Page 16 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)

Chapter

Sixteen

C hristian reached down and kissed Cordelia hard. Already it had been several hours since he’d tasted her last and that was too long.

His mouth slanted over hers with bruising force, all tenderness forgotten in the heat that flared between them. His hands tangled in her hair, tugging gently as he devoured her lips, his tongue sweeping against hers in a kiss that made his thoughts scatter.

He came over her on the bed.

They bounced slightly with the motion, and he knew there was no turning back. There was very little between them as it was, and the feel of her willing and as greedy for him as he was for her was all the encouragement he needed.

Her shift, all but transparent and whisper-light, offered no mystery to the shape of her luscious body.

Damn he wanted her, had thought of nothing else all evening. The sight of her across from him at dinner had left him more ravenous than he had been before the meal.

He was besotted and there was no denying that.

Her fingers spiked into his hair, and he saw the same burning need simmering in her blue eyes. Just as he reached for the hem of her gown, the door handle rattled along with a light knock.

They froze.

“Cordelia, are you asleep?”

Christian recognized the voice of the duchess and without thought he jumped from the bed, landing on the floor and crawling under the large wooden frame, hiding himself from view.

He heard Cordelia shuffle about on the bed, before light spilled into the room from the passage and the duchess entered, coming in. “I wanted to check on you before you retired. It is not like you to retire early, and I was concerned.”

“All is well, Rosalind, I’m merely in bed as I said I would be. There is no reason to check on me. I’m far from a child.”

Christian eased farther away from the edge of the bed when the duchess moved closer. He prayed his being here would remain unknown, the panic that assailed him at being caught in such a compromising position was not to be borne. Nor was it the act of a gentleman.

Cordelia deserved so much better than his actions had bestowed so far.

“I know, dearest, but I cannot help myself. You know I worry for you all.”

He heard Cordelia sigh. “I know, and we’re all thankful for you, but truly, there is no need to check on me again. I was almost asleep,” she lied.

Christian raised his brows at her fib before the duchess turned about and started toward the door.

“In any case, ring for your maid and myself if you need anything. Now, I must return downstairs. I believe Isabella is far from pleased to be here and from what I can gather, she dislikes Miss Millers.”

“I do not blame Isabella on that score. I do not care for Miss Millers much myself.”

The duchess wished Cordelia goodnight and left, leaving them alone. After what felt like several minutes, Cordelia bent over the side of the bed and looked at him from above.

“You may come out now, my sister is gone.”

He crawled out from under the bed, ignoring the dust that settled on his superfine coat. “You do not like Miss Millers?” He was curious and wondered at the reason.

“No I do not.” Cordelia reached for him, pulling him close by his waistcoat. “I think she likes you and that raises my hackles. For I do not share, Your Grace.”

He believed as much, yet hearing it only solidified the reasons more as to why they did not suit.

What if he could not remain faithful? What if the lifestyle he had lived for so many years drew him back in and he broke Cordelia’s heart?

Or the heart of any woman whom he married. He could not be so cruel.

No, it was best that he did not marry at all until he was certain of his character.

“Now, where were we?” She reached for him, but he pulled free of her hold.

“You were going to bed, and I am returning downstairs, as a good host should. I put your reputation at risk this evening, and I should not have. I will see you at breakfast.” He moved toward the door and felt Cordelia’s shocked gaze burning along his back.

“You’re leaving? Truly?”

He stood at the door, steeling himself to be strong, to deny what he wanted most.

Her.

“Goodnight, Cordelia.” He left, closing the door behind him without looking back, for if he did, his steps would have halted on the threshold.