A Duke in Time (The Widow Rules #1) - Janna MacGregor Page 0,63
hoping you’d come sooner rather than later.”
She blushed prettily, the color reminding him of wild roses. “This is an amazing place.” She tilted her head back and studied the glass dome above them.
Christian mimicked her movement. “It’s my favorite room in the house. If I had my druthers, I’d throw out everything but this, then start anew. Come. I want to show you something.” He took her hand in his and led her down the row of red roses, then turned right until they stood in front of his worktable.
“Oh my,” she said softly. “I’ve never seen such a rose. What a stunning crimson. It’s almost burgundy.”
“It’s a Portland rose named after the Duchess of Portland. My mother collected roses, and this was one of her favorites.” He clipped off a stem with a large bloom, taking care to cut the thorns. Satisfied with his work, he handed it to her.
“It’s beautiful.” She brought it to her delicate nose and inhaled. A smile spread slowly across her lips. “How lovely.”
“Not as lovely as you,” he murmured.
Her gaze shot to his.
Christian took a step closer and rubbed the back of his forefinger slowly across one petal of the rose she held. With their heads bent together, it would have taken little effort to close the distance between them and kiss her. “You must forgive my earlier mood at your workshop. Finding out that Meriwether’s personal items had arrived made his death irrefutable, if that makes sense.”
Understanding shown in her eyes. “It must be hard to lose a sibling. I don’t know, but I’m certain it’s like a piece of your heart was chipped away.”
Her empathy was one of her most attractive strengths. Instead of refuting her, he smiled. Meri was never part of his heart. As he continued to stroke the petal’s softness, he imagined it was her skin he caressed. Each touch would teach him what she liked, what she craved from a man.
He wanted to be the man that brought forth the soft, sweet cries of ecstasy that would slip through her lips.
His nostrils flared as his body grew taut. His cock swelled at the image of him making love to her in his conservatory while discovering every secret she possessed. Each thrust slow and deliberate as he learned what she liked. The sweet fragrance of blooms and the smell of damp soil would surround them. Time would cease to exist when he pleasured her, both losing themselves in each other’s arms, not caring what day or week it was.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly.
She reached out to touch another rose in bright pink. He imagined her nipples would be the same shade, perhaps a little lighter.
Such thoughts were enough to drive a man mad.
He leaned slightly, and not touching her anywhere else, he brushed his lips against hers. The softness of her mouth would make the goose down in her workshop feel coarse in comparison.
When she gasped gently, he wrapped her in his embrace and swept his mouth against hers again. The blood in his veins pounded. All he could do was pull her closer as he deepened this kiss. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, and a small moan escaped.
That soft sound and the supple taste of her lips could bring him to his knees. Her kiss reminded him of the sweetest wine, and he drank freely. He supped on her strength, her fortitude, her kindness, and her regard for others.
It was foolhardy to be kissing her when anyone could walk in, but a small growl of need rose within his chest. This woman made him want all the wonderful things that life had to offer, like the comfort of holding another. He cradled her close with one hand, while the other traced the curve of her waist upward, counting her ribs.
She placed her hand over his and guided it to the soft mound of one perfect breast.
“Katherine,” he whispered against her lips, pulling her tighter as his cock hardened. God, it felt like heaven.
She felt like heaven.
A soft sigh escaped her, an invitation to deepen the kiss. Then she did something that made his heart stumble in its steady beat. She trailed her hand down his chest slowly until she stopped at the hem of his waistcoat.
He groaned in response, hoping she’d take it further and unbutton the falls of his breeches.
“Your Grace?” Wheatley called out from the doorway. “The tea service you ordered is in your study.” He cleared