Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

He was so damnably gorgeous. Even attired in a plain green jacket and buckskins, his dark beauty was enough to steal the breath of any woman.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, refusing to glance down and ensure her white muslin gown with a black ribbon threaded through the bodice and seed pearls stitched along the hem was not wrinkled from her short journey. It was bad enough her hand had already lifted to touch her curls that had been twisted into a complicated knot on top her head.

“I wished to assure myself that you were settled. I hope the chambers suit you?”

“Very much, thank you.”

His gaze shifted over her shoulder, lingering on the dresser. “You appeared to be searching for something. If there is anything you need…”

“No, I was simply assuring myself that Sophy had packed all that I requested,” she interrupted, her voice rushed.

“Ah.” His expression was impossible to read. “And did she?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“If not, you need only let me know and I shall send one of my servants to collect it for you.”

“That is very kind of you.”

A slow, tantalizing smile curved his lips. “I desire you to feel welcome at Meadowland.”

Her mouth went dry, reminding her that there was more than one danger in residing beneath the same roof as the Duke of Huntley.

“Where is Brianna?”

“Saying farewell to my brother.”

“I see. Perhaps I should say goodbye, as well.”

His wicked laugh brushed over her skin like a caress. “I doubt they would welcome the interruption at this precise moment.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Oh.”

“Hmm.” Without warning he reached to brush a finger down her cheek. “I wonder if that blush is real. Are you as innocent as you appear to be?”

She hastily backed away, not halting until her back was pressed against the carved post of the bed. A mere touch should not make her stomach clench with excitement.

“Your Grace.”

Prowling forward, the Duke did not halt until he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his body through her gown.

“My name is Stefan.” He reached to grasp the post just above her head, his brooding gaze trained on her lips. “Say it.”

A voice whispered in the back of her mind to slap his handsome face. It would be a disaster to allow this man to realize just how susceptible she was to his potent masculinity.

That voice, however, went unheeded as her body softened and her pulsed raced. How was she supposed to think when his spicy male scent was clouding her senses?

“Stefan,” she breathed.

His head dipped down to stroke his lips over the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.

“Again.”

She trembled. “Stefan.”

“Beautiful.” He gently nipped her skin, his hand skimming up the curve of her waist. “You are so beautiful.”

Her knees went weak and Leonida was forced to grasp the lapels of his jacket to keep upright.