Page 22 of The Duke's Only Desire

Chapter Five

Ravenscroft Manor

Five days later

Sophie felt awarm softness engulf her. A pleasant darkness that made opening her exhausted eyes impossible.

Allof her was exhausted, with her limbs pleasantly numb and boneless as the weight of her body pressed down into the cloud beneath her. A bed of down, as if nestled against a giant mother goose. Fuzzy sensations swirled through her as she danced on the verge of sleepy unconsciousness. She had felt as if she had been lifted through the air to take flight to heaven, only to sink even deeper into the softness surrounding her and the darkness that soothed her tired body and mind. Someone had touched her hair, loosened her bodice and stays until she was free of the tightness, then covered her with layers of heavy warmth.

And then, she’d experienced that old dream she hadn’t had for years, the one of kissing Shay. But this time, it was different.

This time, she wasn’t standing within the circle of his arms; she was lying down, falling away into the night’s shadows, and stopped from sinking away completely by black clouds of utter softness rising up beneath her. She could feel the silkiness of his hair sifting through her fingers, could smell the heady scent of cigars, cognac, leather, and musky man that filled her senses,heard a low groan of surrender. But this time, when his lips touched hers, she tasted…pain.

She jolted fully awake.

Her eyes flew open, only to cringe beneath the bright sunlight that came in through the window despite the drawn draperies. For a moment, she didn’t move and simply let her blinking eyes drift around the unfamiliar yet grand room where she found herself.

Wherever she was, it certainly wasn’t a posting inn. Then she realized…Ravenscroft Manor.

The bedroom was large, two bays wide with tall windows dressed in thick drapes that matched the ones on the four-poster bed where she lay, but it was a woman’s room, clearly, with its soft creams and floral patterns. Even the wallpaper was feminine, undoubtedly hand painted to resemble a verdant garden at the height of its bloom, with pink roses twining among green ivy and white peonies. The bed’s drapes, fashioned of cream-colored velvet and tied back with braided gold cord, matched those on the windows, with brightly colored fringed pillows on the two chairs in front of the marble fireplace. She knew without having to put down a foot that the rug was just as luxurious as it looked.

Still, despite the flowery cheeriness of the décor, there was a dated quality to the room, an unlived-in feel that made it seem colder than it was…although the cool air that tickled at her bare arms once she slid out from beneath the thick blankets and coverlet was certainly cold enough on its own.

Bare arms.Sophie grimaced. Her dream of kissing Shay hadn’t been a dream at all.

He must have carried her up to her room from the carriage and once again undressed her, so carefully that he hadn’t even jostled her awake, then put her to bed. But this time, she knew,he had allowed himself to steal a kiss. She didn’t know whether to be furious or pleased.

She crossed to the window and tossed open the drapes. Cold air rushed over her, and so did the thrill of the view.

A thick blanket of snow stretched from the house to the smooth hills on the horizon, lying beneath a sky so clear and blue that it hurt her eyes. So did the bright sunlight reflecting off the whiteness that made the wintry day seem warmer than it actually was. The sun, high in the sky—confirmed by a quick glance over her shoulder at the mantel clock—told her the morning had long ago passed and the time was well after noon.

She’d slept away the day. But then, shehadbeen exhausted. Last night, Shay had decided to take the risk of driving on through the night under the light of the full moon because Ravenscroft wasn’t far away and he was anxious to be home. She’d fallen into a deep sleep in the carriage, so very tired after five days of near nonstop travel and four sleepless nights of staring at the ceiling, waiting, and wondering if her husband would come to her bed. He never did.

The door opened, and she spun around in expectation. “Shay?”

A little housemaid froze in the doorway, like a doe caught by the hounds. Then she set down the pails she carried in each hand and dropped a quick curtsey. “Pardon me, miss—I mean, Your Grace.” Her face turned red. “His Grace tasked me with preparing a bath for you in your dressing room.” She nodded toward a door on the other side of the room. “Should I, ma’am?”

“Please.”

The maid scurried into the dressing room. Through the doorway, Sophie could see a large bathtub set up in the middle of the room into which the maid added the two buckets of steaming water, then dribbled in lavender oil and bath salts. A large fluffytowel sat folded on a stool, and the maid slung a robe across the end of the tub where a pair of slippers waited on the floor.

The maid came back into the bedroom and bobbed another curtsey. “His Grace asked me to serve as your lady’s maid until your own arrives in a few days with the rest of the luggage.”

“I would like that.” She smiled to put the girl at ease. She could only imagine the gossip swirling through the household staff to find their hermit bachelor’s estate set on its ear with the unexpected arrival of a new duchess, one they had absolutely no knowledge of how to please. One they hadn’t even known existed. “What is your name?”

“Darla,” she answered, having no idea that a lady’s maid was referred to by her last name. But then, there had been no need for a lady’s maid at Ravenscroft Manor for the last two decades because there had been no lady.

Darla started into another bobbing curtsey, only for Sophie to rush forward to take her arm and stop her. “Please—you don’t have to be so formal with me.” At the maid’s puzzled look, she added, “All that curtsying makes me nervous. A simple smile or nod in greeting will do.”

“Oh, yes, miss! I mean—Your Grace.” That nervous spillage was promptly followed by another dip into yet another curtsey.

Sophie bit back a grin. “So if my dressing room is there…” She gestured toward a second door leading off her bedroom. “What’s through that door?”

Confusion darkened Darla’s face. “Why, that’s His Grace’s bedroom, ma’am.”

A jolt shot through her. Of course it was. These rooms must have belonged to the duchess, and she was now duchess. Which meant Shay’s rooms would be next to hers. She knew that’s how grand country houses were arranged, but she hadn’t let herself consider the reality of exactly what that meant. Until now.

“Shall I help you, ma’am, or would you like to bathe on your own?”