Romancing the Duke (Castles Ever After #1)(63)

She slipped away from him, hastening down the stairs.

He let her go.

She had no expectations of him.

Truly, none?

Did she really think he would make love to her last night, and then want to go on today as if nothing had happened at all?

Well, of course she believed that. Why wouldn’t she? She’d spent the past few weeks reading through abundant evidence of just such behavior. By now, she was intimately acquainted with his history, his temperament, all his vices and faults. He’d done nothing but underscore the impression with boorish behavior and the occasional groping. Add to everything the fact that he was a scarred, blinded wretch.

And then, last night, he’d taken her virtue—without so much as the mention of marriage, or even any promises beyond the one night’s pleasure.

Naturally, she had no expectations.

He supposed that meant one thing.

If he wanted any chance of keeping her, Ransom would have to come up with some surprises.

Izzy needed the comfort of familiar tasks this morning. Too many aspects of her world had altered since yesterday. She was no longer a virgin. She was a bit sore between her legs. Her heart was raw and tender.

In sum, she ached all over.

What did last night mean to him? What did it mean to her?

She was afraid to ask those questions. She would rather linger in this giddy ignorance a while longer.

All these stretched and vulnerable parts of her needed some time to recover, that was all. And then Izzy could take a deep breath and a good, hard look at herself.

“You started without me?”

Then she looked up and saw him. The air vacated her lungs. Her grip tightened on her pen.

Snap, went the quill.

Thud, went her heart.

No man should be this handsome. It just wasn’t fair. He entered the great hall, wearing a clean, open-necked shirt tucked into gray trousers. His hair was still damp at the temples, but the sunlight found the streaks of gold in his brown hair and teased her with them.

With effort, Izzy tore her gaze away and attempted to concentrate on the task at hand. It was rather like trying to work with a small, glowing sun in the room. Struggle as she might to avoid looking directly at him, she couldn’t escape his intensity and heat. Much less her memories of last night. Perspiration beaded between her br**sts.

“This morning,” she said, clearing her throat, “we must settle down to business. No more going through every paper and sorting them into piles. I’ve read enough by now that I can tell Significant from Insignificant at a glance. We need to start making meaningful progress through this heap.”

“Why the rush?” He didn’t settle in his usual place on the sofa. Instead, he came to stand at her shoulder. “You’ve been purposely delaying thus far. More days of work means more money for you.”

Yes, but that was before. Before she’d realized something was amiss in these papers and before she cared enough about him to want it sorted out.

Something was wrong here.

“We need to find all the envelopes from your solicitors.” She handed him an envelope, moving his thumb over the lumpy wax holding it closed. “They always use the same seal. You can find them by touch.”

He cast the envelope aside. “I’d rather be touching you.”

He moved behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and kneading her tensed muscles.

“Relax,” he murmured. “We don’t have to do this right now.”

“Yes. We truly do. I’ve been growing quite concerned.”

“Don’t be concerned.” He kissed her just beneath the ear. “Izzy, I don’t want you to worry about anything.”

Her knees went to jelly again. She braced one palm flat on the table, leaning her weight on it for strength.

“Here’s a letter from the solicitors. I should sit down and read it.” She reached for her usual seat.

He slid his arm around her waist and kicked the chair away. “Not yet.”

“It is possible to read standing, you know.”

“It’s possible to do a lot of things standing.” He left a trail of kisses down the nape of her neck. His hands caressed her hips.

She laughed nervously. “I don’t know what to make of you this morning. