Page 6 of Starlight and the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #5)

S upper was a quiet affair, a simple meal of rabbit stew and a lemon syllabub for dessert, after which Fiona suggested she and Rob take a walk to the beach to watch the sunset. “Not down the steps, just to stand at the top of them and enjoy the sun disappear into the water. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect. We had better bring a lantern for the way back.”

She nodded. There was something so achingly good about being with him. Perhaps because he knew her so well and had seen her go through every stage of her life. “That’s a fine idea.”

He was also the perfect blend of kind and patient, ready to tease her but never coerce her into doing something she was not ready to do. This bedding thing was surprisingly disconcerting to her.

She wanted to do it.

Dear heaven.

It was shocking how eagerly she desired it.

But making treasured memories with him would also be incredibly painful because each shared moment also marked an approaching end.

As though sensing her thoughts, he took her hand, entwining their fingers—and with it their hearts—as they walked along the familiar path to the water.

But she was trying to untangle their hearts.

Not today. The hurt and despair would come soon enough, so why rush it?

He slipped an arm around her waist when they reached the beach steps, neither of them saying anything as they watched the sun’s fading rays catch the clouds and turn them to fiery shades of red, orange, and yellow across the sky.

A blaze of twilight lingered for another few minutes.

Fiona knew it would leave enough illumination for them to return to the manor house without having to bother lighting the lantern.

“Let’s go,” she said before the ache of darkness marked the passage of another day and became too difficult to ignore.

She had a dozen memories from these past hours alone with Rob that she needed to write in her journal while they were still fresh in her mind. Not that she would ever forget a single moment of these days of heaven, but the details could be forgotten and the recollections distorted over time.

“All right,” he said, sounding just as wistful, “and what’s next?”

It was too early for them to retire for the night, since her staff would notice and start wondering if there was something going on between them.

Perhaps it was foolish of her to care, or to believe anyone would be deceived even though their rooms were far apart.

“Um, we could read or play cards, as I mentioned earlier. I would offer to play the pianoforte, but I am not very good at it. Cherish is the one who plays divinely.”

He grinned. “I know. I’ve heard her…and I’ve heard you. No pianoforte.”

She laughed and gave him a light smack on the arm. “Beast. That wasn’t polite.”

“No, but truthful. I’m not judging, since I cannot play at all. Do you mind if we just sit in the parlor and read?”

“Not at all. I have some writing to do, so I’ll sit at my desk while you settle in comfortably with a book. Would you like a brandy, too?”

He nodded. “Will you join me?”

She winced. “I’ve never acquired a taste for it.”

“A glass of wine, then?”

She usually drank tea, but wine would also serve to calm her nerves. She hadn’t imbibed enough of it as they ate their stew.

When the clock chimed the eleven o’clock hour and it had fallen quite dark outside, Simmons appeared. “My lady, shall I close up the house now?”

Rob shut his book and stood up. “I’ll take care of it before I retire. Is there anything I should not overlook?”

“No tricks or secrets to this house, Your Grace. Just make certain the windows and doors on this main floor are locked. I have already taken care of the kitchen and the staff area. Front door is already locked, too.”

“I’ll attend to the rest. Have a good evening, Simmons.”

“You as well, Your Grace.” He then turned to address Fiona and wish her a good evening.

“And you, Simmons,” she replied, nodding to dismiss him.

With her butler now gone, Rob returned to reading his book, his manner casual, as though this was not the night he would undress her and spend it doing all sorts of shameful things with her and to her.

She thought of Shoreham and how he had always approached her.

But Rob was different. He was going to undress her, wasn’t he? Was this not why he had made a show of taking off his clothes and swimming earlier today?

Well, he could have done that simply because he was hot and wanted to swim to cool himself down.

She finished writing the last of the entries in her journal and cleared her throat.

Utter silence from Rob.

She cleared her throat again.

He peered up from his book, one eyebrow arched. “Catching a cold?”

“No, I am fine. I think we ought to close up the house now.”

He smiled. “Yes, m’lady. Why don’t you run up to your bedchamber while I take care of securing the windows and doors?”

