as an image of that delicious body filled her mind, she rose, leaving Phineas happily eating his breakfast, and made her way to the basin in the corner of the room. Pouring a quantity of cool water into the bowl, she quickly removed her chemise and took up a small washcloth, washing her face before rubbing the damp fabric over her arms, her chest, her stomach. And then, hesitating just slightly, she dipped the washcloth between her legs.
How would it feel, she wondered as her eyes drifted shut and she slowly dragged the washcloth against her sensitive flesh, to open her legs to him? How would it feel to take him into her body again? When they had first lain together, they had been young and inexperienced, with stars in their eyes. Now, with years between then and now, they would each bring something new to the table—or, rather, bed. She was certain he had not been a monk in the years since. There would be no green boy fumbling and eager. And she had been with others as well. Granted, most of her encounters had been for survival, a way to support her sisters in their darkest days, but she was not ashamed of those occasions.She had done what she had to do and would do it again if need be. But how would it be with Iain now, when she was so much more aware of what her body liked—and what Iain might like as well?
This line of thinking, however, was not doing her any good. Frustrated, she blew out a sharp breath before, throwing the washcloth down on the stand, she stormed to where she had deposited her balled up clothes from the previous day, jerking them on. No matter the truth that had come out, no matter that they now knew neither of them had betrayed the other, their time had passed. There was no reclaiming even a small portion of what they’d had.
Yet that did not stop her mind from conjuring images, quite against her will, of what it might be like to lie with Iain. She had seen enough of his body upon leaving the bed that it did not take much of an imagination to wonder. Dear God, he was finely formed, even more so than he had been when they’d been young. Of course, she had not fully appreciated his body then. She’d been so innocent, and while she had enjoyed their lovemaking to an extent, she had been too overcome with nerves to properly experience it.
Now, however, older and much more experienced—and with his half-clothed form still bright and fresh in her fertile mind—she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to lie with him. How would his large hands feel on her bare skin? Would they be as gentle as they had been when they’d been young?
And was he wondering the same about her?
That final question had her blanching. Ah, God, what if he was? She recalled the feel of his cock against her leg, how it had grown hard, how he looked as if he might kiss her…
She blanched again, even as that place between her legs turned molten. Surely his physical reaction to her had been as natural and unintended as hers had been. He could not possibly wish to renew things between them, even if it was only physical. But then an even worse idea came to her: What if he believed something had already happened between them?
She moved about the room in agitation, packing up her things and setting the room to rights, though she had not so much as slept in the bed. No, of course he did not think anything might have occurred. And, of course, he didn’t wish for anything between them. She slammed the door to the empty armoire closed with more force than needed. But in the slight chance he did, on both counts, she had best set things straight between them, and the sooner the better.
As it turned out, however, making certain Iain did not have any expectations for something between them was the last thing on her mind when she saw him next.
