Page 24 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)

Chapter

Twenty-Four

T he house party thankfully drew to a close the following day and with the duke by her side, they dutifully waved farewell to the last of the departing guests, including Jane who was being escorted back to London by Cordelia’s sister Rosalind.

With Christian by her side, she could not deny how her heart quickened, especially after last night when they had finally consummated the marriage.

Now she was a duchess not only in name.

“Well, then, I believe that was a successful event.” Christian offered Cordelia his arm and they turned to start back into the house.

“Luncheon is about to be served. Are you joining me today?” Yesterday he had gone hunting and there were very few guests who were at home for the midday meal.

“I shall have a tray brought into my office. There are some ledgers I need to go over with my steward before we return to town, but I will join you for dinner.”

Cordelia fought not to let the disappointment of not dining with him alarm her.

It was but one meal, that did not mean anything untoward.

She really needed to forget her silly thoughts regarding Christian and his warning to her on their wedding day.

So far he’d been the epitome of what a husband ought to be and she could not see him hurting her.

He would not be so cruel.

“Very well,” she said. “I shall look forward to dining with you tonight.” She reached up to kiss him, but he was already striding toward the library, busy with his ducal duties.

Cordelia went about her day after luncheon.

She had a meeting with the housekeeper, looked over the house and became better acquainted with its layout and who worked in what departments.

She inspected the kitchens and even started organising the little room on the first floor that was allocated as the duchess’s office.

The room, although not as grand as Christian’s downstairs, had two walls with mahogany bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling and a desk that sat before a low-set window, giving her magnificent views over the side gardens.

However, her hope to dine with Christian was short lived after she received a message from one of their footmen that the duke had gone out onto the lands with his steward and wouldn’t be back for dinner.

Nor did he come to her chamber that evening.

In fact, when Cordelia startled awake in the gray hush of morning, she realized she had never once heard him return.

Slipping from her bed, she padded softly across the Aubusson rug, her bare feet chilled by the morning air, and paused at their adjoining door.

With a tentative breath, she eased it open and peered into his room.

The relief that ran through her at seeing him asleep told her more than anything that she cared for the duke…

possibly more than care, had fallen in love with him.

And today they were to travel back to London themselves, return to the Season and commence their life as the new Duke and Duchess of Walpole.

Not wishing to wake him, she rang for her maid and went about her morning ablutions, and it wasn’t long before they were seated in the carriage, wheels rolling toward London, the great ducal estate fading into the haze of trees, and nothing but the long, graveled road before them.

Cordelia sat opposite Christian, a small traveling desk balanced on her lap. She bent over the parchment, quill scratching steadily as she composed letters of thanks to her sisters. They had made the journey to witness her marriage, and though her hand was steady, her thoughts kept drifting.

She sensed Christian’s gaze before she lifted her head. That curious awareness—how one always knew when eyes lingered, and she was not wrong in her suspicion. Christian watched her with an expression she could not quite decipher.

“What is it?” she asked, her question edged with half a laugh.

He did not answer at once, instead his mouth curved into a slow, deliberate smirk, the sort of expression that teased more than it revealed.

“Tell me?” she repeated, smiling now despite herself.

He shook his head but leaned forward. With a boldness that made her breath catch, he removed the desk from her lap and placed it tidily on the seat beside her.

“I am only admiring you,” he said.

Cordelia’s heart thumped against her stays. Such words, spoken so flippantly, carried a weight she had not prepared for. After all, he had warned her their marriage would be a union without love, possibly one without loyalty too.

She had taken that warning to heart, guarding herself against her foolish dreams. Yet now, here he was, undoing her every defense with little more than a smile and a careless quip.

She looked down at her hands, suddenly restless.

The truth, if she admitted it to herself, was undeniable.

Already she sought him out everywhere. Already she wanted to be near him—not simply as a wife ought, but with a hunger that frightened her a little.

She was certain it was love that she felt for this man.

And if he did not return it? If he never could feel more than benign friendship toward his wife? The thought was unbearable.

