Now he felt sickened by the petulance in his voice. He sounded worse than Clara on her worst day.
“I apologise, Your Grace.” Maribel spoke politely, but her eyes shot daggers at him. Marcus, on the other hand, was trying to stifle a laugh.
They had been drinking port, except while Marcus had been taking mouthfuls, Maribel had been taking tiny sips. She always kept control of herself except in the throes of passion, which only he was now privy too. She still seemed vexed by him, and she narrowed her eyes in reprimand.
“Forgive me, Your Graces, I fear I must retire. I am overcome with tiredness. And I am sure you two have much to catch up on.”
They bid her goodnight, and Thomas had no way to ask her to wait for him in his bed, so it appeared he would sleep alone tonight.
Turning to a gloating Marcus, he scowled.
“Explain yourself.”
“I had to see that fine specimen of a woman for myself. You had left me so intrigued with your letter, your visit. I was worried she was some kind of charlatan intending to deceive you. I can see now that Maribel is a sweet woman—intelligent and a worthy opponent to challenge your flaws.”
“Is that why you spent the evening flirting with her, you reprobate?”
“Ah, my friend, I did that purely for the joy of seeing your displeasure. Jealousy does not become you.”
Still scowling, Thomas poured them another glass.
“Your timing is just very inconvenient. I am trying to determine how to navigate our situation. She has captured my very essence, and it is a feeling like no other. I want to be a good man—a man that’s worthy of her.”
“That is admirable, Thomas, but with all respect when I say this,—where can this go? She has no title, no land or money. A mistress or a companion is all I can see for her in your life.”
“Where does it state that a duke cannot marry anyone he chooses?” he shot back hotly.
“It is not a written rule, but an unspoken one in our world. You know this, Thomas. And I quite like her, so believe me when I say it is a shame. You have much to consider and no need to make a decision now.”
“You are correct. All that matters now is the now. And with that, I am also going to retire after this port. I believe I have had the perfect amount to allow me to sleep without agonising over the reality you just shared.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Maribel had retired to bed, but after much deliberation, she relocated to Thomas’s bed. Despite his provoking her ire with his childish behaviour, she wanted to be close to him. Too restless to fall asleep just yet, she was in front of his dressing room mirror. The frame was an ornate bronze that spoke of its expense. Maribel had wanted to stand nude in front of it but had not been brazen enough when Thomas was in the room. She had seen it when he had shown her the privy room behind it. He had then fascinated her with the news that his townhouse in London had recently had flushing toilets installed. She smiled to herself, recalling his amusement at her questions.
A lamp was burning, giving her enough light to see her figure, and she ran her fingers softly over her figure. Her plump curves had been worshipped by Thomas, and every inch of her person had felt cherished. Her breasts still felt heavy. Her nipples were the colour of dark honey surrounded by a lighter areola. The buds had hardened in arousal as her body responded to her wantonness. Her hair hung loose, and she recalled Thomas commenting how prettily the chestnut curls at her head matched the hair between her legs. It had never occurred to her a man could be so enraptured by every little detail. She moved her hands to the swell of her stomach.
Maribel heard breathing, and realising it wasn’t hers, she diverted her gaze in the mirror and saw Thomas standing behind her in the dim light.
“You have no idea how relieved I am to see you standing here, Maribel. I had assumed you retired to your own bed.”
He moved to stand behind her, his chest against her back, and grabbed her hands with his own. Using their hands, he began to stroke her, stopping at her breasts to fondle her stiffened nipples. A moan escaped at the erotic action of both their hands caressing her.
“It feels good, doesn’t it, my sweet Maribel,” he whispered while peppering kisses along the length of her neck and collarbone. She mewled in response, pressing her derrière against his crotch. Moving their hands further down, he traced the dip of her hips and the small of her stomach before reaching the spot that was most desperate for his touch. Still holding her hands in his own, he rubbed her mound, now moist with desire. It felt so deliciously wrong to have both their hands touching her in that place.
“How decadent, Thomas,” she managed to gasp between quickened breaths.
“Yes, it is, and I am not done with you yet. Bend over and hold on to that chair over there and then spread your legs.”
Asking no questions she quickly adopted the requested position while he undressed. Still behind her, he pulled her hips towards him, and she felt the length of him push inside her, pushing as deeply as he could, till she was certain that he filled every inch of her. She gripped the chair tightly with her hands and kept her feet planted firmly on the floor to take every thrust in stride.
“You are so very wilful, Maribel. You match me at every turn,” he growled and spanked her bottom.
That sharp slap only heightened her desire.
“Do that again.”
He spanked her other cheek so that both sides smarted, and he increased the pace of his movements, gripping her hips tightly. That familiar wave of ecstasy began to spread throughout her limbs, and the climax hit her quickly and forcefully as she tried to hold her balance.
