Page 57 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“I’ve never left London.”
“You’d no doubt love Paris. From what I understand ladies go there to purchase their ball gowns.”
“What use have I for ball gowns? No, I want to visit the various vineyards.” She glanced back over her shoulder, but her angle was such that she could see little more than his bare feet. Why did the sight cause her stomach to quiver? “Have you seen them?”
“It never occurred to me they’d be worth my time.”
She turned back to the lamp. “I think it would be fascinating to meet the people who give us something that can bring such pleasure. I’d like to pluck a grape from a vine, toss it into my mouth, take off my shoes and walk through the soil that feeds the vines. I’d like to see how the wine is made. And taste it every step along the way.”
“I suspect it’s rather unpleasant at first.”
“Which would make the end result all the more miraculous.”
“You like wine.”
“Mmm. And whisky.” She laughed lightly. “Almost everything I serve.”
“I’ve never known a woman who drinks anything other than wine.”
Closing her eyes, she fell into a memory. “When my brothers started drinking, they invited me to join them. I developed a taste for things. I can tell the difference between the good stuff and the rot. You won’t find the rot in my place.”
The bed shifted and she figured he was rolling over. If she weren’t so weary, she might have looked over her shoulder again to see if his feet were stacked upon each other. Instead she welcomed the lethargy.
“Gillie?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t go to sleep.”
“I... won’t.”
“Keep talking.”
She shook her head as much as she was able without moving it from the pillow. “No other dreams. Just vineyards.”
Quiet eased in around them, and she wondered if she should ask him about his dreams. But then he was a duke. He had the money, means, and power to make all of his dreams a reality. What could he possibly wish for that he didn’t have? Other than a bride who didn’t leave him standing at the altar.
“Gillie?” His voice was low, tender. “Do you knownothingat all about your parents?”
He’d asked her before but maybe he doubted the veracity of her answer, thinking she hadn’t known him well enough at the time to be honest in answering his impertinent question. They knew each other a bit better now. Perhaps if the room hadn’t been quite so dark, or if she couldn’t feel the warmth from his body or wasn’t aware of the weight of him on the other side of the bed—
If she hadn’t been able to smell his tart citrusy fragrance that reminded her of bergamot and lemons. If he hadn’t kissed her, if she hadn’t taken a blow to the head, she might not have divulged her secret fantasy, one she’d never shared with anyone, not even her brothers.
“When I was younger, a child really, I would imagine that my mother was a princess. She fell in love with someone considered beneath her. I don’t know. A palace guard or the village blacksmith perhaps. She was naughty with him, got into a bit of a bother. They wouldn’t allow her to marry him, of course, even though he loved her, too. They wouldn’t let her keep me because she was so very important and was supposed to make a proper marriage, and I was evidence of her sins. So they left me on a doorstep.”
The bed again dipped as his arm came around her, and she found herself spooned within the curve of his body. “You’re important, too,” he said quietly, near her ear.
She stayed still and quiet, taking pleasure from his nearness, surprised by how natural it seemed to be held by him. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back. So lovely, so calming. Tomorrow night she would miss this, miss him.
She’d always thought it better not to know exactly what one’s life lacked. But now she was grateful she wouldn’t go to her grave having never been held by a man.
Chapter 16
He awoke with her lovely backside pressed up against his hard cock, his arm around her narrow waist, her hand over his where it rested just below her ribs. Sometime during the night she moved her head from her pillow to the crook of his other arm and it was now as dead as a doornail. He cursed it for being so inconsiderate as to prevent him from feeling even an inch of her.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, hadn’t intended for her to fall asleep, but a stillness had settled between them after she’d told him of her musings when she was a child. She imagined herself to be royalty. She was certainly regal in her bearing. As well as possessing strength, courage, and determination. He hadn’t known what to say at that moment and so he’d held her, the words he’d finally muttered inadequate to express how she affected him. There was an innocence to her that belied her rough upbringing. Yet at the same time there was a worldliness to her that indicated she had a far deeper understanding of human nature than he.
To leave her on a doorstep. How could anyone be so cruel? He was well aware the law didn’t favor those born out of wedlock. He’d heard and read horror tales regarding how some had been disposed of. She’d beaten the odds and survived. Although he suspected she wouldn’t survive much longer if she continued to leap at men.
