Page 48 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
“I insist. He shall wish to receive me, I promise.”
“I cannot allow it, my lady, I shall order someone to escort you home.”
“No!” Lydia said a touch too firmly, and then attempted to backpedal. “What I mean to say is, I cannot leave without seeing His Grace. I understand the uncomfortable position that I am placing you in, but I must.”
The butler regarded her for a long moment before finally stepping to the side. He grabbed a candle from the small table behind the door and locked the door behind Lydia as she slipped inside. She hugged her cloak more tightly around herself as she followed the butler into the drawing room. She would have much rather been turned loose in the house so that she could seek him out on her own.
“Remain here, and I shall return in a moment. If he refuses to see you…”
“I will leave… please.” Lydia agreed.
The butler pursed his lips and headed up the stairs slowly. It felt like forever before the duke finally came around the corner, his hair a mess and sleep still clinging to his features. He did look worse for the wear, but she could not stop herself. Her feet carried her across the room swiftly, her hands lifting to cup his face so that she could examine him properly. She turned his head this way and that, and mercifully he did not make any effort to stop her. She simply needed to be absolutely certain that he was all right and that it was merely sleep or something similar that bothered him.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about? Not that I am not thrilled to see you,” the duke groused, his voice still rough with sleep.
“I had a horrible dream…” Lydia started, folding herself into his chest without waiting for his permission. Her arms tucked between them, she could not breathe properly… until she felt his arms envelope her.
“A dream that forced you to rush out here in the dead of night?” Weston chuckled softly, pulling her more tightly against himself. His chin rested on the top of her head, one hand comingto cup the back of her head and holding her even closer. Only then could she inhale comfortably.
“Yes. Is that all right?” Lydia said in a small voice.
“Of course it is all right, I only wish that you had not put yourself in danger to accomplish it.”
“I was careful.”
Weston said nothing for a long moment. She knew what he was thinking. One could only be so careful when it came to matters such as that. He had not even seen that she was not properly dressed yet, either.
“So, this bad dream?” Weston asked softly, allowing her the space to move back from him when she felt stable enough to do so. She looked up at him with tears welling in her eyes, her full bottom lip between her teeth. Where was she supposed to start?
“What if the news tomorrow is bad? What if… what if something has happened or… what if I had never reached you in time. I…”
Weston silenced her with a kiss to her forehead. “Your mind is running away with you again. I am here, and whatever happens tomorrow I shall happily face at your side.”
Hope fluttered in her chest. “You truly mean that?”
Weston gave her a wry smile, and bent just enough to scoop her up into his arms. He carried her over to the small couch in the drawing room and settled down on it, with her legs ending up draped over his thighs. It was not close enough. She pulled the string on her cloak, letting it fall off of her shoulders and into a wad of fabric behind her.
“In truth, Lydia, I should like to do everything at your side.” Weston continued as she lifted herself up onto one knee, draping the other across him. His hands easily settled on her thighs, pulling her onto his lap more comfortably as she straddled him. It was terribly intimate and exactly what she needed. Even now, sitting astride him, she could not feel enough of him.
“What do you mean?” Lydia asked, her focus shifting to his lips as her hands rested delicately on his shoulders.
“I mean, I would like to marry you, Lydia. Then we shall never have to be parted again.”
Her breath hitched, his words not registering for a full heartbeat before her mind stilled, the lusty haze and need for him dimmed for only a moment as she fully processed his words. “What?”
“Marry me.” He repeated.
Lydia’s heart fluttered. She could hardly imagine what he was saying. The small smile on her face spread rapidly to fully overtake her.
“This was not how I wished to ask you, of course, I had a whole thing planned but-”
Weston’s voice was cut off by her throwing her arms around his neck and holding to him tightly “Yes! Of course I will marry you!”
Hands skittered over her waist, banding around her back, unfurling heat inside of her that pooled low in her belly. Her hands cupped the back of his neck as she pulled back from him just enough to slant her lips over his. Something unleashed between them.
A flame that danced between their skin and coursed through her very veins. It was just the two of them now. Nobody to stop them, nobody to answer to or interrupt them. There was absolutely nowhere else that she wished to be. There was no space left between their bodies, every ragged breath that he took, she could feel against her chest.
Her hands shifted between them, tugging the strings of her dressing gown loose and shaking it down her shoulders sothat she could feel him better through the thin fabric of her nightgown. The heat of his hands was everything, slowly sliding down her waist to grip her hips, tightening as she experimentally rolled her hips forward into him.
