Her heart softened. "I only wanted to find my husband."
"And you have."
Their eyes met. The distance between them disappeared without thought as Damien leaned forward. He paused just long enough to give her every opportunity to pull away.
She did not. Instead her lips parted with invitation.
Seraphine scarcely knew what to do with herself as Damien remained on top of her. The flickering firelight danced across his strong jaw, whilst his attention rested entirely upon her. She had never before been the sole focus of a gentleman's quiet care, and certainly never a husband's. The intimacy of such a moment somehow unsettled her far more than any grand declaration ever could.
"You will drive me mad," Damien said, looking at her.
His voice was calm, though his eyes betrayed a desire she had rarely seen.
Seraphine swallowed before answering. "I will?" she asked with a shy smile.
His lips curved faintly. "I want to touch you, Duchess of Wexford. I want to taste you."
She gasped. "Then do it."
His hand moved with measured care, down the side of her body onto her leg and pulled the fabric up inch by inch. Every movement remained slow, caressing, never hurried.
Seraphine felt an unexpected heat spread through her, not merely where he touched her, but somewhere much deeper. A throbbing between her thighs.
She drew a slow breath. It astonished her how such a simple gesture could awaken feelings she had never known before.
Her pulse fluttered in quiet confusion, and she found herself studying the dark strands of his hair as he concentrated upon what he was doing. There was strength in his hands, certainly, but also remarkable restraint. He treated her as though she was something precious that might break if handled carelessly.
With a sudden movement he began to kiss her hungrily, devouring her. She arched up to meet that kiss. He groaned into her mouth.
She felt the peaks of her breast pressing against the night dress. One hand rubbed up and down her bare thigh, while the other held his weight above her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Seraphine's pulse fluttered as Damien's lips brushed her forehead with unexpected tenderness. The gesture was so gentle that it caught her entirely off guard. For a man who carried himself with such rigid control, there was remarkable care in every movement he made, and somehow that unnerved her more than any bold declaration ever could.
He stepped behind her and placed a kiss lightly upon her shoulders. "May I?" he asked quietly, waiting for her answer rather than assuming it.
She gave the smallest nod. "You may."
His lips worked slowly along her neck and shoulders. The warmth of his hands seeped through the fabric of her dressing gown, coaxing tense muscles into reluctant surrender. Seraphine closed her eyes for only a moment before opening them again, unwilling to appear completely overcome.
"I must taste you," Damien whispered, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.
She smiled faintly. "I... I…"
"Let me show you," his voice was thick with lust.
Those words lingered in the quiet room. Somehow, they meant more than an elaborate compliment ever could.
As his careful touch continued across her body, Seraphine became acutely aware of every small detail about him. His broad frame filled the room with quiet certainty. Dark hair fell untidily across his brow, and his usually stern green eyes had become bright with lust. The formidable Duke of Wexford appeared, for once, simply to be a man desiring his wife.
Her heart took over before her mind could intervene.
He sat her down and knelt before her. He looked up at her with unmistakable restraint.
"May I show you?" he asked.
She hesitated, suddenly shy beneath his attentive gaze. "You will be gentle?" she asked, unable to suppress a nervous smile.
