Page 26 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“I can take no credit for it.”
“But you brought me, so you get credit for that.”
His box was near the stage. As Rose peered over the balcony, Avendale was glad that he was able to offer her such a splendid view. Smiling, she looked back at him, her eyes wide. “This must cost you a fortune.”
He shrugged. “I can’t recall. I’ve had it for years. My man of business simply ensures that it is paid for.”
Her smile dimmed just a bit and something he couldn’t quite place crossed over her features. “It must be wonderful not to have worry about something as mundane as pennies spent.”
Was that disapproval in her voice? Envy? Jealousy? He couldn’t accurately identify it, but he was rather sure she was not pleased at the ease with which he acquired things. Nor did he understand why he felt this overwhelming need to ensure she understood that he could have anything he wanted.
“You’re welcome to make use of my box anytime you like.”
She angled her head thoughtfully. “Even after you move on to giving your attentions to someone else?”
He would move on, he knew he would. He always did. And yet he couldn’t quite envision it. “We’ll discuss it when the time comes. Meanwhile, let’s enjoy tonight, shall we?”
“Yes, of course.”
They settled into their chairs just as the lights began to dim. He’d forgotten how seductive the box could be as the shadows moved in. He couldn’t make love to her here, of course, but who would notice the occasional brazen touch? He could skim a finger along her arm, across her nape, her bared shoulders.
The curtains were drawn back, and she shifted up in the chair, actually shifted up as though entranced by the stage. He found himself equally entranced with her. He’d never seen anyone watch a performance with such intensity, such dedication, as though she feared missing a single word spoken, a single movement of the actors across the stage. She didn’t speak, didn’t glance over at him, never took her gaze from the stage. So engrossed, she was almost a statue. Halfway through as the drama intensified, she reached across and wrapped her hand tightly around his, squeezing as though she needed to reassure herself that she was not alone.
He might have leaned over to whisper something naughty in her ear, to nibble on that delicate shell, but he couldn’t bring himself to distract her. Nor could he understand why he took pleasure in watching her enjoy the performance. She quite simply mesmerized him.
When the curtains were drawing to a close, she abruptly came to her feet and began clapping enthusiastically. “Bravo! Bravo!”
He stood as well. She looked at him then, her face beaming. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you ever so much!”
He couldn’t recall ever having so much gratitude showered on him for something so simple. She acted as though he’d been responsible for the actors, the play, the building of the theater. His chest tightened as a gladness swelled. He’d given her this joy and it had taken so little. Would she be so appreciative of everything? Quite suddenly he wanted to bestow everything on her.
Because of the crowd, it was slow going leaving the theater, but he kept his hand on her elbow, creating a path for her. Once outside, he spotted his coach, guided her to it, handed her up. He settled in opposite her, but it was a few minutes before they were able to begin the journey home.
“It was truly wonderful,” she said on a sigh. “More than I could have imagined.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone quite so engrossed with a performance.”
“You must think me quite unsophisticated to get excited over something that you no doubt take for granted.”
“On the contrary, I was thinking how remarkable you are.”
She bit her lower lip, then ran her tongue over it. “I find you quite exceptional.”
He could not miss the desire that rasped through her voice, the sultry lowering of her lashes. He considered diminishing the flame in the lamp, but he wanted to see her. With briskness, he drew the curtains closed over the windows.
“What are you doing?” she asked as they were shrouded in shadows. He heard no fear, no trepidation, merely curiosity. Or perhaps a feigning of innocence for surely she knew what he wanted. He’d been forthright about it and would continue to be so. He wouldn’t force her, but he certainly intended to provide opportunity.
“Giving us some privacy.”
“For what purpose?”
“To do what I’ve wanted to do all night. Kiss you.” He removed his gloves before crossing over and drawing her into his arms.
She came willingly, eagerly, her mouth meeting his, her silken tongue stroking over his, stoking the flames of his desire. He’d had women aplenty but they always followed his lead. But not her. She met him without artifice, without hesitation. He’d known experienced women, but even they had held back. She withheld nothing. She explored, demanded he do the same. She might be a commoner, Society might have the audacity to place her below him, but when it came to passion they were on equal footing.
He liked it, he liked it a lot. He liked her. There was an honesty to the way she moved her mouth over his, plowed her fingers through his hair. There was truth in her desire. She wasn’t seeking an extra bauble or a few more coins. She wanted what could be between them.
He felt it in her slight shimmering, heard it in her sweet sighs and moans, tasted it in the eagerness of her lips, smelled it in the headiness of her perfume as it was heated by her skin. Her skin, flushed now, he had no doubt.
