Page 26 of Daring with a Duke (The Jennings Family #2)

26

Ash

I t was midnight by the time Ash had argued enough with himself and decided he should go to Felicity. Which was why he currently found himself outside her door in the darkness. He rested his forehead against the door. If he went in there, there was no way he would leave without bedding her. And his arguments against were becoming perilously thin. Especially after dinner.

Dinner had been…well, it had been deuced odd. It had started out in strained silence. His ever-exuberant daughter even quiet, picking up on the tension between her papa and her brother.

Ash had delicately broached the subject of Colborn’s broken betrothal to Pandora. He had feared her reaction, even more so than he had his discussion with Colborn. Pandora and Felicity had grown close during Felicity’s visit, developed a bond much stronger than Colborn had ever developed for Felicity. And now Pandora was no longer going to have Felicity as a sister-in-law.

Felicity was going to be gone from their lives. His gut seized and he blew out a slow breath, the warm air rebounding off the wood of the door back at him.

But then Pandora’s reaction had left both him and Colborn with chins on the floor. Because neither of them had expected Pandora’s, That’s terrific news!

This works out perfectly, she had continued into the stunned silence. Now Papa can marry her instead. Felicity has always been much happier with Papa than she ever was with Colborn.

Pandora could always be counted on to voice exactly what was going through her mind. Ash had thought he was accustomed to the fact. But that matter-of-fact declaration had left him incapable of words. He had shared a wide-eyed look with Colborn, who had then winced and shrugged as if to say, Pandora probably has a point.

Ash had wondered if someone had slipped something in his drink. Perhaps someone was playing a trick on him. That had not been how he had expected dinner to go.

He had tried to gently remind Pandora that he was much too old for Felicity. To which Pandora had said that Felicity felt like a mother to her, so didn’t it only make sense that Felicity marry her Papa?

His foolish heart loved his daughter’s logic.

But Felicity was only ten years Pandora’s senior, the same age difference she shared with Colborn. A gap that put Felicity in elder sister territory, not Mama territory. He pointed this out to his daughter, and God love his daughter, because she had come back with, Yes, but even though Colborn is ten years older, he’s always seemed ten years younger.

Colborn had snorted into his drink and water had come out his nose. Pandora had looked pointedly at Ash and said, I don’t think maturity has much to do with age, Papa.

Wasn’t that the truth?

He rocked his head against the oak door. Marriage was clearly not on the table—that was much more than Ash deserved—but a night together? His insides twisted over themselves. Was one night too much? God, why would the guilt, the sorrow, the agony never go away? He squeezed his eyes tight. He knew why. He wouldn’t let it. He was trapped here, justifiably so. He couldn’t even imagine, didn’t even know what it was to be happy any longer. But Felicity…

But he wanted her so bloody badly. One night with the woman he’d fallen in love with. Something just the two of them would share. No one else need know. And then it would be a memory that he could hold on to during all the cold, lonely nights that lay ahead of him.

He lifted his fist and knocked softly. And then shifted back and forth on his feet and waited. And waited.

He was about to knock again when the door swung open. His gaze clashed with a knowing amber one, and his ability to speak deserted him. She stood there, the soft glow of candles illuminating her, glinting off amber tresses that tumbled down her back and over her shoulders in waves. Waves splayed over a thin, nearly transparent night dress that dipped indecently low in the front and looked like it was much more suited for seduction than for sleeping.

How did one go about breathing again?

“Hullo,” he said dumbly.

Her lips curved, and she yanked him inside.

Ash stumbled into Felicity’s bedchamber and turned just as she snicked the door shut. Her gaze clashed with his and those amber eyes glimmered with unspoken threat. He was suddenly quite aware he was the fox and she the huntress.

She pinched the ties of the straps holding up her dress and gave an unhurried pull. His gaze locked on her fingers, and she paused. Drew out the moment. His hands flexed, his fingers curling into fists, battling against her pull, as though she were tugging on the ties of his restraint. Even now, doubt and confusion warred inside him. If this was truly a wise decision, if this wasn’t still a betrayal, a sin. If he could let it all go.

Felicity gave a final tug, and the silk skated down her body. His mouth went dry. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. Lord, he was jealous of that silk, silk that was a teasing touch, teasing of what was to come. Fingers, lips, tongue.

And in that moment, he knew.

He was sinning tonight.

Because this woman?

He’d welcome the flames of hell if it meant he could sin with her.

She drew the backs of her fingers up her thighs, slow and sure and ever the seductress. Her hands settled on her hips—exactly where he had held her months ago. Her fingertips curled, dug into her flesh, and the embers of gold sparking in her eyes seared him. She knew. She relived that moment. The moment he discovered how truly dangerous this woman was. That she bore the power to bring him to his knees.

And fuck if he didn’t want to be on his knees before her right now. His tongue rolled over his bottom lip before he tugged on it with his teeth. He was a man starved, perpetually staring through the window of the confectioner’s shop, never allowed to taste what lay inside. But today he was finally allowed to indulge.

“Off with your clothes,” she demanded.

His eyes flared wide at the brazen order. At the way his body instinctively obeyed, divesting himself of his shirt and trousers without thought.

Her lids fell low, a small satisfied smile curving her lips. She liked telling him what to do. His daring minx liked the control. It was evident in the heady glow in her amber irises, the lift of her chin, the way her shoulders rolled back.

Felicity was in command. He would be a fool to think otherwise.

And when she slowly crooked her finger, he obeyed, went to her without hesitation.

She reached for him, but he intercepted her hand. Brought it to his lips, skimmed kisses over her knuckles. If she touched him, he’d lose all ability to form rational thought.

“How is your back?” He let out a slow breath, the rage from earlier trying its damnedest to resurface. And then his eyebrows shot up. “And God, your ankle?” Some of the lust roughening his tone cleared, and he held her hand out wide, his gaze flitting over her head-to-toe. “Are you sure you are well enough for this?”

Her lips twitched, one corner tugging up. The right side. It was always the right side.

“Nothing but a bruise,” she said, soft laughter lacing her tone. “But, Ash? The way I want you, I could be covered in bruises, and I wouldn’t give a bloody fig. So, there is no way I am letting a small measly one get in the way of us . And I told you back at the grove, my ankle is fine. Doesn’t even hurt in the slightest any longer.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “If it would ease your mind, you can check every inch of me with your hands to be sure.”

His smile flashed. Saucy minx.

But his amusement disappeared on a groan when her palms landed on his chest, trailing unhurriedly in the most torturous of explorations.

Her lips parted, short and stuttered breaths puffing past them. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “Or perhaps I could check every inch of you.”

He hissed out a breath as her fingers traced over the ridges of his upper body and then skimmed down the small dip between the muscles in his stomach. His skin quivered, his blood growing thick and heavy.

“It is unjust how delicious your body is,” she murmured.

He couldn’t help it. He preened. He was three-and-forty, after all, not a young buck. But his work with his horses and swims in the channel kept him lean and fit.

Her touch on his skin, the awe slackening her jaw—they were heady, hazardous. No one had ever looked at him thus—more than want, more than desire. Reverence. His heart threw itself against his chest.

Right there with you, mate. I long for her desperately, too. Enjoy tonight, because she is not for us.

“Perhaps we should discuss this first,” he said quickly, his voice strangled. “The implications of what we are about to do.”

Before he lost all semblance of control, they should discuss what this night meant. That it was one night. That they could have this, but they couldn’t have more.

She is not for us.