A full day had passed since Lavinia had emerged from the maze, and yet she could not forget how she felt when she had been left alone with the Duke.
She recalled the way his thumb had brushed over her cheek, and she had nearly lost herself in the hypnotic light brown pools that were his eyes.
But must I really? Could I not see him again briefly?
Lavinia stabbed the nib of her quill into the piece of parchment that sat on her writing desk.
She had been trying to stop thinking about the Duke by writing a letter to one of her friends in Scotland, Miss Siobhan Kelley, but she had not penned much more than the salutation. The trouble was that her mind kept drifting back to the garden.
He is… devastatingly handsome. And if we were to share one kiss… one sweet, simple kiss… how bad could that really be?
Almost immediately, she shook off the ridiculous notion. She knew instinctively that if she kissed the Duke, her feelings thereafter would not be simple. And the kiss itself would most likely not be sweet.
Wicked…
That was what she had asked him to show her. A bit of wickedness.
Lavinia shook her head, wishing she could forget her own folly.
I seek romance, love, the sort of adoration that will last for years.
She remembered the way her parents looked in their anniversary portrait.
Could the Duke ever look at me like that? As a lady worthy of love, respect, and affection?
She crumpled the parchment into a ball and then tossed it carelessly over her shoulder. She knew the answers to her questions.
The Duke of Pemberton was not the man she wanted or needed him to be. She had not waited so long, withdrawn from Society and come to the country, so that she could give herself to someone like him. Even if his roguish smile did make her heart skip a beat.
She pushed away from her writing desk and paced around her bedchambers. When her eyes fell on the diamond necklace her father had gifted her, her heart sank.
Must I rejoin the house party? Do I really need to continue going through the motions of this celebration?
Socializing with the most established and most arrogant gentlemen in Society had quite drained the life from her. The constant trading of stories of their travels, finances, and estates had exhausted all her energy. Their constant need to prove themselves while deluging her with all sorts of compliments had her hoping that she would miraculously find a gentleman somewhere in the crowd and that he would take her away to somewhere quiet and peaceful.
But that thought quickly left her mind. It was a mere spot of wishful thinking.
Lavinia plopped down on her inviting bed. She stared at the ceiling, tracing the faint patterns at the edges of her vision. The candles in the chandelier reminded her vaguely of the candle the Duke had held when they’d first met.
“Ugh…” she groaned as she tried to close her eyes and block out the memories.
But the Duke’s chamber was all she could see. An image of his bare torso flashed through her mind. There was something in the air that blew a gentle heat in her chest. Her core tingled. His voice mumbled her name in her mind, and she almost felt his soft breath against her ear.
Lavinia was bewildered by this suddenfirein her heart. She was filled with a desire that was so foreign yet seemed so familiar when she thought of him. Suddenly, she wanted him close, closer than he ever had been that night or had been in the maze.
Her chest grew heavy, and her breathing quickened. She closed her eyes, picturing him. She remembered how he touched her waist. A short memory of that night sent a thrill through her. Soon, she touched the places he did. She brushed her fingers against her lips and then slowly but gently bit them. She gasped and bit her lower lip. It felt unusual but right.
“Peter,” she gasped as she imagined his bare chest.
Her hands trailed over her soft skin. It was the first time she felt like herself. It was awakening.
Lavinia imagined him touching her as she let her hands wander. Soon, she found her thighs. A different kind of heat lingered when she skimmed her thumbs over the tops of her stockings. Finally, her hands moved between her legs, her fingers softly rubbing against her sex. She panted as her fingers worked in away she had not previously dared. Then, just as suddenly as she had started this bit of exploration, she stopped.
She quickly got up from her bed, catching her breath. She knew she needed to get out and take in the air.
Lady St. Vincent was right once again; it was better to keep her distance from the rakish Duke. Whatever he was making her feel, she knew it was dangerous for her.
The sky was awfully gloomy by midday. Lavinia hoped it would not rain, as it would ruin her afternoon walk. Being outside would clear her mind of hersensual imaginings.
