Page 28 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“Yet you stopped when I asked.”
“I’m not a barbarian. I want you, I want you completely. But I want you willing.”
She released a long, slow sigh. “I should go in now.”
He drew back the curtains. The door opened and he stepped out. Then he handed her down, walked her to the door.
“It was a remarkable night,” she said. “Thank you.”
With one hand, he cupped her chin and tilted up her face. “We are not yet done, Rose. Take whatever time you need, but know that one night very soon you will be mine completely and absolutely.”
He brushed his lips over hers, then stepped back.
“Sleep well, Your Grace,” she said, before opening the door and slipping inside.
As he strode back to his coach, he doubted he’d sleep at all. Never in his life had he ever wanted to possess a woman as much as he wanted Rosalind Sharpe.
With tiny tremors cascading through her, Rose pressed her back to the door, surprised her legs had retained enough strength to support her. Never before had she lost such control of a situation, of herself. Never before had she been so frightened by the power that a man could wield over her. He could cost her everything.
She had to look beyond pleasure but it was so blasted difficult when her nerve endings had been transformed into tiny stars sparkling in the heavens, alive with some sort of electricity shooting through them. She loved kissing Avendale, loved the play of their mouths, loved the warmth he generated. When he slipped his hand beneath her petticoats, she knew he was traveling where he ought not, but she could not bring herself to stop him, to bring a halt to the wondrous sensations that he so easily brought to life.
Had she understood where the journey would end—
She’d not have stopped him. She was still struck by the magnificence of it. Who’d have thought? Could she bring the sensations to him without full copulation? She hadn’t considered it while in the coach, but now the possibilities were invading her mind. Unfastening his trousers would be the first step, obviously, and then—
“Are you all right? You look like you’ve had a bit of a shock.”
With a start she jerked away from the door, grateful to find her knees didn’t buckle. She bestowed upon Merrick a stern look. “I’m perfectly fine.”
And she hoped that nothing in her face gave away what she had experienced in the coach. It was too personal, too intimate, too wondrous.
“Will you be preparing for bed now?” he asked.
She wasn’t certain she’d ever sleep again. “No, I’m going to visit with Harry for a bit if he’s still up.”
He was, in the library sitting in a chair by the fireplace. The only light in the room was provided by the small fire dancing on the hearth. Holding a glass of amber liquid, he scrutinized her as she approached. She did hope the flush had left her skin, did hope she didn’t carry the fragrance of pleasure.
Bending down, she brushed a kiss over his cheek. “Hello, dearest.” She noticed the book resting in his lap. “What are you reading?”
“Last of the Mohicans.”
Straightening, taking the chair opposite his, she asked, “Is it any good?”
“It’s interesting. He put his hand on your back on the way to the carriage.”
She almost teasingly asked if he was referring to the last one of the Mohicans but she could tell that he was troubled. “You were watching from the window, were you?”
He gave a subtle nod, his eyes, the same piercing blue as hers, containing no guilt or remorse.
With a sigh, she said, “He was being solicitous. It’s how gentlemen behave.”
“It seemed—” His jaw tightened. “Possessive.”
“It wasn’t. He doesn’t own me, Harry.”
“He’s big.”
She offered him a slight grin. “Not as big as you.”
