Page 72 of The Duke of Deceit

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

With his faceburied in his pillow, Lucien opened his eyes slowly against the bright morning sunlight falling into his bedroom. He let out a breath halfway between a sigh and a yawn, then smiled as he rolled over to bring Jess back into his arms. Morning was well underway by now, and they would have to start their day soon. But for now, he simply wanted more time alone with her. And perhaps make love to her again.

But her side of the bed was empty. His heart jumped into his throat, and the last fuzziness of sleep cleared instantly from his mind.

She was gone.

He sat up and glanced around the room. His clothes lay scattered across the floor where he’d discarded them last night, but hers were gone. There was no sign she’d been there at all except for the mussed sheets that smelled deliciously of her floral scent and a small drop of blood on the counterpane where he’d taken her innocence.

Biting back a curse, he threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. This isnothow he wanted the night to end. True, he’d never been with a woman who had him wanting to linger in bed with her after dawn arrived. Hell, he’d never wanted to linger in bed with any womanbeforedawn either, feeling the need to leave as soon as their lusts had been satisfied. But with Jess, itwasn’t simple lust he’d felt, and what he desired from her was far from being satiated.

After all, he had told her…well, he’d told her what he’d never dared utter to any other woman before.

What shocked him most was that he meant it.

He was certain all kinds of confusion and uncertainties had been unleashed to churn inside her by that simple phrase, just as they had for him, but she’d silently curled up against his side, rested her head on his chest, and fallen asleep. Even when they had woken a few hours later and made love a second time—it truly was exactly that, slowly and tenderly, full of affection and heartfelt yearning to bring each other pleasure—they’d not spoken one word. Instead, they’d allowed silent touches to speak for them. Volumes, in fact.

But now she was gone, and her absence was as good as a punch in the gut for the realization that swept over him—

He didn’t want to be separated from her again.

He splashed cold water over his face and welcomed the trickle down his neck, chest, and back. A quick glance in the mirror showed a morning beard, but that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t keep any household servants here who could shave him, and he didn’t want to take the time to do it himself. Not when he needed to find Jess.

With a grimace at his appearance, he turned away to dress. He yanked on his riding clothes but left off his neckcloth, not caring if its absence made him appear rakish. After last night’s freedom, he wasn’t eager to put himself back into confining knots. Then he stomped his feet into his boots and left the room.

He paused outside the bedroom where Jess should have spent the night, rapped his knuckles lightly against the door, and waited. His heartbeat marked each passing second like a drum, only to punctuate it with a curse when she didn’t answer.

Then he heard soft voices coming from downstairs. Buttoning his waistcoat and not bothering to fetch his jacket, he hurried down in hopes of finding Jess before she did something to frustrate him further, like setting out for London before he had the chance to speak with her. They had a lot to discuss.

The voices drew him toward the drawing room, and he smiled to himself when he reached the doorway and stopped. Not wanting to interrupt the scene before him, he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and watched.

Jess and Phillip sat huddled together on the floor in the middle of the room, with large sheets of paper, colored pencils, and chalk pieces spread out around them on the rug. They were focused on their drawings, with Jess tapping her finger on Phillip’s paper as she gave him compliments and encouragement. His brother beamed proudly, then bent over his drawing and attacked it with new energy. Jess held up her blue pencil, and the two of them laughed over a private joke. Phillip held out his pencil to offer it to her, only to pull it away just as her fingers reached for it. New bursts of soft laughter followed, and Lucien’s chest tightened at the sight.

Then Phillip glanced up and caught Lucien watching them. He smiled, happy to see his brother, and tapped Jess on her arm to gain her attention.

When she followed his gaze and saw Lucien, she caught her breath, then dropped her gaze shyly back to her drawing.

“G’mornin’, Lucien,” Phillip called out to him.

“Good morning to you, too,” he replied. Then the devil inside him made him ask, “Did everyone sleep well last night?”

Jess’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t lift her gaze from the paper.

“I don’t think I slept a wink,” he murmured his continued teasing. “Did you?”

My! He hadn’t known it was possible for a woman’s face to turn that scarlet that quickly. But even embarrassed to the gills, she was beautiful.

He offered her a reprieve and changed topics. “What are you two doing?”

“We’re making pictures,” Phillip answered. “Jessamyn is teaching me how to draw!” Phillip grabbed his paper and held it up so Lucien could see it. “Flowers and trees, for now. But I’m going to draw our barn right here between the trees and then pictures of all the animals.”

“It’s going to be a grand drawing,” Lucien assured him. “Perhaps you can take art lessons along with your music lessons.”

Phillip didn’t hear. His attention had already returned to his paper as he laid it back on the floor and reached for another colored pencil.

But Lucien made a mental note to ask Mrs. Porter to inquire in the village if there were any artists living nearby who might be interested in giving lessons, just as he had for the pianoforte. Phillip would never be able to play more than simple tunes, just as he would never be able to draw anything more than basic pictures. But that wasn’t the point. What mattered was that Phillip enjoyed it.