Page 80 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
Gently, he wiped the area he had earlier licked and the inside of her thighs, tinged with blood. “Did it hurt so terribly?” he asked.
“No.”
“There should be less discomfort next time.” Pleasure pierced her with the knowledge they would have another coming together. When he was finished, they changed the sheets, then snuggled beneath them, holding each other close.
“How long will you stay?” she asked.
“I’ll leave before dawn. We don’t want anyone seeing me making my escape.” Tucking his knuckles beneath her chin, he held her gaze. “Unless you’d like me to leave sooner, although I’d very much like to sleep with you in my arms.”
She nodded, snuggling more solidly into him. She loved the smell of his warm skin. “I’d like that as well.”
With his arm around her, he stroked her arm while she lazily drew small circles on his chest.
“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.
“Second, third, and fourth, but all good thoughts.”
“I want you to know I do respect you.”
“No, you don’t. You whisper in my ear.”
He chuckled low. “You have such a lovely ear into which to whisper.”
“I never wanted this before, Thorne, before you. Why are you so different, I wonder?”
“Because I’m a duke.”
“That has nothing at all to do with it. I don’t care one whit about your title. It’s other things. Your kindness to Robin, for instance.”
“I was thinking of paying his tuition at a boarding school.”
Rising up on an elbow, she looked down at him, studied him. “Why?”
“Because he’s a sharp lad. He’d go far.”
“He’d only run off. He believes if he stays here, his mother will find him. I think he believes she’s a fairy.”
“Where would he have gotten that notion, I wonder.”
She eased back down and burrowed against him. “Probably from the whimsical tales I wove when he would awaken from a bad dream, tales my mum would tell me when I was a child and sleep would not come.”
“Perhaps I’ll fund a school nearby. More children would benefit from that, wouldn’t they?”
“You’re a good man.”
“Not so good. I’m six and thirty, and never before gave much thought to those less fortunate than I. I had more pressing matters on my mind: a fast yacht, a fast horse, fast women. Sometime, when you’re of a mind, I’ll take you to France on my fast yacht and we’ll visit all those vineyards.”
She couldn’t imagine it, doubted they would ever do that, was well aware of her place in his life, what she was to him, and if he were more to her, she suspected she was not the first woman to have reached for and caught something she could never hold forever. He needed a woman who could stand beside him as his duchess. Duchesses did not own taverns. Still, it was a lovely fantasy and she said, “I’ll feed you grapes from the vines.”
“And I shall lick the juice from your fingers.”
She wanted that more than she’d ever wanted anything, but realist that she was, she knew it would never come to pass.
Awakening with Gillie in his arms had been one of the more satisfying starts to his day that he’d ever experienced. She was an enthusiastic lover, eager to welcome him into her body—her hot, sweet, tight canal. He’d have luxuriated in her bed all day, but the practical woman had a business to run, so he’d left her while the fog was still thick and the moon still looking down.
By the time he strode into his residence, he was famished and the sun was making an appearance, but rather than risk dealing with his mother, who could already be up, and taking a chance on the ruination of his good mood, he ordered a servant to deliver a tray of food to his chambers.
Once his valet had tidied him up for the day, he enjoyed a leisurely meal in his sitting area, reading the newspaper, imagining how much more satisfying it would be to have Gillie sitting there with him, sipping her tea, reading her own newspaper.
