Page 34 of Dukes All Night Long

Jenny

London, England

J enny Armstrong swept across the Ashford ballroom, her emerald silk gown rustling with each step. The evening had dragged on interminably with tedious conversations about the weather or men who eyed her like a prized stallion.

But it was all worth it for the chance to be near him.

Lord Finch Reid, the second son of the Duke of Bedford, stood near the terrace doors, devastatingly handsome in his black evening wear, dark hair catching the candlelight.

Their eyes met across the crowded room, and that familiar flutter sparked in her chest. It was the same anticipation that had consumed her thoughts for weeks since the first time he’d asked her to dance.

He inclined his head slightly. This barely perceptible gesture might have seemed polite to any onlooker. But Jenny recognized it for what it was. An invitation.

Her pulse quickened as she made her excuses to Lady Hartwell, claiming she needed air. The terrace doors beckoned, promising escape from the suffocating propriety within.

The cool night air kissed her heated skin as she stepped outside. Moonlight bathed the stone balustrade, casting everything in silver.

“Lady Jenny.” His voice, low and warm, sent shivers down her spine.

She turned to find Fin emerging from the shadows, his eyes dark with the same longing that had been building between them for three weeks now. Three weeks of stolen kisses.

“Lord Reid,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, close enough that the scent of him made her knees weak. “I have missed you.”

The terrace was empty save for them, the sounds of the ball muffled by the closed doors. Jenny’s heart pounded as he reached for her gloved hand, his thumb tracing circles on her palm through the silk.

“We continue to test our luck,” she whispered, though she made no move to leave.

“Yes,” he agreed, cupping her cheek. “We most certainly do.”

But he didn’t step away either. Instead, he drew closer until she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, until his breath heated her lips.

“Jenny,” he murmured. The way he uttered her name, like a promise, undid her completely.

When his mouth claimed hers, she forgot everything else. The ball, the ton, the expectations that governed her every waking moment. There was only Fin, his lips moving against hers with a reverence that made her soul sing.

His kiss was everything: gentle at first, then ravenous when she responded with equal fervor, her arms circling his neck. It was what she had come to crave.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.

“I promise I shall speak to my father,” he sighed. “So that I might do much more than kiss you.”

She flushed at his suggestive words, but she didn’t look away. Couldn’t look away. Not when he was gazing upon her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“Show me,” she whispered.

He went very still. “Jenny—”

“Please.” The word escaped before she could stop it, raw with longing. “I trust you.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t appear convinced. “I don’t think—”

She pressed her lips against his again, running her tongue along the seam until he opened for her. She kissed him with all of the need she felt since she’d first laid eyes on him. When he pulled her tight against him, she knew he felt it too.

The garden stretched below them, shadowed and private. Without breaking their kiss, he guided her toward the stone steps, down into the moonlit maze of hedgerows where they would be hidden from prying eyes.

Her back met the cool stone of a garden wall, ivy soft against her bare shoulders. Fin hovered over her throat, pressing kisses along the column of her neck while he fondled her hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her skin. “So perfect.”

Jenny’s head fell back as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear. Never had she felt so alive, so wanted. Her body hummed with new sensations. His every touch ignited a fire she hadn’t known existed. It was wanton and wrong, but she wanted him. Loved him.

When his hand skimmed up her leg beneath her skirts, she gasped, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, resting his hand on her garter. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

But she couldn’t. Not when her entire body yearned for his touch, not when she felt like she might die if he didn’t continue.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

He fingered the hem of her gown. Jenny bit her lip to stifle her moan as he explored the sensitive place between her legs.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, thumbing the small bundle of nerves that made her legs tremble. “Let me know how I make you feel.”

She moaned against his neck. The pleasure built slowly, exquisitely, until she was trembling against him, her breath coming in short gasps.

She felt something hard pressed into her as he rocked his body into hers, and she had to bury her face into his shoulder to muffle her cries, lest they be discovered.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough with his own desire. “Let go for me.”

Pleasure crashed through her in waves. She convulsed beneath his skilled fingers as she clung to him like an anchor in a storm.

When the tremors finally subsided, he held her close, pressing gentle kisses to her hair while she caught her breath.

“I never…” she whispered against his chest.

“Jenny,” he said, and something in his tone made her look up. His expression was serious. “I need you to know—”

Her breath caught. It was the moment she had waited for. That he would profess the same feelings she’d long felt. “Fin—”

The sound of voices from the terrace above made them both freeze. Footsteps on stone, growing closer.

“The garden is lovely in the moonlight,” said a woman. Lady Pemberton , Jenny realized with horror.

“We must go,” Fin whispered urgently, quickly straightening her skirts and putting space between them.

Jenny’s hands shook as she tried to repair her appearance, tucking stray curls back into place. Whatever he’d been about to say was lost, and she desperately wanted to hear it.

They slipped through the garden like shadows, taking separate paths back to the ballroom.

What had he meant to say? The question would torment her until they might speak again.

She could only hope they would have another chance soon. Another stolen moment where he might finish what he’d started to say.

To hear the words that would be the start of their future together.