He reached across and caught her hand. His fingers were warm and with a gentle tug, he drew her toward him until she half-toppled onto his side of the carriage.

She laughed in surprise, bracing herself against his chest. “Christian! What are you about? We are in a carriage, for heaven’s sake.”

He gave her a look that mingled amusement with challenge. “And why should that prevent me? Are you suggesting nothing can be done in a carriage?” He smirked and there was wickedness in his gaze. “My, my, duchess, how innocent and untutored you are.”

Expectation thrummed between them, and the air seemed to thicken with a charged tension.

She fought to push away the realization and hurt that Christian had interactions with other woman in carriages to know such things.

This was not the time to be thinking of the past. She needed to grasp the future with both hands and make it the best she could.

“What are you suggesting?” She pressed against him, showing him without words that was she was more than willing to find out what it was that couples could do in a carriage while it was moving.

Hunger burned in his gaze, and before she could ask him again, he wrenched her onto his lap.

She straddled his legs, placed her hands on his shoulders and grinned. “Will not the driver and servants hear? What if they see us through the window?”

Christian reached out and quickly untied the curtains. They lowered, little dust particles floating in the air, but leaving them in a discreet, shadowed space.

“The servant's carriage is following behind, and the driver will not hear. Not if you are not loud.”

Heat kissed her cheeks. “You are scandalous, but there isn't very much room. Are you certain this is even possible?” She wiggled closer to him, not wanting to slip off onto the floor.

He chuckled, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against her chest. “Oh, it's possible, and you're about to find out how.” He reached between them, bundling up her dress and pushing it out of the way.

Moisture pooled between her legs at his eagerness, and a sweet, needy ache soon followed. He kissed with soft, beckoning brushes of his lips against hers, and it was enough to make her head spin.

“Show me, then.”

He growled. His fingers brushed against her mons, rolling across her aching flesh and teasing her relentlessly.

“Christian, I…” She closed her eyes, lost in his touch.

She could feel herself coiling tighter, closer to the pinnacle he had brought her to the night they had bathed together in his room.

Almost as if they could not get enough of each other. Could not sate the desire each evoked, no matter how much they were alone.

“I want you so much.” He ripped his falls open and guided his manhood into her without hesitation. He was so large, hard and rigid, filling her, sating her every desire. He clasped her hips, his fingers guiding her into a rhythm that suited them both.

She watched him watch her. Observed his face as it contorted into pleasure, desperation and so much more…

Did he love her? Was he falling in love with her?

Please make it so.

Incessantly desperate for him too, she was soon close to shattering in his arms. She rolled her hips, used the cushioned seat to help guide them to release.

“Cordelia,” he groaned. “Make me come.”

She kissed him hard, wrapped her arms about his neck and pushed for that sweet pinnacle only Christian could give her.

Before she could catch her breath, she spiraled over the cliff into an abyss of pleasure, taking him with her.

He cradled her as she undulated on his manhood, wringing every last tremor of pleasure.

When at last the quiet clatter of wheels reclaimed her consciousness, Cordelia collapsed against his shoulder with a laugh that was half astonishment, half reprieve. She gathered her skirts and slipped off his lap, straightened her gown, and willed her cheeks to cool.

Christian reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek, as though he could not help but touch her again, the gesture absentminded yet deeply intimate.

“Well,” he said after a long pause, his voice low with amusement. “Now you know what two people may accomplish in a carriage.”

Cordelia turned and met his eyes. They glimmered with mischief. “I shall never look at an equipage the same way again,” she said, attempting solemnity and failing miserably.

He wiggled his brows in mock conspiracy. “And if you are with me, duchess, you would do well to remain on your guard.”

She chuckled and moved back to her seat, wanting to watch him while she wrote her letters. To drink in the sight of her handsome, wicked husband. Yet beneath her bliss stirred unease. She wanted him—not merely like this—but something much more meaningful.

Cordelia wanted his heart, his faithfulness, and until he admitted the same, she feared she would never rest easy.