Page 22 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)

Chapter Twenty-Two

T hey arrived at Rivenhall House just as dusk fell over the city, the sky tinged with fiery orange remnants of the sun. The carriage ride home had passed in a haze of contentment and undeclared longing, punctuated by quiet chuckles whenever one of them recalled a small detail of their afternoon outing.

Diana felt her body charging with anticipation as the carriage stopped. A spirited energy crackled between them, fueled by stolen glances and memories of recent shared smiles. Diana stepped down from the carriage and looked up at Gilbert. His returning gaze was nothing short of smoldering, the warmth of the day’s laughter transformed into a deeper, more urgent heat. He bent down to whisper in her ear.

“I need you upstairs, now,” he breathed urgently, his breath warm against her neck.

She breathed in slowly, her heart beating faster under his silent scrutiny. A breeze tousled a stray curl across her cheek, but she scarcely noticed—her entire focus was on him.

Gilbert’s posture was rigid with anticipation, as though it was taking every ounce of his self-restraint not to pull her into his arms right there in the driveway. One of the footmen hurried forward to collect their packages. Diana smiled in polite thanks, though the knot in her stomach reminded her she wanted no further interruptions.

The tall entrance doors swung open as they stepped across the threshold. Soft lamplight spilled into the twilight and illuminated the gilded edges of the foyer beyond. They crossed it swiftly. Usually, Diana would pause to greet the butler or exchange a few words with the waiting housekeeper, but tonight her mind buzzed with a singular awareness: Gilbert’s hand, warm and insistent, pressed against the small of her back.

The moment the great doors closed behind them, his gentle pressure increased. His arm encircled her waist, pulling her close until her skirts nestled against his coat. Diana’s breath caught as she felt the intensity radiating from him. A mild blush rose to her cheeks at the realization that any passing servant might see them. Yet even that caution could not outweigh the thrill coursing through her veins.

Neither spoke. She lifted her gaze, his half-lowered lashes revealing a fierce longing in his eyes that was both exhilarating and slightly disquieting. It was as though the entire day had built up to that moment, and both knew that words would only delay the inevitable.

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that stole her breath. She responded without hesitation. The footmen near the door had tactfully withdrawn, leaving them alone in the soaring foyer.

“Take me up to bed,” she breathed headily, sound barely escaping her lips.

Gilbert needed no further encouragement. A soft gasp escaped her as he swept her into his arms as though she weighed nothing. She looped her arms around his neck, startled into a breathless laugh that dissolved into a low moan as he kissed her again. As their kiss deepened, Diana forgot about her weariness and the ache in her feet from hours of strolling. All that mattered was the tightening coil of desire growing between them.

She scarcely registered the distant echo of footsteps—likely a servant scurrying away to give them privacy—fading down a corridor. Her attention was fixed on the strong angle of Gilbert’s jaw, the curve of his full, warm lips against hers, and the careful yet insistent way he carried her up the sweeping staircase. His every step felt purposeful, each footfall resounding with the promise of what lay ahead.

By the time they reached her bedchamber door, her fingers were already tugging at the buttons of his coat, while he fumbled for the latch. Their shared urgency lent a kind of clumsiness to the moment, punctuated by soft laughter whenever their hands collided or a button snagged. At last, the door clicked shut with a firm finality.

Without breaking their kiss, Gilbert guided her backward until her calves met the edge of the bed. Her skirts tangled around her ankles as she eased down, the soft billow of fabric rustling in the stillness.

He followed her onto the sheets, one knee braced on the mattress as his hands cradled her face for another searing kiss. Every brush of his fingers against her skin sent a fresh wave of need through her. She could feel his heart pounding beneath his coat in the same erratic rhythm that drummed in her own chest.

Their breaths came faster, mingling with the rustle of their clothing in the noiseless room. The flickering glow from a single bedside lantern cast shifting shadows across the walls, illuminating the fervor in Gilbert’s eyes each time he broke away from her lips.

Bit by bit, each layer of clothing was shed, their urgency mounting with every loosened button and discarded piece of fabric. Although they had shared intimacies before, that particular evening’s passion felt different; sharper, more demanding, as though their playful camaraderie throughout the day had transmuted into intense desire.

When he murmured her name against her throat, Diana’s stomach clenched. She sank her hands into his hair, her own whispered endearments mingling with his ragged breathing. A fragile sense of security fell over them, cocooning them from the rest of the world. Their heady surrender belonged solely to them, free from the constraints of extraneous obligations.

“You have no idea how much I have desired you all afternoon,” Gilbert breathed against her neck, making her shudder.

His kisses trailed across her collarbone and down her chest, scattering embers of fire across her sensitive skin. She clung to him, each sense heightened by the weight of his powerful body pressed intimately against hers. He bent his head down and flicked his tongue across the tips of her breasts, making her gasp. When she moaned, he lifted her in his arms, moved her to the middle of the bed and hovered over her with a heated look.

His lips crashed down upon hers, instantly erasing all thoughts from her mind. All she knew, all she could feel, was Gilbert, positioning himself between her legs, gliding his swollen member into her wet, welcoming entrance, and thrusting deep inside.

“Gilbert…”

She groaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and locking her legs behind his knees as his rod stroked her tight canal. Diana grew dizzy from the intense desire emanating from her loins and spreading up her body.

She gripped the bedsheets tightly, then bucked and lifted her hips in an urgent plea for him to enter her more deeply, the speed of their rhythmic movements increasing with each thrust.

