WHISPERS IN THE DARK
An hour later
Having won two out of three of the billiards games he had played with his heir, George made his way to the library. Elkins had obviously been there, for the main overhead light had been extinguished. The only remaining light in the room came from the fireplace, where the bright orange embers bathed the reading area in a golden glow.
At first glance, the room appeared empty. He had a thought to pour a glass of brandy and sit by the dying fire, a celebration of sorts for his son’s betrothal.
His son and heir was going to marry a duke’s daughter.
He had married a marquess’ daughter.
The Bennett-Joneses were most definitely charmed in marrying above their station.
Chuckling softly, he filled a small glass from the salver on the library desk from the decanter of brandy and made his way toward the fireplace. About to sit in the single upholstered chair next to the couch, he gave a start when he realized he wasn’t alone.
Opened books still on their laps, Ertugrul and Adeline were sound asleep in each others’ arms.
Almost embarrassed at seeing how his daughter’s head rested against the sehzade’s shoulder, one hand on his thigh, George was about to look away when he noted how Ertugrul’s head rested atop hers. How his arm had wrapped around her shoulders, his hand mere inches from the side of her breast.
Adeline would never have deliberately fallen asleep in the arms of the sultan’s son, but she certainly looked comfortable. As for Ertugrul... George could only imagine what must have gone through the young man’s head when Adeline fell asleep against him.
Again.
He probably hadn’t wished to embarrass her as she had been the night before in the coach when George had been forced to awaken her upon their arrival at Bostwick House. The moment she realized where she was—leaning against Ertugrul—she covered her mouth with a silk-gloved hand as her eyes rounded and she apologized profusely.
Torn between waking her or allowing her to sleep, Ertugrul had obviously chosen to allow her to sleep.
If he thought he was being chivalrous, he obviously didn’t understand the rules of English society.
George had a thought to wake them. Had a thought that perhaps it would be best if he sent them off to bed with a gentle rebuke. Remind the sultan’s son that in any other household, he would be expected to wed his daughter—marriages had been forced for far less.
Instead, he settled back in the chair and enjoyed his brandy.
What if Ertugrul had already made his decision and had chosen Adeline to be his bride? His eventual sultana? Perhaps he was merely ensuring he’d be forced to wed her.
Charmed, indeed,George thought with a chuckle when he finally made his way to bed.
Once he was sure his host had departed the library, Ertugrul opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He was sure he’d been sound asleep when he heard nearby footfalls. He had thought to make his presence known. Rise from the couch and address the arrival to the library, but when he realized Adeline’s soft body was snuggled against his own, providing a comfortable warmth the fireplace was no longer doing, he decided to remain right where he was.
Surely if he was quiet enough, the usurper wouldn’t notice he was there. He didn’t think the top of his head extended above the carved wooden frame of the leather-upholstered couch. He heard the sound of liquid pouring into a glass, felt the soft footfalls beneath his feet, and held his breath when he knew he’d been discovered.
If it was David, he would feel his friend nudge his shoulder and tell him to wake up.
Instead, the scent of George Bennett-Jones’ cologne had wafted past his nose, and he nearly panicked. Inhaling softly, as if he were still sleeping, he had decided it best he stay right where he was. Pretend he was sleeping. Pretend he was merely trapped on the couch because Adeline had fallen asleep on him.
Again.
He had to fight the urge to grin. Fight the urge to kiss her once more. Did the young woman have any idea how much he adored holding her? How much he wished to take her to his bedchamber, place her beneath the covers, and hold her close for the rest of the night?
His cock certainly knew, for it had become uncomfortably large in the last few minutes. At least Adeline’s body mostly hid the evidence of it from view of where the viscount had sat in a nearby chair, drinking something.
Ertugrul had one time dared a peek from beneath his lashes, relieved to see George’s gaze on the contents of his glass, an expression of amusement on his face.
A moment later, and Ertugrul felt the viscount’s departing footfalls.
He inhaled with relief, the movement of his chest bringing Adeline out of her slumber.
When she glanced up at him, she grinned. “I’m having the most amazing dream,” she whispered.
