What on earth did his late wife do to him?
He might call it control, but what he truly needed was someone to trust. She was sensing his loneliness, and it drew her, because she felt that way at times, withdrawn and bleak about finding anyone to love and care for.
I’ll have to gain his trust first.
Cedric was staring out into the window; his now solitary pose made her heart twist a little. He lookedso... alone, as if he was Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she smiled behind her hand.I know what to do now.
Chapter Seventeen
Afull, plump mouth was planting soft kisses along his jaw and brushing his ear before straying down his neck.
Cedric felt his breath come faster as she ran her hands down the rigid muscles of his chest, and her tongue followed, licking fire against his nipples.
He felt his control slipping as her lips strayed down his body, and grasping her shoulders, stopping her kisses, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, caressing that soft, plumpness. He traced the outline of her mouth.
He thrust the full length of his finger into her mouth, stifling a groan as her cheeks hollowed on instinct, sucking on him. With a groan, he pulled away to cup her breasts, squeezing and kneading in such a way that had her moaning.
He smoothed his hands over her breasts and hips and dipped lower to cup her bottom before she sank between his legs, and she touched his thickened length.
The gentle strokes made his blood roar, and when her lips parted and set her mouth on him, fire raced up his spine— and he jolted awake with a gasp.
“Damnation,” he swore and rubbed his eyes.
As his vision began to settle and the heat surging through his blood began to fade, he was acutely aware of the thickness in his trousers. Sighing, he rolled over the lumpy couch and pulled the thick blanket more securely around him.
He had fallen asleep in his study again, the third time this week. It had been five days since the outing at the stables, and not only had he been swamped with work, but thoughts of his new wife constantly shoved work out of the way.
At that moment, he did not want to face another day at the study or being called out to the town to see his steward. All he wanted to do was to fall back asleep and into the arms of the dream minx teasing him with unholy kisses.
Eventually, he had to go to the bathing room to clean up. Cedric remained standing, his hands braced upon the desk and stared at his reflection in the oval, bronze-rimmed mirror.
His hand rose, unsteady, until his fingertips pressed against the ridged flesh that dragged from temple to jaw. The mirror above the fireplace reflected every tiny spec of his horror: the puckered skin, the warped edge of his mouth, the coarse texture of his skin that no physician’s balm had ever softened.
“Grotesque,” His voice rasped with a bitterness sharpened by years of rehearsal.
Stepping away, he headed to his bedroom to change clothes, only to return to his study and call for coffee. Flipping the pages of another law book, he tried to find the reference for the lords abusing their power over tenants, when a knock came on his door.
“Enter,” he called even while his eyes were down on the book.
“Ahem,” Ariadne cleared her throat, and he looked up to see her holding a tray with two covered plates on it.
He frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I want to share breakfast with you,” she said, the morning light catching upon the pale blue silk of her gown.
“I do not eat?—”
“Full meals for breakfast,” she interrupted him. “I know. And that needs to change. It is not healthy, and you cannot survive on coffee and toast, Cedric. You need to eat.”
He reached for his book again, slightly miffed that he had lost his train of thought. “I will eat later.”
“Do you allow Emily to skip her meals?” Ariadne asked.
“No, I do not,” he said. “Her health would be impacted and—” mid-sentence, he realized he was proving her point and trapped, he could only drop his pen, lean back into his chair, and eye her.
Her innocent expression was just a touch too innocent. Snorting, he said, “I don’t eat in my study.”
