Page 9 of Her Duke’s Second Chance (Regency Second Chances #1)

CHAPTER 9

R obert ran a hand across his face and slowly climbed the stairs to his chambers, trying to ignore the intense ache in his groin.

He had no idea what had come over him. He had moved so rapidly from teasing her to wanting her, needing to touch her face and her hair, to feel her body pressed into his, to taste her mouth and explore. All he could see was Georgiana, her bright blue eyes searching his face, her plump, pink mouth pulling him towards her like a drawstring. He had been helpless under the force of his desire.

He had thought that she wanted him too but now wondered if she had merely become frozen in place, not knowing what to do. He could still feel the sting of her nails on his biceps.

Had she tried to tell me to stop, but I, ever the oaf, ignored her silent plea?

Despite his misgivings, he could not shake her intoxicating scent. The soft, soapy lavender that emanated from her dewy skin, the jasmine scent of her hair, and the fragrant heady scent that radiated from her being had been intoxicating.

He was enraptured by the force of her creamy breasts against his chest, barely visible beneath the low vee of her nightgown. He had wanted nothing more than to tear off his shirt, spread open her nightgown, and feel her heaving breasts upon his chest.

His body was aflame with desire. He wanted so much more of her.

First thing tomorrow, I am getting rid of that damn clock.

He staggered into his bed chamber and slammed the door behind him, leaning against it and breathing hard.

He placed his plans on top of the boudoir before picking up the lamp and moving its glowing flame to brighten the bedside table. A fire had been lit, and his bed was already turned down. A tub of steaming water sat enticingly alongside the fireplace, his soap and shaving kit laid out on a stool next to it. A small bell also rested on the stool to enable him to summon his valet.

He shook his head, beginning to strip off his clothes. He had spent a lot of time on the road, alone, and was perfectly capable of shaving himself and washing his own body.

He stepped into the tub with a sigh of pleasure, sinking into the warm water and letting it wash over his head. He stayed under, holding his breath for as long as he could before breaking the surface with an explosive breath.

He stared down at himself, nettled that he was still quite hard. Moreover, despite his plunge in the water, he still retained the scent of Georgiana.

With a huff, he took hold of himself, squeezing tightly. He closed his eyes and reclined in the tub, stroking his rigid member as his mind traveled of its own volition to the long, tense night they had spent together at the inn.

He had barely slept, having her so near, yet so far. She had been a restless sleeper, turning and pressing into him, her bottom pushing against his thigh, and her foot trailing across his own as he tried in vain to ignore the need that continued to grow inside of him.

It had been all he could do not to turn around and take her.

He envisioned that he had turned to his side, facing her sleeping body, and pulled her tight against him, her thin cotton nightgown a flimsy barrier.

He saw his hand rope around her waist, splaying his fingers across her taut, white stomach, tracing the hills and valleys of her hips and navel before rising upward until his hand cupped her plump breasts. He watched as he pulled up her gown and buried his face between her bare breasts.

His erection pulsed excitedly in response to his fantasy, and he stroked faster. He arched his hips, imagining that he was pressing into her wetness, his hands bracketing her hips and lifting her onto her knees, positioning her so that he could sink into her from behind.

He exhaled deeply as his hand moved faster and faster, and he longingly grunted her name.

He imagined her long dark hair brushing against his chest, tickling him like the water that lapped against him. He pictured her hand reaching back to hold his hip, urging him to fill her and bring her to her final rapture.

He turned abruptly onto his side, the water splashing from the lip of the tub as he frantically gripped and stroked himself into a frenzy. A deep, shaking moan escaped his lips as his engorged rod pulsed his seed into the warm water, his hips canting as he imagined releasing into her tight warmth.

He groaned, stretching out in the tub, his whole body finally slack and satiated.

“I am in trouble,” he muttered.

He blinked up at the ceiling, studying the swiftly moving shadows caused by the crackling firelight.

After only one day alone in that room with Georgiana, he had become besotted. He shook his head ruefully, unable to understand how it had happened. After Angela’s death, he had vowed not to get close to anyone.

To treat marriage like the contract it was a way to birth legitimate heirs, and that was all.

It was a matter of supreme irony to him that, after one unremarkable year, not only was he pining for Georgiana, but there had been no progress to propagate an heir.

Robert laughed dolefully, shaking his head at his present conundrum.

“Man proposes, God disposes,” he murmured with resignation.

He finished his bath and slipped under his soft, warm bedcovers, glad to be back in his own home, with his own pristine sheets and comfortable bed.

It had been a year since he had slept in his bed, but it was clear that the staff were conscientious about keeping his space clean.

