Lily and the Duke (Sex and the Season #1)(63)

“I’ll go to my own chamber.”

“Very well then. I’ll escort you. Come on.”

He helped her up and took her up the back stairwell to her chamber on the second floor of the east wing. He leaned down, kissed her virtuously on the mouth, and opened the door for her.

Lily looked in quickly. Rose hadn’t yet returned. She grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled him inside the room, flinging her arms around his neck. She kissed him as though it were her first taste of his maleness, exploring him with her tongue, tasting him, savoring him. She wanted him badly. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, and maybe, on his way to London tomorrow, he might think of her.

He responded with a fiery passion. She pressed her breasts against his hard chest and tugged his hair out of the queue so she could thread her fingers through it. He moved forward, their mouths clamped together, until her back was against the wall. Gently he separated her legs with his thigh. She rubbed her sex against him as his lips moved from her mouth to her ear, her neck, down between her breasts, which were swollen, tingling, and nearly bursting from her gown. He released one rosy globe from captivity and feasted on her nipple, covering it with wet kisses that landed like a flash of lightning between her legs. Her heart thumped against her chest, and moisture trickled in her drawers.

When Daniel returned to her mouth she fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him as close as she could as they kissed. They were both panting when Lily finally broke away. She hoped it was enough for him to forego his visit to his mistress on the morrow.

“Are you certain you don’t want to come to bed with me?”

No, she wasn’t certain at all. “Yes.” Her voice cracked. “I-I just wanted a good night kiss.”

“Dear God, Lily. Please. I’m aching for you.” His voice was full of passion and smoke as he pressed his forehead to the wall, aligning his head with hers. His hard cock prodded against her belly.

Her eyes misted with tears. She had made a terrible mistake. Now he was aching for her, and he would ease his hunger elsewhere on the morrow.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t cry. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” He brushed a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb.

“I’m just tired. Good night. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, I guess.” She nudged him toward the door, gave his hand a squeeze, and closed the door silently. Then she threw herself onto her bed and wept into her pillow.



* * *



Thomas walked to the bachelor house, having escorted Emma to her chamber. Amelia Gregory, several yards ahead, walked toward him.

“Good evening, my lord,” she said when she crossed his path.

“My lady, what are you doing out at this hour unescorted?”

“Dear me,” she said. “I’m afraid I shall never get used to this large estate. I seem to have taken a wrong turn. And you’re right. It is late and I shouldn’t be about alone. Could I trouble you to see me to my chamber?”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure.” Thomas offered his arm.

Lady Gregory looked gorgeous in a pale tan ball gown that enhanced her shapely figure. Her dark hair had been swept up, braided, and fell in loops down her back. He took her to the door of her chamber and bid her good night.

“Won’t you come in?” she said. “I have some wonderful Armagnac. It was a favorite of Frederic’s, God rest his soul. I would so like to thank you for your chivalry.”

A night cap sounded good, and Thomas did enjoy a good brandy. What would be the harm? “Thank you, my lady. I would be obliged.”

She led him to a small table near the window of her chamber and bade him sit down. She brought a bottle and two snifters to the table.

“Allow me.” Thomas poured the dark golden liquid into the glasses and warmed one in his hand before giving it to her.

Amelia picked it up, swirling the fluid daintily, and brought it to her lips. “Shall we toast to your sister’s impending nuptials?”

“By all means. Lily has done well for herself.”

“I should say so. Landing the most eligible bachelor in England in a mere three days. One might think…”

“One might think what?”

“Oh, nothing,” Amelia said. “I’d much rather talk about you.” She took another sip of the Armagnac. “Why hasn’t a handsome eligible bachelor like yourself settled down?”

“I’m not quite as old as Lybrook yet.”

“Of course not. But your father no doubt has impressed upon you the importance of siring an Ashford heir, has he not?”

Thomas sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid he has. But he was two years older than I when he married my mother, so he can’t get too excited about it yet.” He took another sip. “My lady, this is excellent.”

“Yes, my Frederic adored it,” Amelia said. “Tell me, do you have anyone in mind for the position?”

“What position?”

“The position of mother to your heir, of course.”

Thomas nearly choked on the brandy. “Well…I haven’t given it a great deal of thought, to tell you the truth.”

“Of course. A man like you doubtless enjoys his freedom.”

Thomas grinned. “I won’t deny it.”