Page 35 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
Weston looked impressed as he retrieved the rest of the belongings that he needed and dropped them gracelessly into the open trunk at the foot of the bed that William lay upon.
“That is why I wish to delay a little while longer… I would like to discuss my plans with her. I would not wish to do something foolish like request an audience with her father if she does not wish me to…”
There it was, the uneasy way that William normally conducted himself.
Weston shook his head and dropped the lid of the trunk closed. “I have watched the pair of you together this whole visit, William. I have never seen you speak with a woman so comfortably. I certainly have not had the pleasure of watching you trail behind any woman like a smitten pup. It is both endearing, and something that I plan to tease you for, for the rest of your life.”
William picked up the nearest pillow and hurled it at Weston with terrible aim. The taller man did not even have to dodge in order to keep from being hit. He merely tracked the motion of the pillow with his eyes, and gave his friend a look as if to sayreally?
“Even with your terrible aim, I am very thankful for your company and everything that has happened so far. I think that your love might even defuse the bomb that Cassian is attempting to hold over our heads. But we must not underestimate how slippery of a git that he is. Having alternate options would only benefit us.”
Besides, Weston also needed to request an audience with Lydia’s father for reasons all his own.
“I agree. Now, if you are all ready? I shall see you to the door?”
“No need. I shall venture forth ahead of you and meet you at the inn a few hours down the path? We can set out again together in the morning.” Weston flipped the latch on his trunk closed and clapped William on the shoulder firmly as his friend sat up. “Congratulations, William. Truly.”
With that, he set out for the carriage while the servants finished loading everything up. The very last dredges of his self-control were set on not seeking Lydia out for a lengthy goodbye. He knew that if he did not leave now, that his resolve wouldwaiver and this time he was intent on doing things in the proper order. Well, mostly.
Pulling on his pair of brown leather gloves he stepped up to the carriage and shut the door behind him.
The moment that the carriage pulled into motion, his thoughts drifted right back to Lydia. His hands itched to touch her. He longed for the taste of her on his tongue, to hear the sounds of her pleasure that she had so desperately attempted to muffle.
Everything about her was perfect. She was everything that he could have ever wanted or hoped for in a wife. Headstrong, capable, protective of her family and above all else passionate. The beautiful mystery woman that he had been completely obsessed with from the moment that her lips first touched hers, the only woman he had ever desired in such a way. One way or another, he would have to make her his own.
When he returned from London, and with her father’s blessing, he would propose to her.
The return could not come quickly enough.
Chapter 22
Lydia had spent so many years in this house on her own. She was accustomed to being the only person responsible for the daily tasks and ensuring that everything ran smoothly. It was often a thankless job, but she was happy to do it. It was gratifying work. At least, that was how she had always felt before.
So, why was it now that she felt such a gaping void in the absence of the duke?
Was it truly so simple to grow accustomed to something new so quickly? It was easier to think that she had managed to fall into a new routine as opposed to thinking that she was growing more and more fond of the duke. Being there every morning, spending time with her and aiding in all the tasks required to run a house had brought her so much comfort that without him here to share the load… it was heavier now than it had ever been before.
A true partnership, something that she never would have allowed herself to admit that she wanted. The duke’s absence was so marked that every time she entered into an office or dining hall, she was half expecting to see him round the corner and make some pointed remark or another.
Even if he would just materialize for no other reason than to encroach upon her personal space, she certainly was not going to complain. He had such a remarkable way of blending responsibility and indulgence. Even the slightest touches that he managed to sneak were exhilarating. Poring over hours of ledgers was not nearly so taxing when Weston’s handsome face would linger so close to her own.
The passion she had kindled for him all these years has been stoked into a strong flame and she could not, and would not, extinguish it. To feel like a woman, properly desired, after all of these years?
It was unlike anything that she had ever hoped to feel with her husband. Weston ignited her all those years ago and she never forgot. Her heart fluttered at the thought that he never did, either. For nearly a decade, they had been thinking of one another without even realizing it.
Even now, standing there in her late husband’s office, she could not shake the ghost of Weston. So many miles away from her at present and yet she could not help but to feel as if he were still there with her. The memory of his hands, the way he spoke to her, sent a ripple of gooseflesh down her spine.
Slowly, Lydia trailed her arms over herself. Her touch was feather-light as she attempted to recreate that exciting feeling within herself. Her eyes slowly closed, feeling heavy within her own skin as she fell back onto the corner of the desk with a softthump. Her breathing hitched as she replayed the way he spoke to her, the excitement that he had evoked.
If only they had not been interrupted by her lady’s maid that night all of those years ago, there was no telling what might have happened. She was constantly torn between wishing him to become carried away with himself and take those final steps with her, and her inbred sense of modesty and duty.
Though, if anyone was to shake her sense of modesty, it would only be him.
Perhaps she ought to make more of a move than she had been. Perhaps that would be the best course of action. No doubt he was only attempting to be as respectful as he was capable of being.
When he returned, she promised herself that first night she would make her move. Even if the prospect was somewhat intimidating. What was so wrong with finally wanting something for herself? Was it truly asking for that much to allow herself the pleasures that she had been dreaming about since she was eighteen?
He would not rebuke her. Would he? After all of the advances that had been made, it seemed impossible that he would refuse any advances that she might make. Weston had been making the hints and certainly did not mind kissing her.