Diana’s entire being was completely focused on the slide of their slick bodies and the force of his enormous member as it pounded into her. The rasp of her tender, erect nipples against his chest intensified her mounting euphoria.

She clung onto his arms, desperately awaiting her imminent release, holding her breath as she exploded, and her rapturous orgasm swept her away.

Diana’s release continued to ebb and flow in dizzying waves. Her heart hammered violently; her breathing was ragged as her body throbbed and vibrated of its own accord.

Gilbert groaned, and she felt his body stiffen and shudder as he tightened his grip on her hips. A low, husky moan escaped him as he pressed into her, then dropped his head into the crook of her neck.

For several minutes neither of them stirred. Diana’s heart still thundered, each beat reverberating in her head like a distant drum. A languid warmth claimed her limbs as she cradled Gilbert’s head against her shoulder, feeling the dampness of his brow and the jagged cadence of his breathing.

She continued to twitch with tingling aftershocks and closed her eyes, struggling to orient herself.

Gilbert shifted, pressing a long, tender kiss to her temple. “Diana,” he murmured unsteadily. “You are… incredible.”

She smiled at him, soft laughter escaping her throat, then paused as she caught a glimpse of unease lurking behind his tender expression.

He rolled over and lay beside her, panting faintly while tracing random patterns along her arm, as though he too was discovering newly awakened feelings.

They crawled under the sheets, the hush of the late hour surrounding them. Diana nestled her head on his shoulder, soothed by the steady thump of his heart. Neither seemed truly ready for sleep; too many questions and emotions floated just beneath the surface.

When they finally spoke, their voices were hushed and intermittent; uttered murmured endearments, and half-formed sentiments. Diana’s heart brimmed with a fragile tenderness for this man who had once seemed so distant. She once again found herself pondering the peculiar notion that she might be falling in love. The thought both exhilarated and frazzled her.

As the lamp burned low and the fireplace embers began to grow faint, she felt Gilbert tense as though he had suddenly recalled something of importance. He inhaled deeply, rested his hand against the curve of her waist, then swallowed.

“I…” His voice came out strained, stumbling over the word. “I should not have…”

Diana blinked, stirring from the edges of drowsiness.

“Should not have what?” she asked, drawing her brows together in confusion.

Gilbert’s jaw clenched. He spoke in a subdued tone, worry creeping into the corners of his voice. “I neglected caution, Diana,” he confessed. “I never intended to… to finish inside you.”

She vaguely recalled that he dreaded fatherhood, that he had vowed never to risk it, but was unable to grasp why it was so dire. Softly, she ventured, “I do not quite see the harm. We are wed, after all.”

Gilbert appeared distressed, though she sensed he was trying to hide it from her.

“We are.” He stammered, shifting his gaze from hers to stare at the faint glow of the fireplace. “It is only… I have my reasons for wanting to avoid you being with child.” He turned his face back to her. “You deserve more than my fears.”

Diana’s confusion grew. She lifted herself on one elbow and peered down at him.

“Gilbert, I cannot pretend to understand fully,” she said carefully, “but you need not regret it so deeply. As I said, we are husband and wife, are we not? Unless there is something I fail to comprehend?”

He exhaled, the sound carrying a note of frustration or guilt.

“I did not wish—” He broke off, drawing a hand over his face. “I have always believed it best that I never sire an heir.” His voice nearly cracked at the admission.

Diana’s eyes searched his face.

“Is that truly so important? The chance of a child?” She braced for him to reveal tragedies or burdens of which she was unaware.

For several moments he said nothing. Then, as though forcing steadiness, he lifted a hand to her cheek, his thumb grazing her skin. “We shall speak more of this in the morning. I fear I have let impulses overrule my common sense.”

Diana offered a small, uncertain smile.

“I do not mind if your impulses overrule caution on occasion,” she teased gently, although she sensed the gravity in him. “You need not be so troubled.”

“It matters more than you realize,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. His eyes remained shadowed. “I am sorry.”

She let out a slow breath, pressing her free hand over the one he kept at her cheek.

“I only wish I understood,” she murmured, furrowing her brow. “But perhaps tomorrow will shed more light. Shall we rest now?” Diana drew him closer, longing to offer comfort she was uncertain how to give.

Gilbert nodded in agreement, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Yes,” he repeated quietly. “In the morning.” His hand tightened slightly on her waist, as though he both feared and craved her nearness.

Diana settled against his chest, perplexed by his anxiety but unwilling to allow it to overshadow the pleasant buzz that still coursed through her veins. If there were consequences, they would face them together, although she recognized that something far heavier weighed upon Gilbert’s mind than she could yet grasp.

They resettled themselves, with him drawing her closer in a protective curve, her back against his chest. She sensed the conflict simmering beneath his exhausted exterior, and her heart ached for him. She knew little of the fears that had shaped his aversion to intimacy’s potential outcome, but she sensed it was tied to old scars and losses.

In the hush of the bedchamber, sleep finally claimed them, though it came in fitful waves. Diana drifted between half-dreams of the afternoon’s carefree outing and fleeting visions of a child with Gilbert’s dark hair and her brown eyes.

Each time she stirred, she felt Gilbert’s arms around her, grounding her in the present. Their nearness made her ache with a longing that was both physical and profoundly emotional. She wanted more than passion; she needed trust, partnership, and love.