Page 60 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
Rolling them over, he tucked her beneath him and began trailing his mouth along her throat, her bare shoulders. They hadn’t bothered with clothes when they came to bed.
She heard the distant bonging of a clock. Four times. The one in the foyer, she thought dreamily. She briefly wondered why the servants hadn’t stopped the chimes for the night.
“I thought it was later,” she murmured as Avendale slid down and began to give attention to her breasts.
“Mmm?”
“It seemed we’d slept longer.”
“I’m not sure how much longer we could have slept. It’s afternoon.”
She furrowed her brow. The curtains were drawn, the room dark, but surely it was morning beyond the windows. Not afternoon. Not four in the afternoon. “It can’t be.”
He eased down farther and circled his tongue around her navel. “I’m fairly certain it is, sweetheart. We’ve slept the day away.”
Bolting upright, ignoring the jarring pain to her head, she shoved on his shoulders and scrambled out from beneath him. “Why didn’t you let me know?”
Lying on his side, he grabbed her arm, preventing her from leaving the bed. “What the devil, Rose? We’re having a pleasant lie in.”
“I was supposed to be at the residence at two.”
“What difference does a couple of hours make?”
“It matters. I promised.” Jerking free of his hold, she clambered off the bed and hurried to the wardrobe. She selected a simple dress that would require no assistance to don. No corset, a single petticoat. “Can you please shout down for them to have a carriage readied?”
Leisurely he left the bed as though she had all the time in the world. “Why this obsession with seeing your servants every afternoon?”
“I’ve told you before: They’re not my servants. They’re my friends.” After securing the last of the buttons, she reached for a brush and began working the tangles out of her hair. She caught his disgruntled gaze in the mirror. “Please, Avendale.”
He snatched his dressing gown from the floor at the foot of the bed. “I don’t like this part of our arrangement.”
Grabbing a ribbon, she pulled back her hair, secured it, and faced him. “Regardless, it is part of the arrangement. If you want me to return willingly this evening, you will hold to it.”
She saw the familiar fury, wondered that it failed to frighten her.
“God help me,” he snarled, “I should have had enough of you by now but I haven’t.”
With that he left to see about a carriage. After she fetched a pelisse to protect her from the rain, and her reticule, she followed him out.
She arrived at her residence to discover her worst fears realized: Harry was gone.
Chapter 12
Avendale sat sprawled in his library, slowly savoring his scotch, watching the clock on the mantel, listening to the chimes of the one in the hallway as the minutes dragged by. One hundred and twenty of them. Double what he had allotted her for the afternoon. The only reason that he was still here was because he was allowing for the rain and the likelihood that the carriage would be forced to travel more slowly.
It irritated the devil out of him that she was not with him for every hour of every day while she was supposed to be in his company. He had told her that she had to be with him for a week. He would deduct these hours when she was away from the total hours found in a week and insist she not leave until he’d had that many hours in her company. Perhaps he would deduct the time she was sleeping as well.
With a growl, he shot out of the chair, crossed over to the fireplace, pressed his forearm to the mantel, and stared into the fire. What was wrong with him? Why was he so bothered by her leaving for a spell? She would return and they would carry on. They’d dine, then tumble onto the sheets—after he’d stroked every inch of her body. He had some oils from the Orient. Perhaps he’d use them. Drive her mad first.
It was only fair, as she was doing the same to him.
Why hadn’t she returned? His driver had specific orders not to take any detours. What if she had slipped out through the back garden? She’d been unduly put out with him because he hadn’t woken her in time to keep her appointment. How was he to know that the specific hour was so crucial? Why was it? Why would the little man or the giant care?
Everything within him stilled. He assumed the little man and the giant were the only ones in the residence now. Stupid assumption on his part, just because they were the only ones he’d seen. What if there was someone else? Someone she loved?
Just because she’d been untouched the first night didn’t mean that she had no other man in her life. He lifted his gaze to the clock. Ten more minutes had passed. Suspicion reared its ugly head.
He wanted to trust her, but he didn’t. She was a swindler. She’d lied, deceived him before. Why was she so secretive about her blasted hour that had now evolved into more than two?
