To Desire a Wicked Duke (Courtship Wars) - Page 28

Reality seemed to fade. In its place stole an intimate, overwhelming sensation. Tess felt dazed, as if she were slowly falling headlong into a vortex. She shut her eyes and swayed so weakly that Rotham had to steady her with one hand at her waist. Meanwhile, his mouth was tender fire, sending heat washing over her skin and throughout her body.

She was unaware of the passage of time, but when Rotham finally raised his head, she stood there clutching his bare shoulders.

“What more can I do to set your mind at ease?” he asked in that low, husky, tender-rough voice that stroked her senses.

Dragging her eyes open, Tess blinked up at him. His expression was gentle, his eyes as warm as she had ever seen them. She could not have spoken, though, if her life had depended on it.

When she didn’t reply, he smiled again. “We should go to bed, love.”

His suggestion was like a dousing of cold water and made Tess go rigid. Jerking her clinging hands away from his half-naked form, she took an abrupt step backward.

At her reaction, Rotham cocked his head at her. “I would never have pegged you for the craven sort.”

Tess swallowed and tried to regain her composure. She was not craven. And she refused to let her nerves get the better of her, especially in front of this man. “You are right, this is absurd.”

Turning, she moved around the end posts to the far side of the bed. She kept her back to Rotham as she shrugged out of her robe, giving him only a glimpse of her concealing nightdress. Then she climbed into the high bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.

The silence that followed was broken only by the quiet crackle of the fire and the whisper of clothing as Rotham undressed. Tes

s kept her gaze averted until she heard him moving around the room.

Wondering what he was up to, she peered over her shoulder and saw that he was putting out the lamps. Her initial glimpse of him, however, startled her. He was not wearing a dressing gown or even a nightshirt.

To her regret, she couldn’t look away. Rotham had always been fascinating and forbidden to her, and in the glow of firelight that still illuminated the bedchamber, he seemed even more so. He was virile and vital enough to make her breath catch, his nude body lean and sleek with muscle.

But of course he would be well-honed. He was a sportsman and a member of the Corinthian set, his muscles hardened by riding and fencing and amateur fisticuffs at Gentleman Jackson’s salon.

“Do you mean to sleep in the nude?” she asked in a high voice as he crossed to the bed.

“It is my custom, yes.”

His weight settled on the mattress, and the rustle of covers told her that he had claimed his side of the bed.

Several minutes passed, but although Tess shut her eyes and willed slumber to come, her tension only seemed to increase. She was as far away as she could get from her naked husband, but still he was lying not an arm’s length from her.

His nonchalance irked her somehow. Tess resented that Rotham just planned to fall asleep. But then he likely hadn’t been affected by the sensual kisses he had just given her.

After another ten minutes, her nerves had grown even more taut. Tess rolled onto her other side, trying to find a comfortable position, but comfort eluded her, as did calm.

Finally she opened her eyes. Rotham lay on his side, she saw, his back to her, his breathing even but not heavy.

“Rotham, are you asleep?” she whispered.

“No.”

She raised herself on one elbow. “Perhaps you are right—it is best to have done with it.”

“Have done with what?”

“The consummation.”

There was a long silence.

“Why?” came the brief question.

“Because then I won’t be lying here all night anticipating the worst. I wish you would just get it over with.”

“I am not going to rush the consummation, sweetheart. Not until you are ready and willing, even eager.”

Tags: Nicole Jordan Historical
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