and brushed the damp hair back from her forehead. “Ah, dutiful at last.”
He took her lips in a kiss so sweet it made Cecilia’s eyes sting, then gathered her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. She fell asleep to his hand drifting through her hair, and his heartbeat in her ear.
Chapter Twenty-three
Gideon didn’t sleep that night, but for the first time since Cassandra’s death, it wasn’t because worry and grief kept him awake, or tumbled him in and out of nightmares.
It was because he didn’t want to miss a moment of holding Cecilia in his arms.
He tucked her close, her head nestled against his shoulder and her dark hair spread in wild disarray across his chest. He stroked her back, his fingers learning the smooth, soft texture of her skin, the way her thick eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she slept.
She woke before dawn, her eyelids lifting over sleepy dark eyes.
“You’re in my bedchamber, and…my bed,” Gideon murmured as soon as she focused her drowsy gaze on him. He’d half expected her to wake in a panic, unsure where she was, but she looked far from panicking as her lips curved into a soft smile.
“I know.” Her warm breath drifted over his skin, and she trailed her soft hand down his chest, tugging gently on the whorls of dark hair there. “I remember.” Her smile turned teasing. “Did you think I could forget last night, my lord?”
That teasing smile, her heavy-lidded eyes and flushed skin, the nimble fingers stroking his chest—Gideon took a long, slow breath and prayed for strength. She wasn’t his countess yet. As far as anyone at Darlington Castle was concerned, Cecilia was still Isabella’s nursemaid, and Gideon wasn’t a gentleman who debauched his servants.
At least, he didn’t do it twice.
Cecilia, however, had other ideas. “This is very nice, right here.” She squirmed closer, her fingers playing over his chest.
Gideon caught her hand in his to still it. “What, my chest hair? You do seem fascinated with it.”
“I am. It’s softer than I would have thought. But it’s not just that.” She tugged her hand free and resumed stroking, a slow, maddening slide over his chest and down his body, her curious fingers sifting through the trail of hair under his navel. “It’s all of you. All muscle and long, elegant bones.” She traced her fingertips over his collarbones. “Every inch of you is lean and hard.”
And growing harder by the minute.
Gideon tried to hold still, but his body grew more impatient with her every slow, sweeping stroke over his eager skin. It had been so long since he’d been touched, so long since he’d held a woman’s body next to his own.
So long since he’d given up on love…
He moaned when her fingertips grazed his nipple. “Cecilia—”
She did it again, a gentle tweak that made his eyes roll back in his head. “Oh. You like that, too. I’ve never…no man has ever touched me there before.”
An instinctive growl rumbled in Gideon’s chest at the mere thought of another man touching her. “No other man ever will.”
Cecilia’s hand stilled, and she peeked up at him from under her lashes. “Is that so, Lord Darlington?”
“It is.” Gideon reached for her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
“Are you this possessive with all your servants?” She leaned over him and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest.
“No,” Gideon bit out, gritting his teeth against the pleasure of her warm lips exploring his flesh. “But it’s been some time since I regarded you as my servant, if I ever did.”
“Hmmm.” Cecilia didn’t appear to be listening to him. She nipped at his chest, pressed an experimental kiss to his nipple, then drew back to study the effect. “Oh.” Her eyes widened when it hardened, then her lips curved with an impish smile. She kissed him there again, lingering this time, then drew back and ran her thumb over the damp peak.
“Ah, God.” Gideon’s breath left his lungs in a rush, blood pooling between his legs, fierce desire unfurling in his belly. He was doing his best not to writhe under her touch, but his cock was hardening, twitching insistently against the coverlet.
Cecilia watched in fascination as the touch of her fingers and lips made it jerk and strain for her. She licked delicately at his nipple, like a cat licking up cream, tearing one low groan after another from his throat.
When she lifted her head at last, his nipple was hard and aching,