Page 26 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
He felt a stab of triumph. Yes, he saw it there, in her eyes. The anticipation, as well as the hesitation. She was remembering that moment when he had touched her hand, just as he was.
He shivered slightly, even though the afternoon was still warm. He watched her raise a hand to her face to push back a stray lock of hair.
Her hand was trembling.
Chapter 13
As soon as they walked into the house, Ara heard the sound of Ruth practising piano. Her mother turned to them both, wide eyed.
“I must consult with Cook about the evening meal.” She paused. “Can you accompany the Duke to the stables, Ara? I will join you there after I have finished.”
Ara felt her face burning. Her mother couldn’t be more obvious if she tried. She knew that there was nothing she needed to say to Cook that couldn’t wait. The menu for the evening meal had already been decided this morning, before they had left for the dressmakers.
“Of course, Mama,” she said slowly, her face burning brighter. She cast a glance at the Duke, who was standing there impassively. “If you would follow me, Your Grace.”
She could feel him just behind her, as she led him out of the house towards the stables. Suddenly, her heart was thudding in her chest, like a drum. A vision of the last time that they had been together in the stables flashed into her mind.
His hand, over hers. His touch.
Her feet felt heavy, as if she were walking through quicksand, and her body felt strangely weighted down too. As much as she wanted to be alone with him, she didn’t. The paradox of it was so intense that she simply didn’t know what to say.
They reached the stables. Pem didn’t have his head over the stable gate today. He must be further inside.
Quickly, she unlocked the gate, stepping inside. The Duke followed her, without speaking. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her.
It was dark in the stables; she had to blink rapidly to adjust her eyes to it. And then she saw the figure of the chestnut horse, standing at the very back. He whinnied softly in greeting.
She strode toward him, forgetting about the Duke entirely for a moment.
“Hello, old friend,” she cooed, reaching out to stroke him. “How are you?”
The horse whinnied again, nudging his head against her. Slowly, she stroked him, whispering softly to him.
She could feel the Duke, just behind her. She tensed slightly, feeling a sudden accompanying tension within him. But she didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. She truly believed that her voice had dried up entirely in her throat.
She jumped, just a little, when she saw him stroking the horse. The flash of his white hands, against the horse’s coat, in the darkness. They were almost circling, caressing him gently, over and over.
Her eyes felt mesmerised by the sight. She simply couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of his hands on the horse.
Slowly, inexorably, she saw his hand move towards hers again. She let out a strangled gasp as it closed over hers, softly but firmly.
Waves of sensation, the same as the last time, coursed through her. But this time, she resisted the impulse to pull away and to jump back. This time, she forced her hand to stay there, as fascinated by it as a cat watching a mouse.
She heard him hiss slightly, as if he had been scalded. At the sound of it, the sensations intensified. She closed her eyes, relishing the new, impossibly wonderful feelings that he was evoking in her, just by the touch of his hand on hers.
Her heart was thudding so violently she thought that he must surely hear it in the stillness.
Suddenly, he broke contact, turning towards her. She gazed up at him, feeling as if her feet were rooted to the spot.
He didn’t say a thing. He came closer to her. He was so close that she could feel the tension vibrating through him, rather like the string on a violin after it has been strummed.
She watched with fascinated eyes as he leaned forward, taking her chin in his hands. And then his head dipped down. The shock of his lips upon her own was so intense she couldn’t suppress a moan in the back of her throat.
Slowly, surely, his lips explored hers, rather as if he was tasting an unknown fruit. She shivered, as the same sensations started coursing through her again. This time, though, they were building as the kiss deepened.
He tilted her head backwards, almost devouring her lips, his tongue pressing into her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock. She knew that she should break away, run away from him, as a good young lady should. She knew that what he was doing to her wasn’t proper in the slightest.
But she felt as if she had turned to water. She couldn’t leave him. If he took his hands away from her, she would surely fall limply to the ground.
