Page 32 of The Blind Duke's Ward
“But…” Gemma began.
Nathan put a finger to her lips and then put his own lips there. She closed her eyes, touching his face and letting the sweet bliss wash through her. It was bittersweet, knowing that she could not remain here, could not allow Nathan to go to such lengths for her. But for this all too brief moment, she allowed the kiss to continue and tried to imprint the feelings of it into her mind.
There will never be another kiss like it. I want to remember every sensation of it.
There came a knock at the door. Nathan slowly withdrew from her and for a moment, Gemma remained kneeling beside him, eyes closed and face upturned. Then, with a small sigh of regret, she stood, composing herself. Then, Nathan called out to enter.
Marshall entered the room.
“Marshall, I have had an accident. Kindly fetch a basin of cold water and some bandages if you please,” Nathan said.
Gemma saw Marshall’s eyebrows raise in alarm. Nathan raised his hand to show the injury.
“Of course, Your Grace. At once.”
Ever the efficient servant, Marshall promptly departed to carry out his instructions. Gemma sighed and carefully placed Nathan’s hand on the arm of the chair.
“I do not feel right accepting this gift from you. I have done nothing to earn it.”
“You have brought a new light into my life, Gemma,” Nathan said earnestly. “A thrill that I have not experienced before. That is reason enough for me.”
All thoughts of the last time she would kiss Nathan disappeared from her mind. Impulsively, she lowered her head to him and kissed him again. With his good hand, he gently cupped the back of her head, stroking her hair. The kiss began with spontaneous passion and then slowed.
Gemma felt herself melting into it and barely noticed when Nathan’s hand moved from her hair to her waist, tenderly pulling her to the chair until she sat on his lap. His arms went about her and she snuggled into the embrace, feeling warm and safe within the circle of his strong arms.
She knew that a servant would be arriving at any moment, bringing water and linen as instructed. That meant there was a chance they would be caught. All it would take would be a servant forgetting to knock, too concerned for their master’s health to remember the etiquette. A door was all that stood between the embracing couple and exposure. It sent an unexpected thrill through Gemma.
The idea that they might be seen, exposed, was exciting. She shifted her position and squirmed as Nathan caressed her thigh and buttocks, squeezing and exploring to produce sighs and whimpers from her. She ran her hands up and down his chest, relishing the feel of the taut, lean muscle.
With each stroke, her hand moved lower and lingered longer. She was tempting fate, taunting providence to catch them in their tryst. In her mind, the thought of being seen, her hand lingering over the constrained hardness of Nathan’s manhood, played over and over. It took her breath away, making her squeeze her thighs together as a tingle ran through her.
Driven by passion, she pushed Nathan’s hands away and shifted her position until she straddled him. Cupping his face in her hands, she began to rain long, soft kisses upon his cheeks, eyes, forehead, and lips. He lifted his face to her after each touch, seeking the next, but she set the pace of her kisses and delighted in tantalizing him.
Her lips sought his neck, pulling impatiently at the collar of his shirt and the cravat that held it in place. It seemed to her so wild and wanton to bite at him there, to feel his pulse against her lips and tongue. He helped her, casting the cravat aside. The pin that held the cravat clattered metallically as it struck the floor.
Gemma moaned in delight as she found she could now open her mouth against his throat. She felt like a she-devil, a vampiress, seducing her handsome victim, weaving a spell over him.
“You are a witch. You have me bewitched,” Nathan whispered.
Gemma was startled by such prescient words, as though he had reached into her mind. She looked at him in wonder, marveling at the ethereal connection she felt with this man, that he clearly felt for her too. Then came the knock at the door.
Nathan smiled ruefully, stealing one last kiss before Gemma slid from him. When she had arranged herself to ensure respectability, he called out and the door opened. Marshall entered empty-handed.
“Apologies for the delay, Your Grace. Mr. Pennington believes there are poachers on the grounds. He sent one of his boys to alert me. He is stalking them as we speak. It seems the matter is well under control but I thought I should keep you informed.”
Gemma put her hands to her stomach which was suddenly aflutter. She felt a cold chill down her spine and looked at Nathan who was frowning.
“Poachers, eh? Well, it is a problem for every estate these days, though the licenses to hunt that I give out had, I thought, put an end to it at Hutton.”
“Indeed, Your Grace. In fact, the known poachers from Barrowby have all been heard to swear off the act, at least on your lands.”
“Well, poachers are criminals after all. I suppose we should not take their words for it. Pennington will give them hell, I’m sure.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will be going to fetch the water basin and bandages—”
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Gemma jumped in fright, letting out a small squeal. Another followed, then a third. The sound carried in through the open window, coming from outside but sounding frighteningly close.
CHAPTERTWENTY