He needed to get her out of this room before he let her. And oh, how a deep, dark part of him wanted to let her devour him.
“I believe you would do better to revisit your strategy before you attempt something like this again, Lady Felicity,” he said sternly. “It is never wise to give away your plans to your opponent. Please make your way to your rooms. I believe you remember where they are?”
She nodded and headed toward him, a sly smile on her lips. A smile that inspired trepidation to simmer under his skin and at the same time lust to pulse demanding in his groin.
“Oh, but it is the opposite, Your Grace. Revealing my plan was all part of my strategy.”
She stopped before him, and he stared out the door into the cavernous entry, refusing to look at her. But he couldn’t refuse to hear her words.
“You will lie in your bed all night long,” she whispered, her soft breath like a knife against his skin. “Knowing the reason I’m here is because I want to be in yours. Knowing that all you have to do is come to me to get what we both want.”
She paused, and he clenched his fists.
“I’ll be ready, warm, willing…”
His gaze snapped to hers involuntarily, everything in him desperate to hear the rest, dreading hearing the rest.
She held his gaze, her amber eyes blown black. “But if you don’t… Just know, Your Grace. If you don’t come to me, I’ll be coming to thoughts of you.”
And with that, she gracefully glided from the room.
Ash blew out a breath and leaned against the wall, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. Fuck, he was in trouble. His hands trembled against the smooth, centuries-old, stone wall.
It was one thing to keep his unseemly desires under control when she was happily involved with his son. But to know that she wanted him—desired him—instead? That she wanted out of her betrothal? It made his mind make all sorts of horrible excuses.
His resolve, his restraint, was painfully thin. He had been too long without a woman, he told himself. Tried to convince himself that was the reason. It was—God, two years now? That had to be the reason for his reaction to her.
Liar.
It didn’t matter the reason. Because first thing in the morning, he was packing her in a carriage and shipping her back to London.
4
Felicity
Felicitydidn’tturnback,she didn’t let her shoulders drop, she didn’t let her chin dip. But beneath her damp, diaphanous skirts, her legs trembled like a newborn foal. Thank God for the storm that had soaked her to her bones, concealing her harried nerves beneath a guise of cold rain.
She couldn’t believe what she had just done, what she had just said. What had she said? Her mind seemed to have blanked out much of what transpired, because she wasn’t actually sure what she had said to the Duke. All she knew was she had relayed one of her most terrifyingly private moments to him. Something about imagining his hands when she was alone in her bed.
Holy mother of tits. Yes, she had said that, hadn’t she? If her legs weren’t as weak and feeble as a stork’s, she would jump and whoop. She was horrified and absolutely thrilled with herself.
There had been something empowering in trying to seduce the Duke. The way he’d backed away from her… She’d felt like a queen, and she had desperately wanted to force him to his knees before her. She wasn’t sure what that said about her as a person. But she had been on her best behavior her entire life. The minute she stepped beyond the sanctuary of her home, she became the demure, graceful image of a future duchess.
And what had that gotten her? Colborn’s pretty plaything? If she was going to play with anyone, she chose the Duke. A satisfied smile curved her lips.
Her gaze traversed the monstrous entry. Stone stairs were set against the towering walls, wrapping around three of them before they reached the second floor at least twenty feet above where she currently walked. How would she possibly climb all those stairs with her legs in their current state? With her heart threatening to burst straight through her ribcage? It beat against her bones with the same intensity of the drumming rain in the night’s storm.
She made her way through the decorative pointed archways, passed the stone columns thicker than her own waist, until she reached the threshold of the stairs. A soft, giddy giggle fled her lips, echoing against the fortified stones. Perhaps it was the medieval, grandiose castle, but she felt a bit like an enchantress, a manipulator of men. A slayer of men.
Maribeth had sat with Felicity and given her scores of advice on men as Felicity readied herself forThe Plan, instructing Felicity on the art of seduction.
Men love hearing about you touching yourself, Fliss. They enjoy watching you touch yourself as a matter of fact.That had made Felicity blush, which was a rarity for her with her best friend. She and Maribeth didn’t hesitate to share personal information, but she couldn’t imagine someone watching her while she did something so…private. Though, if it were the Duke… Well, she could imagine that.
Perhaps tonight she would.
Especially to thoughts of them,Maribeth had continued.So, just tell the Duke, you touch yourself and pretend it’s him.Maribeth didn’t realize that was exactly what Felicity did when she was in the privacy of her own chamber.
She didn’t know why it was always the Duke when she closed her eyes. Besides the obvious fact that he was devastatingly handsome with his rough, sharp edges, his deep blue, black-rimmed eyes, and his broad-shouldered, lean form.
