Page 9 of Taken by the Icy Duke (Marriage Deals #3)

Chapter Nine

G ilbert returned home long after darkness had settled, expecting only stillness. The mansion’s corridors lay silent but for the soft crackle of distant hearth fires and the faint echo of his footsteps on the polished marble. Usually, he would retire at once, his chamber offering the only sliver of respite in a day otherwise filled with vexing responsibilities.

Instead, soft lamplight spilled from the small sitting room off his chambers. A faint irritation stirred at the unexpected sight. It was odd to see it lit at this hour, for Diana customarily sought her bed early and Gilbert did not customarily request his valet to keep the lamps lit in his chambers.

His valet knew better than to waste oil on empty rooms. He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion tugging at his patience. Curious and cautious, he stepped inside.

Diana stood before him wearing an alluring nightgown, her cheeks rosy in the gentle glow of the lamplight. Her lithe figure was silhouetted in amber by the lamp at her side.

Her long, loose hair framed her face in dark waves, and Gilbert found himself suddenly out of breath, struck by the contrast of her fair skin and the shadowy glow. Her posture—straight-backed, chin lifted—spoke of a purpose deeper than any casual goodnight.

“You are awake,” he said quietly, his words emerging more thickly than he had intended.

“Your lover came to see me today,” she announced calmly, despite the tremor he thought he detected underneath.

He felt his jaw tighten with fury and displeasure at the news. The dowager countess’s meddling was the last thing Diana deserved. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to approach her anger and hurt.

“I ended my liaison long ago. I have not slept with another since the moment we became wed,” he said after a tense moment, closing the door behind him. The click of the latch reverberated in the quiet.

Diana silently searched his face. A tinge of hurt crossed her features, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and she recovered her composure.

“I see you do not deny a relationship, then, which is well,” she replied. “She said enough to make me wonder if I will once again be humiliated. I will not endure that. I have already suffered a scandal not of my own making. I will not be shamed further by a straying husband.”

Gilbert raked a hand through his hair, wrestling between rage at the dowager countess and regret that he had left Diana so vulnerable. “I understand your suspicions,” he said carefully. “But the dowager countess has no claim on me. You must believe me. I have no intention of betraying our vows.”

“Do you know what it is like, Gilbert?” she demanded, her voice trembling despite the strength she tried to infuse into her words. “To have people look at you as though you are little more than an object of pity or disdain? To hear whispers behind your back about your worth—or lack of it? And to have your lover come to me, uninvited, as if to remind me of my place? I cannot bear it. Not again.”

“I shall not stand for it. I promise you,” Gilbert swore, caught off guard by the intensity of her words. For the first time in many years, he felt the inane urge to apologize, to submit to someone else.

“If you have desires, satisfy them here. With me.” She raised her chin, steadfastness and uncertainty mingling in her gaze. “I will not watch you drift to another’s bed.”

Her words cut him to his core more ferociously than he had expected. He wanted to refute it all, to promise her that no one would dare humiliate her again. But the sight of her, defiant yet trembling, unraveled him.

While her curves made his throat tighten, it was her eyes—bright with unshed tears—that truly disarmed him. He cautiously stepped closer, as though any sudden movement might shatter the fragile thread between them.

In the aftermath of a confrontation of such magnitude, he expected an outburst, rather than her sudden, daring invitation. For a moment, Gilbert simply stared, aware of how the lamplight outlined every curve beneath her thin nightclothes.

The quiet crackle of the lamp’s flame heightened the moment as he reached for her hand, gently closing his fingers around hers. Even through the thin silk of her gown, he could sense her warmth—and when she did not withdraw, he brushed his thumb across her knuckles. The flutter of her eyelids told him she felt the same magnetic pull he did. Her breathing became shallow with expectation.

Gilbert’s heart hammered. He had kept his distance; some instinct to grant her space in a marriage neither of them had chosen. But this was something else entirely. She wanted him near to her.

She truly wants me.

His sudden awareness sent a streak of need through his veins, tightening all his muscles and honing his senses. He could suddenly appreciate each silken strand of her hair, absorb the faint perfume of soap and rosewater on her skin and detect the beat of her heart.

Despite his astonishing acuity, doubt lingered within him, unwelcome but insistent. He had vowed to protect her, not ensnare her in the complexity of his emotions.

What right did he have to take more than she had already given: her name, her reputation, and her future? And yet, the soft flutter of her lashes, her intoxicating scent, and her unwavering gaze unraveled his restraint, thread by thread.

She remained silent and looked up at him through lowered lashes, standing firm, giving no quarter. Her posture challenged him to come closer, and close their final gap. He caught the subtle tremor of anticipation in her shoulders. The moment stretched, raw and electric, as though they both hovered on the brink of something new and mysterious.

He bent his head, letting his breath warm the space between them. She did not retreat. Instead, her hands found their way to his sleeves, sliding up until her fingertips grazed the solid muscles of his arms. He felt a rush of satisfaction, a surge of raw desire that had nothing to do with duty or obligation.

No words would suffice, so he did not speak. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, a slow, deliberate contact that tested and tasted. She neither flinched nor demurred. Instead, she pressed forward, meeting him halfway, and he felt the slight shiver that consumed her body; an answering spark to the flame that burned inside of him.

