Page 36 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
He gave a sharp nod toward the area behind her. “Now get on the bed.”
And her stomach dropped to the floor.
Chapter 9
SHE had known, of course, that this was where she would end up, but now that the moment was upon her, it was a little unsettling. The bed suddenly loomed massive and a great distance away.
“Where do you want me exactly?” she asked, nearly forgetting to alter the timbre of her voice until it reflected the throatiness she required. She didn’t like not being in control, yet she suspected tonight she would be merely a puppet, his puppet. The notion should have filled her with anger or dread. Should have had her informing him that she wasn’t a pawn, but could leave anytime she wanted. He wouldn’t force or bully her. She was relatively certain of that. He was simply a man who knew what he wanted. She found that aspect of him quite attractive.
He wrapped both his hands around hers that was holding the snifter. She wondered when her fingers had gone icy, was amazed by how quickly they warmed with his touch. She would like to have him wrapped around her in winter, when the snow fell.
“For now, simply sit on the foot of the bed.” He relieved her of the brandy, turned to set the glass elsewhere, giving her a moment of privacy.
She crossed the short distance to the canopied bedstead and climbed onto the edge of the mattress. Once situated, with her legs dangling over the edge, she looked up, and her breath backed up into her lungs. With his eyes focused on her, Ashebury stood near the fireplace slowly unraveling his neckcloth, his jacket draped over the back of the sofa. He eased the length of linen away from his throat, set it aside, and went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.
“I do my best work if I’m comfortable,” he said, as though he read her discomfiture in the shifting of her body, as though she required an explanation. Not wanting to appear flustered, she refrained from asking how comfortable he intended to get. For goodness sakes, she’d walked unattended through rookeries and slums to assist the poor. She wasn’t some mewling miss.
She was, however, growing increasingly warm as he shrugged off the waistcoat, then loosened a few buttons on his shirt until a small V formed to reveal a hint of his chest. His cuffs were next. He began rolling up his sleeves as he prowled toward her, his gaze never once straying from her. She had a wild notion that he intended to pounce on her, to flatten her onto the bed and devour her with his heated kisses, raining them over every inch of her.
He stopped only when his thighs rested lightly against her knees. “I’m going to remove the pins from your hair.”
“It’ll tumble down.”
A corner of his mouth hitched up in that sensual smile he had that nearly stopped her heart from beating. “That’s the desired effect. I’ll use it to conceal the mask.”
“I can remove the pins.” She lifted her hands and his closed around them, preventing them from reaching their destination.
“I’ll do it.” His tone held no room for compromise.
But the thought of his performing such an intimate service ... what the devil was wrong with her? She’d originally come here expecting a man to engage in something far more intimate. It was ridiculous to be squeamish now.
“Yes, all right.” She needed the words to at least pretend she had some say in the matter.
When he released her hands, she forced them to fall into her lap when she would have much preferred pressing them to his chest. While he was busy searching for her pins, his fingers barely skimming over her hair, she lowered her gaze to the V of skin that traveled from his throat downward. She didn’t know a single man as bronzed as he was. He no doubt didn’t wear so much as a shirt to shield him from the sun when he was traipsing through Africa or the Far East or anywhere else he dared to roam. She was half-tempted to press a kiss to that flesh, to feel its heat and silkiness against her lips, but before she could be so bold, she was aware of the pinging as her pins hit the floor.
She grabbed his wrist and his gaze slammed into hers. “Give them to me instead of tossing them aside; otherwise, we’ll have to search for them so I can put up my hair when we’re done.”
“We’ll find a ribbon to hold it back. I assume you’re not heading to a party after you leave here.”
“In the wee hours? Something reputable? Hardly likely.”
“Then I don’t see the problem. Except for the mask. Its ties are in the way.”
“I’m not removing it.”
“Then hold it in place.”
She put her hands over it, splaying her fingers so she didn’t lose sight of him. Gently, he tugged on the bow. The ties fell forward, the mask slipped ever so slightly. Without his warning, she’d have been revealed. It kindled something sharp and sweet inside her. He wasn’t going to take what she was not yet ready to give. He went back to work on her pins.Clink. Clink. Clink.She felt the shifting of her coiffure, then the weight of her hair tumbling down over her shoulders.
“Glorious,” he murmured right before there was a tug on the mask’s ribbons, and he was securing them.
Lowering her hands, she looked at him through the tiny holes upon which her eyelashes kept catching. Maybe she should get rid of the blasted thing, but his eyes held such appreciation that for a moment she could find no words, take no actions. With two fingers, he was rubbing several strands together as though he’d never before touched a woman’s hair.
“You could have discovered who I was,” she said quietly.
His attention shifted from her hair to her eyes. “You want the anonymity. I can honor that request. God knows there were times in my life when I longed for it.”
“When?”
