Page 4 of Starlight and the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #5)

Shoreham Manor

Near Brighton, England

R ob absently gazed out the window as his carriage rolled past Brighton and the familiar patches of seacoast along the countryside. His heart beat a little faster, for Fiona’s home, Shoreham Manor, was not far from here.

Not that he had been counting the days, hours, or minutes until seeing her again.

But he had been.

The familiar house came into view and he edged forward, eager to see Fiona’s smiling face. Were they really going to do this? Hot, lustful, naked sex for a week?

Fiona, for all her brashness, was quite shy when it came to matters of the boudoir. Perhaps not shy, exactly, but in many ways ignorant of all that could go on between the sheets. Despite her streak of independence, she was also quite traditional.

She could be quite proper when she wanted to be.

His heart opened up when he saw her standing by the door, all smiles and bobbing, dark curls as she caught sight of his carriage and waved to him.

He waved in response, then eased back and emitted a groaning breath. “What are we doing to each other, Fiona?” he muttered.

This was the question he had asked himself repeatedly over the last three weeks, ever since she had proposed the idea. A thousand times he’d asked himself this question and never came up with answers.

He remained plagued by doubts. How could he spend a week in Fiona’s bed, explore her body with shocking intimacy, and then just leave her to marry someone else?

Only the vilest of rakehells would ever do such a thing, and he had never been a rake or such a cad of a man.

The simple answer was that he could not abandon her in this fashion.

But he was not going to say anything to Fiona just yet. She had to feel this impossibility for herself.

He hoped by the time their week was up and the Bromleighs’ house party guests began to arrive, she would understand their hearts, souls, and bodies were never meant to be apart.

He hopped down as soon as his driver drew the team to a halt in front of the rambling country house surrounded by an abundance of red roses and wildflowers.

It was everything a country house ought to be, old but well maintained, large but still possessing a quiet charm.

A cozy retreat that felt like heaven because this was where Fiona resided.

“How have you been, Lady Shoreham?” he asked, striding toward her. He always kept to formality whenever in the presence of others, even if it was only that of her butler, Simmons.

“I am excellent, Durham,” she replied, also addressing him with proper formality. “How did your Devonshire business go?”

“Smoothly. I finished faster than expected and hope you won’t mind my imposing on you a week early?”

Fiona had contrived this stupid charade that was not going to fool anyone on her staff, especially not Simmons or her capable housekeeper, Mrs. Harris. Nor would this contrived excuse ever fool Gawain, the Duke of Bromleigh, or his wife, Cherish, who owned the neighboring property, Northam Hall.

He did not know if they had opened their seaside house yet or were still in London. However, since their house party was only a week away, they would have to return here to open the house within the next day or two.

What would Fiona do if Cherish strolled over one morning and found him already ensconced here?

Well, that was Fiona’s problem. He was ready to marry her if her honor was ever placed in question.

She locked her arm in his and led him into the house. “Come onto the terrace with me while Mrs. Harris prepares your guest quarters. There’s a lovely breeze off the water. Simmons will bring up your bags. We’ll have time to share a lemonade before you head upstairs to freshen up.”

“That will be welcome,” he said, for his throat was dry. It wasn’t from the ride, for he had spent last night at a comfortable inn not far from here. It was located in one of those charming coastal villages only about four hours west of Brighton.

The weather this morning had been dry and beautiful, allowing him to make quick time in his travels. But the sight of Fiona, her dark curls in a jumble and her smile as dazzling as ever, had tightened his throat with an all-too-familiar longing.

She still had the exuberance of a girl approaching womanhood, and her body had not changed all that much in the twenty years since her wedding day.

She was perhaps a little fuller in the bosom and a touch broader in the hips, but still slender and full of vigor.

And that sweet face of hers, so lively and welcoming. Was there anyone prettier?

Mrs. Harris served them their lemonade and dutifully expressed that she was pleased to see him. They exchanged quick pleasantries before she scrambled off to finish her work.

“You have a good staff. They seem to be taking excellent care of you.”

“They are, and they like you, too. They think you are my nicest and politest guest.”

