Page 9 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
A dark eyebrow arched. “Victoria?”
Virgin. Not that she was going to admit that to a man who’d probably deflowered half of Christendom.
His eyebrow lowered, his dazzling smile returned, his eyes glittered with a hint of wickedness. “No,” he murmured in a provocative way that caused warmth to bloom in the pit of her stomach and spread throughout her entire being. “Something more exotic. Venus, perhaps.”
“Perhaps.” It was unconscionable that she could be so enamored of a man with his reputation, and yet for a lady seeking adventures in a boudoir, this man could deliver. Of that she had no doubt. Sensuality radiated from every pore of his being, from his immense height—he had to be well over six feet—to his well-shod toes.
She moved her head back slightly so his finger was no longer on her lips although his other hand had yet to leave her shoulder. Taking a sip of the scotch, she was grateful her own hands weren’t quaking with her nervousness. When she had considered her plans for this night, she’d certainly never contemplated falling into bed with a duke, especially with one known for his sexual exploits. Women spoke of him in whispers, his prowess legendary. He would no doubt laugh at her fumbling, her inexperience. She wanted her first, possibly her only, time to be with a mortal, not a god.
Another swallow, more gulp than sip. She wasn’t certain how to extricate herself from this situation. Did she simply walk away? Or did she confess that he was too close to fantasy—
But then wasn’t fantasy what she yearned for? If she craved memories that could carry her through to her dotage, wouldn’t it be best to seek out a man with vast experience, a man who knew his way around a woman’s body, a man who would take charge, would ensure the coupling was unforgettable? Based on his reputation, he was the perfect man for her needs. If she was honest, he reigned at the top of her list of desired lovers ... not a difficult status to obtain when he was the only one on it. But she’d always known that he could barely be bothered to give her the time of day, much less consider her as a bed partner. He didn’t need her dowry. He didn’t need anything from her.
“Is this your first time—” he began, making her wonder if she wore her inexperience on her sleeve. Only she didn’t have sleeves. She had only the bare arm that he was slowly drawing tiny circles along.
“—here,” he finished.
Probably no harm in admitting that. She nodded. “It’s not quite what I expected.”
“You thought it would be an orgy?”
“Something like that. People are standing around talking, when I suppose I thought they’d be doing naughty things.”
His blue eyes darkened. “Oh, make no mistake, they’re doing very naughty things. You see Lord Wilton speaking to the lady in the red mask?”
“Yes.”
“I suspect he is telling her how he plans to nibble on her earlobe, her neck, her shoulder, how he will take his mouth on a journey over every inch of her body.”
“Why doesn’t he simply get on with it?”
“The pleasure is heightened with anticipation, with a slow stoking of the fires that will eventually consume.”
Yes, she could see that. Ashebury’s words alone had set kindling alight within her. Imagining him nibbling on her, she grew so warm, it was a wonder she didn’t melt into a puddle of molten desire at his feet. “Is that what you do? Build the anticipation with words?”
“No, I’m more a man of action. I simply do it.”
“And if the lady objects?”
“I suppose I’d stop. But I’ve yet to have a lady object.”
“You’re certainly not lacking in confidence.”
He captured her gaze, held it with a challenge in his own. “Would you want a man who was?”
He had the right of it there. She wanted a man who knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it remarkably well. With a quick shake of her head, she turned her attention to her scotch, finishing it off, grateful that it was finally kicking in, helping her to relax.
Taking the glass from her, he passed it off to a footman, never shifting his eyes from her. She found herself wishing a man would look at her with that intensity if she weren’t masked. She considered tossing it off, but then he would walk away and she would never again have the opportunity for the attentions of one such as he. Or worse, he would laugh at her audacity to come here. She had confidence in all things save her ability to lure a man into wanting her.
“I must beg your forgiveness,” he said. “Gentlemen aren’t supposed to approach the ladies but rather are to wait until they’ve made their selection.”
“But then you’re not one to follow the rules.”
His eyes narrowed again. “Weareacquainted.”
“Your reputation as a hellion is quite well-known and documented from what I read in the gossip papers.”
“I suppose I have my moments.”
