Page 34 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
“Please,” she said for a third time, pushing herself onto him deeper and harder.
As he moved his hand to a gentle rhythm, he pushed his lips against hers, kissing her, loving her.
“You are the most beautiful, most damning woman I have ever met, Arabella Sinclair.”
Her only reply was a whimper as waves of pleasure washed through her. She tipped her head back, allowing the sensation to take hold her completely. It felt so good it almost hurt, the knot in her centre tightening and tightening until …
“Oh, oh, my Lord …”
He chuckled in her ear as her pleasure ran down his hand. “Now you know what you do to me. What you drive me to.”
She fell back against the bookcase as he stepped away, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean himself up. She could barely catch her breath, spent and exhausted.
“It is you who has bewitched me,” she panted. “And I don’t know if I shall ever be able to free myself.”
He looked at her as he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket, and then he approached her with such tenderness that she thought her heart would melt. He kissed her softly: her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, and he helped her pin her gown back in place.
“And neither do I ever want you to, dearest Arabella.”
Chapter 17
It had been three days since the party at The Haven. Three painfully long days. Arabella was in the conservatory, her grandmother teaching her the basics of whist. She wasn’t listening, though. Ever since her run-in with Sebastian in the study, she had not been able to focus on anything.
So often, her mind took her back to that place, that moment, when she was so completely undone. She had explored such things on her own, of course, but with him, it was so very, very different. It had felt like he had lit a fire within her, and while his administrations had dampened the flames somewhat, it still burned inside her.
“Are you even listening, Arabella?”
“What? Sorry?”
She blinked, the dark study falling away to be replaced by the light conservatory. The gardens lay just beyond, their colours bright in the afternoon sun, and the white, cast-iron table in front of her was covered in cards.
Priscilla shot her a worried glance. “Is everything all right, Arabella dear? You’ve been in another world for days now. Did something happen at your father’s party?”
Arabella felt her cheeks redden. “What? No, of course not. What on earth would happen?”
“I don’t know,” Priscilla replied, eyeing her carefully. “But there’s something the matter.”
Not the matter, Arabella thought,but the good.
“I’m just tired, Grandmother,” she said, smiling at Priscilla and hoping that was enough to placate her.
“Yes, your father does have a tendency to overwork you.”
Before Arabella had a chance to reply, Gibbs entered the conservatory. He bowed to them.
“Your Grace, My Lady, please forgive the intrusion, but there is a gentleman here to see His Grace. I explained that the Duke of Westment isn’t currently at home, and he suggested that both of you might care to take tea with him.”
Priscilla’s hand fluttered to her neck. “Goodness. Itisunusual to have gentleman callers at this hour of the day. But I suppose …” She glanced at Arabella. “You don’t have much opportunity to practice your etiquette with callers of that nature.”
“Who is it?” Arabella asked. Her heart beat in her throat, and she could hear the steady pounding in her ears.
“The Duke of Ravenswood, My Lady. He says he has made your acquaintance before.”
Arabella swallowed. She had hoped it was him while hoping it was not. She was thrilled at the prospect of seeing him again but terrified that she wouldn’t be able to disguise her desire in front of her grandmother. His image in the throes of passion flashed in her mind again.
“Is it true, Arabella?” Priscilla asked, leaning in towards her. “Have you met this gentleman?”
All she could do was nod.