This came as no surprise, since he had been here often enough over the years, and was always on his best behavior.

In fact, Fiona’s staff often turned to him for assistance when some of her other guests turned loutish during her own popular summer house parties.

Tempers could flare when the weather turned sour and there was little to do other than drink.

He was always the one to keep matters from getting out of hand.

Surprisingly, this had happened even when Shoreham was alive. He’d always stepped in to help, for Shoreham was a gentle soul and did not have the physical build to grab a hotheaded drunkard by the nape and toss him outdoors to cool off.

“Fiona, have you planned anything for us today?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I wasn’t certain you would show up.”

“Still, you dressed for me. You look very pretty.” She had on a gown of palest pink muslin that seemed to brighten the bluish-green swirls of her eyes and put a blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, this old thing?” She glanced down and patted her hair with a feigned casual air.

He leaned forward and grinned. “Yes, that old thing which happens to be in the latest style of fashion. Not to mention, I have never seen you wear it before.”

“Oh, haven’t you? How odd. Well, I suppose we haven’t seen much of each other lately, have we? But as for this afternoon’s plans, as I said, I’ve made none for us, since I wasn’t certain when or if you would arrive.”

She glanced up at the sky. “It is a spectacular day and should not be wasted indoors. We could have a picnic lunch on the beach. Does this meet with your approval?”

He nodded. “Great idea. The shadows will be starting to stretch along the sand within the hour and provide shade if we sit by the stairs. We can take a walk along the beach after we eat, if you don’t mind. I could do with stretching my legs a bit.”

“Sounds perfect.”

She escorted him upstairs once his room was declared ready.

It was inconveniently located at the opposite end of the hall from hers.

For the sake of propriety, of course. Still, it gave him some concern, since he would be forced to come and go from her bedchamber using the hallway.

There was a risk he would be seen by a passing servant.

Well, they would figure out a solution later.

Not that it mattered. Fiona wore her feelings on her sleeve. Everyone would know by the satisfied glow on her face once he had bedded her.

Nor was he being full of himself to think he could make her quiver with passion. He could do it because of the strong bond of affection that already existed between them.

As for him, all she had to do was smile and he was lost.

He used the ewer of fresh water and its matching basin to wash the dirt off his face and body, then put on fresh clothes before returning downstairs. Since they were heading down to the beach, he did not bother to don a jacket or cravat. A linen shirt, buff trousers, and walking boots would do.

Fiona had not changed out of her pink muslin gown, but now wore a large straw hat trimmed with a matching pink silk ribbon to protect her skin from the sun.

He liked her in that hat, which was far prettier than a bonnet that would hide her face and dull her eyes. But under this hat, her eyes were big and bright.

“Shall we go?” she asked.

He grabbed the picnic basket and nodded. “Lead the way.”

She took the blanket Mrs. Harris now handed her.

They said nothing to each other, nor did they exchange a touch or look, while they made their way along the path and down the steps to the beach.

Nevertheless, sparks flew between them. Rob knew she had to be feeling these same jolts of excitement.

Perhaps their lunch was not the only thing he would taste while on the beach.

He longed to put his mouth on hers and taste the sweetness of her lips.

He ached to put his mouth anywhere on her body she would allow, for he had always adored her scent, which was never stale or overly perfumed but always fresh and natural as newly picked apples.

But he would wait and see what Fiona wanted. This week was not about sex, but love.

Although the path to love was going to be through having sex with her.

If Fiona thought they would have their fill of each other by rutting like rabbits and then be done, she was na?ve. He meant to make their lovemaking hot and shattering. His plan was to turn himself into an essential need for her, one she could no more do without than air in her lungs.

But today was not a day for action. Reconnaissance first. Check out the territory.

A gentle summer breeze shimmered through the lush foliage and relaxed him as they walked along the lightly wooded path toward the beach.

However, Rob could tell Fiona was tense. “Are you all set for Cherish and Gawain’s house party? Are there any chores I can help you with? I know you and Cherish often help each other out whether it is your party or hers.”