Page 90 of Second Duke's the Charm

“As much as I’d like his company, I don’t see how I’d be able to slip away from him to meet Stockdale without arousing suspicion. I don’t want him thinking I’m breaking our agreement and meeting another man. It would be better if he wasn’t there.”

A stab of guilt flashed through her at the thought of excluding Justin, but it had to be done. She would make it up to him some other time.

“In that case, we’ll share a carriage. Unless you prefer to take a boat down the Thames from Whitehall?”

Tess shook her head. “No. It’s always so windy on the river, even though it’s faster. I’ll call for you both at eight on Saturday.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Tess descended the stairs for breakfast on Saturday morning eager to encounter Justin. True to his word, he hadn’t visited her chamber while she was “indisposed,” and she’d barely seen him over the past few days. He’d spent a great deal of time at his offices, and at his club, presumably dealing with business matters and the myriad other things requiring a new duke’s attention.

Her cheeks heated as she recalled the one time his cool, polite façade had cracked. It had happened last night. Unable to sleep, seized by a sudden craving for the syrup Justin had gifted her, Tess had tiptoed down the stairs, heading for the pantry. It had been too late to rouse the servants, so she’d decided to make an impromptu visit to the kitchens herself.

She’d just replaced the stopper when Justin entered through the back door from the stables. He turned in surprise, presumably thinking she was a servant, or an intruder, but stilled when he saw it was her.

“Tess!”

Tess tried to still her pounding heart. His hair wasslightly damp, thanks to the late-night drizzle, and droplets of water glimmered on the shoulders of his coat in the light from her solitary candle. His cheeks were dark with a faint shadow of stubble, and her fingers itched to touch him.

“I was… err… just getting a little snack.” She gestured guiltily toward the stoneware flagon of syrup.

His gaze barely flicked to the bottle before it returned to her, and her stomach tightened as she realized what she was wearing. Knowing he wouldn’t be visiting her rooms, she’d donned her plainest cotton chemise, but from the look on his face she might as well have been wearing one of the beautiful silk nightgowns she’d bought from Madame Lefèvre.

His gray gaze roamed hungrily over her, lingering on the shadowed V of her breasts, then back up to her mouth.

Her heart started to pound. Self-conscious, she licked her lower lip, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Tess,” he said again, more a groan this time. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Tess cast around for something sensible to say. She gestured at the maple syrup.

“It’s really quite addictive, you know… the sweetness.”

Ugh, she was a stammering wreck.

He started toward her, a silent prowl. She backed up until her bottom bumped the huge wooden table in the center of the room. A copper jelly mold rattled as he stepped in close, caging her with his body, and her pulse skittered at the waft of cool night air and cedar-scented man he brought with him.

“Addictive,” he growled. “Sweet.” He sounded almost accusing.

He leaned closer.

Tess gripped the edge of the table, determined to resist the temptation to slip her hands inside his coat.

And then he was kissing her. His big hand caught the back of her head, cradling her skull, and desire leapt between them. He took her mouth hungrily, as though starved for her taste, and Tess answered in kind, loving his roughness, his urgency.

But just as she raised her hand to cup his cheek, he pulled back with an anguished groan.

“I’m sorry… I know it’s your time of the month… I promised to leave you alone…” His voice was low, gravelly. “But… I… You…” He made a helpless gesture between them, as if that explained everything. “I forgot myself.”

They were both breathing hard. Tess pressed her fingers to her throbbing lips, desperate to tell him to keep on kissing her anyway, but instead he took a decisive step back.

“I’ll bid you good night.”

And then he was gone. Tess heard him taking the stairs two at a time, almost as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her, but a small, feminine smile curved her mouth. He wanted her. Even in her most unattractive nightgown, he could barely keep his hands from her.

She considered following him, imagined knocking on his door with an offer to ease him with her hands or her mouth. But what shereallywanted was for him to hold her in his arms while they slept, as he’d done that first night they’d been together.

To love her, not just make love to her.