He thought back to his encounter with Georgiana in the library, meticulously reviewing each interaction. She had initially seemed angry to see him, and he could have sworn that she was actively trying to provoke him. With a sigh, he realized he did not know her well enough to be certain.

The best thing for me to do is stay far away from her. For now.

Georgiana realized that she was still holding the empty carafe, and she was still thirsty. In fact, her throat felt drier than it had ever been. She turned and continued walking to the kitchen, hoping that she would not meet anyone on her way. Her skin felt hot and prickly, and her nipples were very sensitive to the caress of her flimsy nightgown.

Anyone who sees me now would know exactly what I was doing. What was I doing? How did that happen?

As she approached the kitchen she heard voices and realized that the servants were still awake. She frowned, wondering why when it was already past midnight.

Shuffling her feet so they would not hear her approaching, she entered the room to find the housekeeper, the chef, and the butler seated around the kitchen table drinking coffee.

“Apologies for disturbing you,” she said holding up her carafe, “I was thirsty.”

The butler immediately hurried towards her and took the carafe from her hands. “Of course, my lady. Let me fetch it for you. Would you like some ice as well?”

She shook her head. “No, no. Just the water is fine. It is a rather brisk night.” She pulled her robe more tightly around her, hoping that the butler had not noticed that her skin was flushed.

“Indeed, my lady,” the butler murmured as he poured some water from the pot.

“Would you like some tea to help you sleep?” the chef asked.

Georgiana hesitated at the chef’s offer. After what had happened with Robert, she was not at all sure that she could settle down enough to sleep. “That might be a good idea.”

The chef nodded and immediately went to work, shuffling through the ingredients before filling the kettle with water. The butler handed her the carafe, and she nodded her thanks before leaving the kitchen.

She wandered down the halls, nodding to the footmen and urging them to go to bed.

She had not realized how late her household stayed up. Most nights she retired to her chambers after dinner and read a few poems before going to sleep.

She had no reason to leave her rooms at night. Now, she made a note to address all the servants and make sure that they were getting enough sleep. She knew for a fact that the household was up by five in the morning to receive the milkmaids, get the water boiling, and begin preparing breakfast.

Of course, with only her living in the house, there was not much to do. She had always assumed that the staff retired after she shut her bedchamber door.

I was obviously wrong in my na?ve assumption.

Her mind wandered back to her own family. Since money was always tight they only possessed a skeleton staff that was nevertheless expected to perform all the duties required of a full household staff.

She had first-hand knowledge of how exhausting and demoralizing such a schedule could be. When she had first arrived at the duke’s townhouse, she had made an effort to learn everyone’s names but had not familiarized herself with their routines.

She reached the second-floor landing and hesitated. Her bedchamber was to the east while the master was to the west. She had spent the first night in the master suite, but after Robert had left, she had moved her things to the east wing.

Turning west, she slowly walked down the corridor until she was standing in front of Robert’s door. She paused, staring at the door and wondering why she had stopped.

Pressing her ear to the door, she listened intently and heard a grunt and a splash.

“Georgiana.”

If it had not been so quiet and still in the house, she would have missed it, but she was certain she had heard Robert moan her name.

She gasped, jerked back in shock, and padded quickly down the corridor, hoping Robert had not heard her.

She entered her bed chamber and locked the door behind her quietly, breathing hard.

“Water,” she croaked, carrying the carafe over to her nightstand. She poured herself a full glass of water and gulped it down before sitting on the bed with a sigh and staring off into the distance.

Her mind wandered towards their brief interlude in the library as she ruminated over what she might have done differently.

Robert was the last person she had expected to see. Her surprise at his presence had quickly become overshadowed by irritation at his failure to let her know that he was home. Georgiana’s skin tingled and she licked her lips at the memory of their unexpected kiss. It had been incredible, passionate, and sensual. Her fingers curled together as she recalled the softness of his hair and the firmness of his grip on her waist.

Why did he stop so suddenly? Was it something I did?

With a sigh, she removed her robe, slipped into bed, and stared at the dancing shadows on the ceiling.

Her palms itched to stroke his chest and trace the sculpted muscles that lay beneath his skin. She longed to nestle her head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent as his strong hands pulled her into him, against his eager hardness.

“For God’s sake, Georgiana!” She released an exasperated sigh and shook her head, wondering where her musings were coming from.

A soft knock on the door announced the maid, who had brought her a pot of tea. Georgiana told the girl to leave it on the bedside table.

Hopefully, I will sleep soundly tonight, and by morning’s light, all of this will be a dim memory.