Page 19 of Love, the Duke (Say I Do #3)
C HAPTER 19
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Hide in a conspicuous place so as to watch his every move.
Hurst knew when Ophelia had awakened, though neither of them made a sound. Maybe she thought he was still asleep and didn’t want to disturb him. She slowly and carefully turned to her other side and away from him. That was all right. The way the sheet pulled away from her body gave him a good view of her lovely back and softly rounded shoulders he hadn’t seen last night. She was beautifully shaped with the way the curve of her waist dipped in and the slight rise of her shapely hip.
How he felt about her was more than just realizing she filled something inside him that had felt empty most of his life, but no doubt that was a big part of his deep feelings for her. With her snuggled by his side last night, it was the best sleep he’d had in longer than he could remember. He’d found a peace that he didn’t even know he was looking for. As he stared at her, heat surged through his veins, inflaming his need to feel her beneath him once again.
She was the most invigorating lady he’d ever known, showing him something different about herself every time they saw each other. He couldn’t wait to learn more and fall more deeply in love with her each day that passed. Love? Yes, that is what his feelings for her were. Abiding love.
Hurst had been awake since the sun came up and had found its way straight into his eyes through the tiniest of slits where the draperies hadn’t been tightly closed. He chalked it up to his good luck it happened. Had it not, he wouldn’t have had time to consider his feelings for Ophelia and look at her without her being aware.
He’d studied every detail of her lovely face before she’d turned away. The pale complexion and the shape of her nose. The whisper of her dark, thick eyelashes as they occasionally fluttered in sleep. Though they were closed, she had the most beautiful eyes, the nicest skin, and smelled so good he wanted her near all the time.
Her tranquil face in sleep had reflected everything he loved about her. Courage and determination that had no boundary. Spirit and loyalty with limitless desire. He was lucky fate had brought them together after he’d rejected her brother’s appeal to accept her as his wife.
Hurst couldn’t believe how sure he was that he loved Ophelia with his whole being. A smile came to his face. She had been worth the wait, worth every moment of aggravation she gave him, and there had been plenty of that. And he had no doubts it would continue throughout their lives together. When she was passionate about something, she gave it her all.
Without shyness or restraint, she’d been eager to participate when he was showing her the delights enjoyed between a man and woman, husband and wife. She made him feel good beyond reason. Even now, he could hardly keep his hands off her while he waited for her to come fully awake. He didn’t want to pounce on her the moment she’d awakened, but the possibility of doing just that made him smile again.
To their delight, he intended to focus and enjoy loving her again before the day started. Once they were downstairs, he’d have to shift his focus to keeping his promise and helping her find the chalice.
Hurst had already sent a runner from Bow Street to see what he could find out in Wickenhamden. Runners knew how to question people without raising suspicion, but he wasn’t sure he could make Ophelia believe that so he would wait to see what, if anything, the man discovered before he mentioned it to her. He’d had drawings of the chalice made from his cousin’s aunt Maudine’s drawing of the cup. They were being shown to shopkeepers all over Town. Ophelia had thought that was futile, putting all her flowers in one basket—a titled man’s bookshelf. She was so fixed on that; she seemed to push aside other ideas that might help. He also had a couple of men scouring the rumor mill in London’s underworld to see if anyone had been trying to sell or buy religious objects recently. He intended to find that chalice even if he had to turn all of England upside down.
He didn’t move but asked her, “What are you thinking about while staring at the wall?”
“That it’s a very lovely wall,” she said with a hint of amusement in her tone.
Hurst grunted. “I don’t believe you.”
She turned toward him smiling, propping herself up on one arm and holding the sheet in front of her breasts with the other.
“I didn’t mean to wake you when I turned over.”
“You didn’t.” Hurst reached out and brushed her lush hair to her back and caressed her shoulder. “I’ve been awake awhile. So, what were you thinking about while you were lying there so still?”
“That poets don’t do the marriage bed justice when they write their romantic verse.”
