To Pleasure a Duke (The Husband Hunters Club 3)

“Your Grace,” she said, with a little curtsey and a smile.

“Miss Belmont.” He glanced about. “Your companion is gone then?”

“You mean Mr. Fenton? Yes, he’s gone home. Did you wish to speak to him?”

As she was conversing she noticed he looked a little ragged—not his clothes, they were impeccable as always, but his demeanor. Had something occurred? Bad news regarding Terry and Annabelle? But before she could ask Sinclair spoke again.

“I believe Mr. Fenton has been calling rather often?”

That was when the idea struck her that he might be jealous. That he imagined Nicholas was pursuing her and might win her and she would be happily married to another man.

Eugenie knew she shouldn’t be pleased at the idea of the duke being so possessive of her, but she couldn’t help it. She was pleased. And she was wicked enough to want to tease him into showing his feelings.

“Yes, he has come here every day. Twice yesterday. Do you know he has the bluest eyes I have ever seen?”

Sinclair gave her a sharp glance. “Indeed. From what I saw of him they looked a little too close together for him to be trustworthy.”

“Oh no, I am sure Mr. Fenton is extremely trustworthy.”

He grunted, and she decided to postpone her game.

“Have you heard anything about the runaways?” she said anxiously.

“No.”

“Where could they have got to?” Eugenie sighed, downcast.

He reached for her hand. As he touched her she felt the tingle of attraction between them, and her blood grew warm. She tried to withdraw from his grip, but he held on, stepping closer, so that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

“I wish . . .” he began, but didn’t finish. His mouth closed tightly on whatever wishes he’d been about to share with her.

His fingers brushed across her cheek, lingering on her lips, and then he was gone.

Eugenie watched him walk away, longing for him to take her in his arms and make her body sing. It was the first time since they’d arrived that the Sinclair she knew and loved had shown himself. Yes, she loved him, she admitted bleakly. It was a love that could never have a happy ending but that did not stop her from feeling it.

He’d meant to stay away. He’d sworn he would not go near her again. But here he was, in only his breeches and stocking feet, outside her bedchamber looking down at the pale glow from under the door, like some lovesick hero in a Byronic poem.

His body trembled with need. He wanted her in his arms, his body inside hers. He couldn’t bear the thought of her with someone else—he’d been tormented by visions of her kissing that Fenton boy. His thoughts were chaotic.

He thought about knocking but it seemed ridiculous, so he simply opened the door and took a step inside her room.

She was reading, propped up with pillows, her hair loose about her shoulders and curling wildly, catching fiery light from the candles. Her skin had a soft warm hue, the shawl about her shoulders slipping to disclose a nightdress of plain white cambric.

If she was Helen of Troy he couldn’t have thought her more beautiful.

Her eyes were wide and dark. She didn’t speak and neither did he. They knew each other’s desires too well and with a need so desperate and raw there was only one way to assuage it.

He lay down beside her and blew out the candle. A moment later her hand touched his hair, fingers sliding through the thick wave at his temple, and the next moment her lips pressed to his skin.

“Sinclair . . .”

Blindly he lifted his face and found her mouth. “Don’t speak,” he muttered against her lips. “Pretend this is a dream.”

“Yes, a dream,” she breathed.

Their lips clung. He heard himself groan. Felt her arms slip about his neck as she pressed closer, the soft curves of her body melding itself to his harder angles. He curved his arm about her hips and his hand splayed over her bottom; she was so accessible without stays and petticoats. He hardly knew where to begin.

He lowered his face to her breasts, nuzzling against her, drawing up her voluminous nightgown so that he could press his skin to hers, breathe in her scent, taste her with his lips and tongue.