She nodded and drank the last droplets of her wine, practically licking her glass clean and debating whether to pour herself another glass for courage.

Honestly, she was behaving like a goose.

And for what? She had been married for almost two decades and knew all about carnal visits. Well, Shoreham was not quite the brash, heat-of-passion sort of fellow. No, indeed. He was best described as a considerate husband.

But Rob?

Panther eyes. Powerful body. It was because of him she was feeling like a fluttering goose.

Were it any other man, she wouldn’t care and be completely relaxed. Of course, were it any other man, she would not be considering doing what she was willing and aching to do with him.

She grabbed her journal and scurried upstairs to her bedchamber, needing to put it under lock and key before anyone found it and read it.

The things she had written about his body, and wanting to do to his body… Utterly naughty. Lustful. Not merely crude, but banned-from-church lewd.

Now, if only she could be so brave in actuality.

She must have been lost in her thoughts longer than she realized, because she had done little more than lock away her journal, begin to unlace her gown, then change her mind and unpin her hair first, intending to brush it out.

She had not even reached for her hairbrush before Rob was suddenly standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest as he waited for her invitation to enter. “May I?” he asked.

Had she not been inviting him all day long with her moon-eyed looks?

She nodded. “I left the door open hoping you would.”

He strode in and shut it behind him.

“Let me help you,” he said in a soft, melt-your-soul, seductive voice that filled her with anticipation.

She gulped.

The air between them suddenly turned incendiary because of those fiery looks he was tossing at her. All at once, she could not breathe.

Nor could he, it seemed.

“Fiona,” he said in an aching whisper as he approached, stopping inches from her to stare at her with her hair down and her gown loosened so that one sleeve slipped off her shoulder. He smiled and gently ran his fingers through her curls. “Silky.”

She wanted to laugh. Her locks had always been too wild for Shoreham’s liking.

She shoved the wayward curls back with her fingers, and hadn’t the time to reply before he kissed her lightly on the one bare shoulder and then drew her into his arms.

Was this really about to happen?

“Fiona,” he repeated, crushing his mouth down on hers. She felt the white-hot press of his lips capturing hers and swallowing her up in a scorching kiss. Pure fire. Every inch of her was now singed.

There were different levels of fire—everyone knew this. Blue being the coolest flame, then red, then blinding white, like a flash of lightning that strikes in an instant and burns you to ashes.

This was his level of heat.

Oh, his mouth felt so good on hers. Crushing. Demanding. Possessive.

But also achingly tender.

Her body combusted as her bosom came into contact with the hard wall of his chest and her hip grazed his thigh. Her blood turned molten and flowed like lava through her veins.

This fiery explosion was to be expected because they had been together all afternoon and into the night, two unlit powder kegs of repressed desire. It took only one of them to set the other off.

He worked the lacings of her gown while consuming her with this first kiss, his fingers nimble despite the quivering urgency both of them were feeling.

She just wanted to rip the clothes off him.

“Slow down, Fiona.” He laughed and then kissed her deeply again, as though reaching for her soul.

He moved her backward to the bed without breaking contact with her mouth. No doubt he had done this before, for he was quite smooth going about it.

She tugged at his shirt, attempting to pull it over his massive shoulders, but this caused them to stumble onto the mattress instead and awkwardly end the kiss. He had to catch himself and roll to the side before he fell atop her.

First he laughed, and then he groaned. Such an aching groan. “I wanted to take it slow with you, Fiona.”

“I know. Much appreciated but completely unnecessary.” She was still trying to peel his shirt of him.

“I’ll do it.” He gave another agonized laugh before shedding it with a quick and careless masculine movement that involved flexing muscles and straining sinews.

Oh. Dear. Heaven.

“Your gown next.” He kissed her neck as his fingers worked the last of her lacings and set off little fires in her body.

Magic fingers. He always did have glorious hands.

He tossed her gown aside and settled atop her even though she still had on her chemise. He had kept his trousers on. Did he think she needed to be treated as gently as an innocent?

It was true that she was not proficient in the sexual arts and would never be a proper courtesan. But she wasn’t completely ignorant. “Do not take it slow, Rob. I’ll panic and think too much if you do.”