Page 81 of Yours Truly, the Duke
Lifting her head, Fredericka looked up at him with contentment. “It’s wonderful being close to you.”
“Do you know how many times I looked at you tonight and wanted to kiss you?”
A smile twitched at the corners of her beautiful mouth. “Did you keep count of the number so you could tell me?”
He whispered a laugh, slid his hands underneath hercape, circled her waist with his arms, and caught her tightly to his chest once again. “I stopped at a thousand. After that, I kept looking for a secluded corner where I could escape with you and do this.”
Without another word, without a pretense of being gentle to her proper sensibilities, Wyatt pressed his lips upon hers and kissed with the hunger he’d felt for her all night. There was no caution in her reaction. Her lips were warm, smooth, and tenderly moist. She accepted and returned each kiss, matching his fervor. His tongue slipped in and out of her mouth with tempting little strokes of pleasure, each one shooting desire through his loins like fireworks into a dark sky. She swallowed small gasps of satisfaction as he explored the depths, letting him know she was as eager as he was.
He shoved his hands up her back and pressed her tighter against him. Their kisses were long and more generous with each second that passed. Rapid breaths, heated sighs, and soft moans of passion mingled easily, becoming one passionate purr the two shared.
When Fredericka lifted her arms and circled his neck, her cape parted and the sides fell to the back of her shoulders. His hands slid around to her breasts and cupped them, pushing more of their fullness from the confines of her low-cut gown. A rush of desire exploded between his legs at the sweet touch of her bare skin.
Fredericka sucked in a deep rapid breath too, letting him know she desired this intimacy with him. The tremble of her body almost drove him to the edge as he caressed her softness, kissed her neck and chest, and pressed his lower body against hers.
He bent his head to taste the—
“Auntie.”
Wyatt jerked like the blast of a ball from a pistol. He swirled around, doing his best to shield Fredericka behind him. Bella stood halfway down the darkened stairs.
Hellfire, that was close. He’d forgotten children were in the house. Fredericka could make him forget everything. He’d never breathed so hard and deep, but wanting to give Fredericka time to recover from the near disaster, he managed to ask calmly, “What is it, Bella?”
She rubbed her eyes with her fists. “I had a bad dream.”
Bad dreams were not uncommon at Eton. When boys had them, they were told to buck up and go back to sleep. “Snuggle back under the covers and you’ll be fine,” Wyatt said to Bella. Hearing Fredericka’s deep intake of breath as she swept up beside him, he knew that wasn’t what should be said to a young girl.
“I’ll handle this,” she whispered. “Bella isn’t prone to bad dreams. I wonder what’s wrong?” She started up the stairs. “Perhaps you only need me to sing to you. Do you think that will make you sleepy?” Fredericka bent down to Bella’s level and pulled her close. “Tell me what kind of bad dream you had, my darling?”
“The ghost story Uncle Your Grace told me and Charles in his book room this afternoon.”
“What?” Fredericka whirled back to Wyatt. “A ghost story? To a five-year-old?”
“No.” Wyatt strode to the bottom of the stairs. “I mean yes. I told them a story, but it wasn’t about a ghost. Just a shadow. A small one.”
“It was following a little boy in a boneyard,” Bella whimpered. “He couldn’t get away and was afraid it would pull him into the grave and eat him.”
Wyatt thought Fredericka’s eyes might pop out of herhead as she looked at him with astonishment. The story did sound more horrific coming from a little girl’s voice.
“A ghost in a cemetery, and a little boy!” Fredericka exclaimed. “Wyatt, what were you thinking?”
“They were loving the story when I was telling it,” he insisted. “It wasn’t scary. It was a harmless little shadow. They wanted to hear gory—but didn’t. I mean—no—”
“Never mind,” she said rigidly as she rose, her arms still wrapped tightly around Bella. “You’ve said enough, and I will thank you not to be telling any of the children more stories.”
Damnation.
Wyatt strode to the book room with fast, heavy stomps. Not bothering to light a lamp, he poured himself a splash of brandy and took a long burning sip that ended with a gasp, a sigh, and a wince. Then he took another and started pacing back and forth in front of the desk.
What had he been thinking earlier? Maybe his father was right after all and a wife couldn’t be pleased. Maybe Fredericka had been a bother to him from the moment he’d met her. It appeared he’d done a damn poor job of pleasing her ever since she’d come to London.
But he still wanted her. He enjoyed being with her. Yes, he said and did everything wrong, but the truth was he liked the way she bothered him. She was gorgeous and invigorating when upset, shooting daggers with her eyes that sparkled like dewdrops in sunlight. They twinkled when teasing him. Which she did with great relish and he accepted with ravishing hunger. He even liked it when she got the best of him as she had the afternoon she met Rick and Hurst.
Wyatt shed his evening coat and started pulling at his neckcloth. Once he untied it he threw it aside and sent his collar down on top of it.
There had been a few missteps along their way. Referring to the children as wooden soldiers had upset her after only five minutes in her presence. That was a bad start. It made her livid, he remembered as he unbuttoned his waistcoat.
The pillow fort hadn’t been his best idea, nor had what led up to the incident in the park. That could have gone really badly. And no more ghost stories for sure. But there had been deliciously inviting and stimulating times. Kissing in the secluded warmth of his book room late at night when he was deadly tired but heavy with desire to have her beneath him. He’d wanted her so badly it was almost more than he could bear. Being so wrapped up in the joy and passion of kissing her with such uninhibited freedom in the garden that neither of them felt the rain gently sprinkling their hair, faces, and clothing was something he’d never forget.