“Poets?” Hurst scoffed a laugh. “I could have told you that. I haven’t read much poetry, and none in recent years, but I would have to agree with you. They like to believe they inspire, entertain, or lull unsuspecting souls into the throes of despair or unrequited love, and then they preen about it.”
Her slightly arched brows furrowed easily, but beautifully, at his unhidden disdain. “Nevertheless, it is usually beautifully written. Most gentlemen do indulge in the art of the written word. Why don’t you read poetry?”
“That’s a long story best told by Fredericka. It has more to do with Wyatt than me or Rick, but we agree with his belief it’s not necessary to learn to recite it.”
“Did he do anything bad to a poet?”
“No. Wyatt is as honorable as men come. Only something he regretted not doing when he was a boy.”
“And what about you? Are there things you regretted not doing when you were a boy?”
Hurst could see that Ophelia was genuinely interested in wanting to know more about him. But there were some things he simply didn’t want her to know. “More things I regret doing for sure. Perhaps I should have been more understanding of my father’s plight. Maybe he wanted a better life for us and tried to change his ways.”
“That seems a kind way to look at a remembrance of your father.”
Her comment struck something deep inside him that he wasn’t ready to explore: forgiveness.
“For gentlemen or ladies, boys or girls, I do know that it is always best to be honorable. I need to tell you something I should have told you before we married. When it first happened.”
Her tone was serious and caused a shrug of worry to pass through him. “What’s that?”
“I’m sorry I slapped you that day at my house.”
Was that all that was bothering her? He didn’t regret being so close to her that day, helping her, and touching her.
Hurst gave a curious expression and placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her head back. “When was that? I don’t remember it.”
She smiled at him. “You are deliberately not being truthful. There was no cause for it other than my own frustration with myself. I regret that I never properly apologized. I should have and wanted you to know.”
With short kisses, he teased her lips lightly. Speaking in a ragged voice, he answered, “I am being truthful.” Or maybe it was a justified fib. It really didn’t matter. Why should she worry about that when he had enjoyed every moment of helping her wiggle out of the chest?
“Listen to me,” he said while he continued to rain kisses on her face. “A gentleman always forgives and forgets when it comes to a lady—especially his lady wife.”
She looked sweetly into his eyes. “Thank you for being so kind to me, Hurst. About everything.”
He shrugged. “What else were you thinking about while you were looking at the lovely wall?”
“The chalice and where it could be is always on my mind, but I promised not to talk about that until morning.”
A deep and masculine chuckle rose from his throat as he kissed the top of her nose. “It is morning, my darling.”
She quickly looked around. “Oh. It would be dark in here if not for the lamps burning.”
“We were busy last night, and I failed to get up to put them out as I should have. There is a slice of daylight right there.” He pointed to the offending drapery that had awakened him.
Ophelia moved as if she planned to scramble off the bed, but he circled her in his arms.
“Wait, wait.” Being in bed with her was too sweet to abandon so soon. “What are you doing?”
“I need to wash, dress, and get downstairs. We may already have a note from the dowager with an answer from her friend about who the man is that collects religious things.”
Hurst glanced at the clock on the dressing table. “It is not past noonday. There hasn’t been time for her to have an answer from anyone.”
Ophelia moistened her lips and in a voice that was almost a whisper said, “But I want to be ready when we do hear from her.”
“So do I.” He pulled her closer and kissed her on the mouth, brushing her hair away from her cheek. “We will both be ready. But we must do this the dowager’s way. If the man is a possible suspect, we don’t want to scare him into hiding it.”
“I know, but I’m anxious to hear from her.”
“ We , Ophelia. We are in this together. When we get belowstairs, if there is no answer, we’ll go for a walk in the park to help pass the time.”
She pursed her lips for a moment. “I really don’t think we should leave the house today but wait here.”
“And I heard there was going to be a fair in Hyde Park. I think you will enjoy the sights, and it will give you something to do while you wait.”
