His protest died as she kissed his hands, his knuckles, his fingertips, then turned them over, kissing his scarred palms as well.
“Joceline.” His voice was soft as velvet and smooth as silk, filled with so much raw need that it made liquid desire pool low in her belly.
She kissed him some more, and then when she was breathless with longing, she brought his hands to her breasts, pressing them to her bodice, where, beneath the shield of her corset, her nipples were hard and almost painfully sensitive.
“Will you undress me, Quint?” she asked, allowing herself the freedom of using his given name.
He lowered his head and seized her lips as he found the fastening of her simple bodice, opening it as he kissed her. There had always been an efficient economy in removing her garmentsfor Joceline. The movements served a purpose. The quicker they were done, the sooner she could go to sleep and rest for the new day and all its waiting work. But there was such heady, potent luxury in having Quint undress her. She wanted it to go on forever, his caresses moving over tapes and buttons and hooks. But she also wanted it to end swiftly so that she could feel his skin on hers.
Remembering that she was not the only one who needed her clothing undone, she returned to his neckcloth, her tongue tangling with his as she tugged at the knot and pulled the linen free. She stepped out of her skirts and petticoat, feeling the heavy fabric glide down her hips to pool around her booted feet on the floor.
He raised his head then, breathing as harshly as she was, his stare glinting with undisguised passion. “Sit on the bed.”
She didn’t understand his request, her wits too addled from his kisses and his hands on her. “Why?” she managed, confused.
“You are always tending to me,” he explained, kissing her jaw, her nose, her cheek before straightening again. “It is my turn to tend to you.”
Protest was ingrained in her. This beautiful duke should not be waiting upon her. But he folded her hand in his, and the delicious intimacy of his skin on hers overtook any need to object as he guided her the three steps to her narrow bed.
She sat on the edge, watching in bemusement as he sank to his knees before her and lifted her right foot, settling the sturdy sole on his thigh. With calm, efficient motions, he untied the laces, loosened her boot, and slid it off. She made a soft sound of pleasure, flexing her toes, and he rubbed her stockinged foot, somehow unerringly finding all the places that pained her and soothing them. She hoped he didn’t notice the repairs she’d made to her stockings, nor the coarse, cheap quality of them. Butif he did, he didn’t comment upon it, his strong fingers expertly kneading her arch instead.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Heavenly,” she admitted.
“Good.” The smile he sent her was at once both boyish and wicked, dimples grooving his cheeks. “My God, you are so beautiful.”
His praise warmed her, and though she knew she must look a far cry from the elegant Lady Diana in her simple drawers and stockings, her plain corset and chemise, her hair pinned away in the same easy chignon she twisted it into herself each morning, shefeltbeautiful.
She smiled back at him. “Thank you.”
In truth, she thanked him for so much more than his tender ministrations on her foot. But emotions and yearning and rising desire robbed her of the ability to elucidate. So she simply watched as he moved to her left boot, untying the laces and pulling it free as well before rubbing this stockinged foot also.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this for days,” he said, taking an ankle in each hand and rubbing her calves.
“You have?” She sighed with bliss as he found muscles she hadn’t even known were tight and sore, tenderly working them into submission.
“Ever since you kissed me.” He caressed higher, along her outer thighs, moving under her chemise as he went. “I wouldn’t allow myself to think of it before then, for fear that you didn’t feel what I do.”
“I feel it too,” she confessed, inhaling when he framed her hips and tugged her forward with a swift yank, almost pulling her completely from the bed.
He kissed her knee over the white cotton of her drawers, his fingers finding the buttons on her waistband and plucking them free. “I didn’t dare to hope.”
Her drawers loosened, and he pulled on them. She lifted her bottom to aid him in his efforts, the undergarments slipping free. Although her chemise remained in place about her knees, covering her modesty, her thighs pressed together, a new sense of intimacy fell over her. He was going to see her—all of her.
And she wanted him to.
What a sinner she was. Her garters came undone, first one, then the other, and he dragged each one slowly, deliciously, down her leg, and she no longer cared. Instead, she admired him, so powerful and elegant in his shirtsleeves and trousers, the firelight dancing off his dark-gold hair as it swept over his face while he finished his task.
Reaching behind her, she snagged the laces of her corset and pulled, untying this knot as well, for if she didn’t soon loosen it, she feared she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Her heart was pounding, her lungs struggling to keep up with the demands of her body. The stays sagged, giving her relief, and she undid the hooks and eyes at the busk with practiced ease.
The corset fell to the bed, leaving her in only her worn chemise, which she knew to be quite transparent from years of washing without replacing it. His gaze darkened, falling to the swells of her breasts, heavy and full, her nipples jutting toward him through the thin fabric.
With a groan, he moved closer, releasing his hold on her legs to cup the mounds of her breasts in his hands. His head dipped, and he took the aching peak of one into his mouth, sucking hard.
A small sound of pleasure tore from her before she could help herself, for she felt that delicious pull deep in her core. He kissed the curve of her breast and then moved to the other, suckling that one as well.
It was good, so good, but not enough. She wanted his mouth on her without cloth between them. Grasping handfuls of her chemise, she pulled it to her waist. The movement dislodged himfrom her breast, but he understood what she was doing, sensual approval on his face as he watched her pull the chemise from under her bottom and then lift it over her head.
