Page 24 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
Alarmingly, her cheeks went hot, then her throat and belly. He was so compelling she stared helplessly, absurdly grateful for the darkened room. Jules drew a soft breath, trying to calm the wild pounding of her heart.
The duke tilted his head, baring to her gaze the strong column of his throat. She refused to look lower than his shoulders, not wanting to feel that baffling heat stabbing her belly. He inhaled, and it came on a soft growl when he released his breath.
She bit into her lower lip, hard, for that thumping heat low in her belly responded viscerally to that low growl. The corner of the duke’s mouth curled upward and seemed mocking and cynical. Still, she was struck by the incredible sensual beauty of that small smile. Unexpectedly he turned his head and stared directly at her.
Jules froze, even her breathing suspended. Though she held herself astonishingly still, her heart jerked with more erratic force. Surely he could not see her.It is impossible. Yet she felt way down inside her, every nuance of his stare. Perilous tension coated the air, and she waited for him to move closer to her, but he turned away and padded over to the bed, the darkness hiding him from her entirely. Jules could not say how long she waited, listening for sounds that he slept. It could have been a few minutes or an hour. She heard nothing, and again she couldn’t escape the feeling the duke knew someone was in the room with him.
But why did he not say or do something if he suspects it?
She closed her eyes and drew strength for calm, allowing that she might be panicking in vain. There was no peril, and she only had to leave his chamber without being noticed. Jules waited a few more minutes before softly moving from behind the drapes. She paused, then lowered herself to her knees and crawled on her hands and knees to the door. She almost smiled at her absurdity but marshaled her reaction and ventured forward as fast as possible. At the door, she reached up and gently eased open the latch, grateful the hallway was also dark. Perhaps if the duke was awake, he might not notice the slight opening of his door. She crawled through the small space created, and once in the hallway, she lurched to her feet and hurried toward her door.
Jules deftly entered her chamber and stood alone in the center of the room, her palm pressed against her chest. She slowly took off her disguise, removing all of her clothing until she stood naked in front of the large cheval mirror, save for the bindings across her chest. Unknotting the strings, Jules unwrapped the bindings and casually tossed the thin strips of linen on the chaise. She stared at her naked form, the smallness of her breasts and the roundness of her hips and buttocks. Her thighs and calves were toned and well-shaped from her many physical activities, and her stomach almost hollow.
Resting a hand on her belly, a soft breath shuddered from her. Jules had never reallylookedat her body, and she did so now, for she was painfully aware that earlier it had somehow betrayed her mind and composure. There had been a reaction to the duke that had been wholly unusual, and Jules had felt that odd stirring way down inside of her. Trailing her fingers to her navel, she watched her hand in the mirror as if it was a stranger who touched her so and not herself. Those fingers were slim and elegant, hesitant yet also bold and curious as they ghosted over the dip and hollows of her body, for the first time feeling the softness of skin beneath her blunt fingertips.
Resting those fingers right above her mound, she whispered, “Here…this is where I felt that heat.”
To her wonder, a soft pink blossomed over her skin, painting her body in delicate shades of roses. Dropping her hand as if she had been burned, Jules took a steady breath. Padding over to the large bed, she dropped her body onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. She had never before wondered about carnal relations between a woman and a man. Never hungered or even owned a fleeting touch of curiosity.
Was that burst of heat desire? Why was she even thinking of it now after one fleeting encounter? She closed her eyes, recalling the feel of the duke surrounding her, the fleeting touch of his fingers against her hips when he caught her…the provoking brilliance of his dark gray-blue eyes. The way he had smelled her, as if she were a thing he could consume.Just now, in your room, did you also smell me?Jules laughed in the emptiness of her room.
This is preposterous.
The duke was merely an interesting specimen to analyze, and the unique reaction experienced at his nearness was…
“Nothing,” she whispered. “Nonsensical, and it has no relevant bearing on the situation here.”
I must never forget that.
…
Jules and her father had been at Longbourn Park for three days and had not met with the duke alone since. He was adept at simply ignoring their presence nor had he given any indication that he suspected Jules had been in his chamber. The duke extended no invitations for a private meeting and whenever her father tried, he was politely rebuffed with a reminder that His Grace was busy.
Jules was amused but also chagrined. They had limited time to help him in whichever way they could, yet the duke locked himself away in his study for hours, and everyone seemed hesitant to interrupt. Whenever that imposing oak door opened and she had a glimpse inside, it was to see the duke seated in his chair, a book in his hand, an air of intense concentration about him. He was a voracious reader, and she gathered he was consuming the written word, hoping it would adequately inform him about the years he’d been missing from society.
Her father was frustrated by his lack of interest. However, Jules was patient, and she did not press the duke’s forbearance. What she did was to carefully observe him whenever he met in the common rooms or the dining hall with his family, all fifteen of them—his mother, sister, aunts, uncles, and several cousins.
The duke appeared notoriously ill-disposed toward long conversation. He preferred to listen and gather his thoughts before speaking. Whenever he did speak, he did so in single syllables and did not elaborate, to his family’s evident ire and frustration.
He displayed a complete lack of interest in the activities his family organized—cards, croquet, charades, and even cricket on the lawns. Not only was his sense of smell superior, but the duke also had exceptional hearing, for he always seemed to know when someone approached long before Jules saw anyone. And he never permitted the familiarity of anyone touching him.
“I have never in my life seen anything so uncivil,” Viscount Hayfield, also known as Uncle Hubert, muttered when the duke pushed back his chair and walked out of the dining room without any sort of announcement.
“Perhaps the meal is not to his liking,” Aunt Margaret said, casting a frown at her nephew’s retreating back. “He barely eats!”
Everyone seemed anxious that the duke had left the dining table and the savory feast laid out for their pleasure. And it was a grand feast indeed of roasted duck, roasted pork, stuffed quail, prawns in creamy garlic sauce, wild rice, and an assortment of vegetables.
“He always leaves, Uncle Hubert,” Lady Felicity murmured, lowering her fork, and staring after her brother.
There was an air of pained sadness about her, but Jules had observed that Lady Felicity always avoided the duke’s presence. Unlike his mother who always attempted to engage him.
Sadness flashed in the duchess’s eyes, and she cast a desperate glance toward Jules. “Perhaps His Grace might appreciate your company, Dr. Southby, and you, Mr. Southby.”
Truly it was a command to follow the duke. Jules eased back her chair and stood, her father quickly following suit.
“It would be our pleasure to see if the duke is amenable to some company,” her papa said.
The duchess nodded once. “Thank you, Dr. Southby.”