“That sounds lovely on any day but today.”
“You know we may not hear until tomorrow. Or the next day. Her friend with the Insightful Ladies of London Society may not answer right away. A thousand different things could happen. Waiting around the house will be torture for you. We need to do something.”
Hurst thought about telling Ophelia everything he was doing to search for the vessel but decided to wait. Right now, he wanted her thinking about him. “Come closer and let me hold you,” he said gently. “Don’t give me that look that means you don’t agree with me.” His eyes swept softly up and down her face.
She nestled into the crook of his neck, and he felt the fringe of her lashes batting against his skin. He stroked her back and the sides of her breasts while she cupped his nape, letting her fingers play in his hair. They lay snuggled together, relaxed and enjoying the languorous warmth and pleasure of being in each other’s arms.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” he said, and then kissed the top of her head.
Curiosity settled on her delicate features as she skimmed her hand along his chest and shoulders. “What’s that?”
“Look into my eyes,” he said huskily. “I want you to see and know what I am saying is true.”
She lifted her head and did as he’d asked.
He took his time, keeping his gaze on hers. “I love you, Ophelia, and I am so glad you are mine.”
He felt her body tense and heard her inhaled raspy breath of air.
“Are you shocked?” he asked.
“Yes, but.” She hesitated. “I think I love you too.”
Hurst was quite sure his heart did somersaults in his chest. His first thought was to kiss her. Second was to ask why she only thought she loved him and didn’t know for sure. But he didn’t want to rush her. Hearing her say the words made him feel so damn good he could only ask, “What makes you think that?”
“I love being with you. I want to see you and be with you even when you frustrate me at most every turn. I never stay angry with you as I would like to at times. I forgive you quickly for raising your voice when you don’t even know you are doing it. You make me smile and force me to think about what I’m doing even when I don’t want to. And you made me feel things I didn’t know we had been created to experience.”
A deep rush of desire pushed through him. Hurst wanted to make love to her so badly right then he had to force himself not to lay her back on the bed and have his way with her while he pleasured them both.
But she kept talking when all he wanted to do was kiss her. “You made me start thinking about the possibility of my feelings for you when we talked about your sporting team.”
His breath sucked in with a hiss and he leaned away from her, not believing she’d said what she said. Would she forever raise his ire and his desire? “What the hell—do they have to do with your feelings for me?” he asked with an expression that he felt sure was somewhere between a frown and a grin. “A bunch of strong, damn good-looking men.”
“Yes. I was serious when I told you they were all handsome like you and with magnificent physical attributes to recommend them as do you.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m not likely to forget hearing you say that nor believing you meant it.”
She placed her hand on his cheek and gave him a quirky smile. “But I realized none of them gave me the fluttering in my chest, the tightening in my stomach that you do. None of them stole my breath at the sight of them or made me think I wanted to be with them as I am with you right now. You are the only one that I have pined for. Do you think that could be what true love is?”
Her honesty made him swallow hard. He sensed she was filled with heat, hunger, and desire for him. And just like that, all he could think of was Ophelia. He had reached that place in his mind where nothing mattered but them being together. Everything else ceased to exist. Yes. She loved him and he wanted to feel and taste every inch of her sweet-smelling skin.
Hurst smiled. “Since you don’t know for sure, let’s see if we can find the answer between the two of us.”
With one fluid motion, his lips came down on hers eagerly and impatiently as he rolled her onto her back and covered her body. Her hands hooked behind his head, a blast of white-hot arousal catching hold of his body. Hurst tasted and explored, running his tongue through her mouth before trailing kisses across her cheek to nuzzle the warm soft area around her ear. His hunger for her grew as he brushed his lips down her neck to her chest, her breasts, and back up again.
She swept her tongue through his mouth returning what he gave—a mutual pleasure that demanded more. It was beautiful being with her, teasing and satisfying her. Hurst didn’t intend to stop making love to her until he’d dragged every bit of the breath from their lungs.