Page 58 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
Her feet were entangled with his, her skirt had hiked up past her knees, and there was that lovely long calf calling out to him to be kissed. He’d like to trail his mouth over it. No, not just it but every inch of her, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.
Her breathing, a soft hushing that warmed his heart, filtered through the room. He wanted to awaken to the sound again, only with her naked in his arms. He imagined the joy to be had in taking her to the vineyards in France—after a stop in Paris. She might not have use for a ball gown but she certainly deserved one. He thought of buying her gloves and stockings and every bit of feminine undergarment he could think of. He didn’t want her wrapping her breasts as though ashamed of them, of being a woman.
But purchasing anything for her was out of the question as was the possibility of again waking up with her in his arms. Even if her mother was a princess, he couldn’t offer her marriage. She’d never be accepted by his family, his friends, his peers. For all of her boldness, there was a shyness to her that would no doubt make life in his world unbearable.
Still he found himself studying the slender nape of her neck, unobstructed by long strands of hair. He could see the delicate cords, the gentle slope. In spite of his best intentions, he leaned in and pressed a kiss there. She sighed and his irreverent cock grew all the harder. “Gillie, you need to wake up now, princess.”
With a soft moan, she somehow managed to stretch without stretching at all, her body undulating against his in such a provocative manner he very nearly groaned with frustration and aching needs. Slipping his arm out from beneath her head, he rolled over, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up, clenching the hand that still had feeling in it and welcoming the painful spikes in the other as blood rushed back into it.
“I fell asleep,” she mumbled on a yawn and he imagined her stretching again.
“It was near enough to dawn I felt you were safe.”
“Why did you call meprincess?”
He glanced back over his shoulder. Her hair, outside of the bandage that had been wrapped around her head to protect her wound, stuck up at odd spiky angles. He found it adorable. “If your mother was a princess, then so are you.”
She slammed her eyes closed. “Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not.” He’d been deeply touched by her story. “I can see you as a princess.”
Opening her eyes, she rolled them. “I can’t believe I told you that story. My senses must have been truly jumbled.”
“I’m glad you did. It never occurred to me how difficult it might be not to know from whence you came.”
“It doesn’t really matter. Not since I grew older. I have Mum. For all the love she showers on me, she might as well have given birth to me. Shall I make us some porridge?”
She obviously didn’t want to discuss it any longer. “Not for me. I should be off.” Reaching down, he grabbed his boots, tugged them on. Standing, he rolled down his sleeves and began the process of making himself once again presentable for going out in the world, knotting his neck cloth, slipping on his waistcoat, shrugging on his jacket. He was desperately in need of a shave, but he knew from his earlier time here she didn’t have a razor.
“I appreciate that you stayed and looked after me.”
“It was my pleasure.” He headed out, aware of her hopping off the bed and her bare feet pattering across the floor as she followed him. He opened the front door.
“I suppose we’re even now,” she said quietly.
He turned back to find her standing near enough to touch, her fingers intertwined in front of her, and he wondered if she’d had to shackle them to keep from reaching for him. He wasn’t as gallant as all that. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he leaned in and kissed her, a short but sweet meeting of the lips.
“Not even close, princess.”
With that, he hurried down the stairs and into the mews where he found his coach waiting, his coachman and tiger standing ever alert near the horses.
“Sorry for the delay in my parting, Maxwell,” he said to the driver as he neared.
“Not to worry, Your Grace.”
“Do hope you didn’t spend the night standing out here.”
“No, sir. We took turns catching a few winks inside the carriage.”
“Still it was inconsiderate of me.” He should have sent them home and had them return this morning. On the other hand, he paid them well enough they expected the occasional inconvenience. As he clambered into the vehicle, he told them where he wished to stop before returning to Coventry House.
Not long after, with all his noble bearing on display, he walked into the nearest constabulary building and up to the desk where two men in uniform waited, choosing the one who looked to be the youngest, least experienced, and most easily impressed. “Was a Charlie McFarley brought in here last night?”
The constable nodded. “He was.”
“I’d like to have a private word with him.”
“Are you his solicitor?”
