Ten Things I Hate About the Duke - Loretta Chase Page 0,99
not remotely ready to marry.”
He oughtn’t to tempt the devil in him again, but he laid his hand—lightly, lightly—over the coppery curls, which he ought to have left untouched. But he had no regrets, either. She was as open and direct in lovemaking as in all else, and what man could ask for more than that? He knew beyond any question that he’d given her pleasure, and he felt smug about it. His own physical release could wait. “And this?” he said.
“Certainly not. Are you mad? How could I regret such a thing? I only regret not having experienced it sooner and often.”
“With me.”
She shrugged and smiled the smallest smile, the slightest upturn of her lips.
“With me,” he repeated.
She lifted an eyebrow.
“Because,” he said, “other fellows won’t do it, you know. They’re not depraved enough. So it’s me or nothing.”
She laughed and sat up and threw her arms about his shoulders. “Thou amuseth me, sir.”
“Yes, well, I’m an amusing fellow, everybody says. But we’ve had our fun for tonight and greatly as I regret it, we must get you dressed and home.”
Her grey eyes widened. “Home.”
She looked wildly about her, and at last her gaze lit on the clock on the chimneypiece. She let out a long, unsteady breath. “Not so late, then. It felt— It was like a long, beautiful dream. And the windows are fully dark. But now I must wake up.”
She started to get up from the sofa, but he signaled her to stay where she was. He drew down the shirt to cover her, more or less. He collected her garments and brought them to the sofa and played valet, restoring trousers and stockings, waistcoat and coat.
“This is exciting,” he said, as he slid her foot into a shoe. “I’ve never dressed a man before. Don’t even dress myself, generally.”
“I’m not a man. I thought you’d noticed that about me.”
“That’s why it’s exciting,” he said. “If you were a man, and if I were your valet—oh, no. Doesn’t do to think of that. Sommers’s life is not an easy one. Still, we’d better tackle the neckcloth. Now you may stand.”
She rose from the sofa, and his insides did odd things, as though a team of jugglers tossed them about, while his unsatisfied cock bounded up, ever hopeful.
She was a young man again, but she wasn’t remotely a man. She was unmistakably Cassandra Pomfret, who laid all her cards on the table, and who’d taken a shocking risk to make sure he knew she loved him—and why.
The thought made him want to cry and to laugh at the same time. And to throw her down on the sofa and have an early wedding night. He made do with a smile.
“A neckcloth is no joking matter,” she said. “I had only the one, and you’ve no idea the palpitations I underwent, terrified I’d spoil it beyond help. As to help, I had no diagrams, only Hyacinth to guide me, and the two of us in terra incognita, with only the dimmest recollection of our brothers’ convolutions to guide us.”
“I’d trust Sommers with my life, but the sight of this neckcloth would cut him to the quick.” Holding the midpoint of the cloth at the front of her throat, Ashmont brought one end round the back of her neck to the front, then brought the other end round in the opposite direction. “Not enough starch, to begin with. But it would have been limp by now in any event, which leaves only one choice: the waterfall or coachman’s knot.” It was the simplest of cravat-tying methods.
“From what you’ve said about your valet and what I overheard this evening, he seems to be highly strung. Was he always that way or is it you?”
“From what I’ve seen, these fellows come either highly strung or unexcitable.” He brought the neckcloth round again. “He’s the former, to be sure. But when it comes to what I may and may not wear, he’s a terror. Won’t let me leave the house if I’m not up to snuff. Chin up.”
She lifted her chin. “Yet he let you out in that drab—for you—suit of clothes yesterday.”
“I explained where I was going and said it was delicate, and he did his best to accommodate.”
Ashmont set about creating the allegedly simple knot. He bungled it, because this wasn’t another fellow he was helping, and because he’d already had his hands on the magnificent female form underneath the masculine attire, and his hands wanted to go back there.