There would be time later for all the questions they were not asking. Here and now, there was only heat and tension and the press of her body against his. In the hush of that lamplit chamber, they surrendered to the single truth that mattered: they were alone, they were bound, and at this moment, they wanted nothing more than to be close.

Diana’s senses exploded the instant Gilbert’s lips met hers, and all coherent thought dissolved into a heady haze of pleasure. She had braced herself for hostility when she confronted him about his past lover; had rehearsed angry words and steeled her nerves to toss accusations. Yet with one gentle, insistent press of his mouth, he scattered all the arguments she had carefully crafted.

She feared he had seen straight through her guarded facade. Did he sense how the blood raced through her veins, how the very scent of him made her feel warm and unsteady and overcome by need?

When she had offered herself in place of the imagined lover, she had intended only to protect herself, to ensure he would not humiliate her by straying. What she had not expected was the rush of anticipation flaring beneath her ribs, a strange mix of fear and longing that made her voice become soft and her limbs weak.

His full lips were warmer and softer than she had imagined. Although she had initially held her breath, overcome by uncertainty and apprehension, she soon found herself leaning in, drawn by a desire she had not realized she possessed. A quiet gasp escaped her as she welcomed the unfamiliar sensation. Any remaining spark of anger flickered and died, replaced by a tentative hunger that startled her with its intensity.

An electrical surge spread through her limbs and she vibrated from the intensity caused by the touch of his mouth on hers. She sensed the erratic gallop of her own heartbeat. It was almost frightening how eagerly her body responded to his.

The moment his hand splayed across the small of her back, pulling her closer, she felt a flood of tingling awareness, as though every nerve had come alive at once. Her mind reeled, trying to reconcile the austere, distant man she had married with this new, intimate presence that now held her so carefully.

He broke away from her briefly, his hands cupping her face.

“I did not intend for you to doubt me.” Gilbert whispered. Diana could see the sincerity in his eyes. “It seems I have failed at that. I apologize for not attending to my duties as your husband.”

Duties. His word sounded so formal, yet there was a thread of genuine feeling behind it. Diana’s breath hitched as he murmured into her open and waiting mouth.

“Perhaps, now is as good a time as any,” he whispered huskily against her lips.

She parted her lips to speak, but found no words. Instead, she reached for him, resting one hand lightly on his sleeve. He took her invitation without hesitation.

Leaning in, his mouth met hers again, tentative at first, tasting her willingness. She responded without thinking; just the soft pressure of his lips made her heart pound, and all her worries and fears shrank into the distance.

Her fingertips traveled up his sleeves, testing the firm muscle beneath, and she realized how near they stood to each other. They were so close that she could hear his heartbeat echoing her own. She had never been this near to a man before.

The newness frightened her just enough to make her tremble, but she refused to retreat. Instead, she pressed closer, answering his tentative exploration with a growing certainty of her own.

Their kiss deepened. She felt his arm wrap around her waist, drawing her close, and she dared not think of tomorrow or the past scandals. In this instant, the world narrowed to the warmth of his body, the firm press of his lips, the subtle scent of his skin. When he moved to trail his fingers lightly along the curve of her spine, she shivered deeply, her body vibrating with unexpected pleasure.

He deepened the kiss, and Diana felt a rush of warmth swirl low in her belly, a sensation she had only read about in forbidden novels. Her heart pounded so fiercely that she wondered if he could feel its wild drumming against his chest.

Somehow, the knowledge that he might only made the moment more intoxicating. All her carefully guarded composure crumbled, leaving her both vulnerable and radiant in her husband’s arms.

She would have gladly stayed like that, lost in the hush of the evening and the slow discovery of each other’s comfort. But then came a dreaded knock, shrill enough to slice through the delicate bubble they had created.

They froze. Diana pulled back, her breath unsteady, and saw in his eyes a flicker of frustration at the interruption.

Gathering himself, Gilbert stepped away, his gaze still heated.

“Enter,” he called out brusquely.

The door swung open to reveal Timmons, his face politely impassive. Diana tried not to flush too obviously, smoothing the front of her gown, and praying that the lamplight hid the brightness of her cheeks.

“Your Grace,” Timmons said, “a letter has just arrived. It bears Lord Leopold’s seal. The messenger was insistent that it be delivered immediately.”

Leopold. The name alone conjured all manner of complicated emotions for Diana. She watched as Gilbert’s expression hardened fractionally. He took the letter and broke the seal. His gaze skimmed the lines quickly, his mouth tightening at the contents of the missive. Timmons waited for Gilbert’s next instruction.

He exhaled softly, then turned to her with regret in his eyes.

“Diana,” he said, folding the parchment, “I must reply to this immediately. My brother…he wonders if I truly married you. It appears he has only just learned of it.”

Disappointment tugged at her, but she forced a small nod. She would not begrudge him this duty. He had already shown her more consideration than ever before.

“Of course,” she managed, her voice subdued. “I understand.”

He touched her hand lightly, a silent promise that they would not leave things unresolved. Then, without another word, he followed Timmons out the door, the letter tucked under his arm.

Diana stood alone, her lips still tingling from his kiss, her heart unsettled but oddly hopeful. She had felt sincerity in his touch, and though reality had swiftly intruded, she felt certain that their exchange marked the first step toward something in which she could truly believe.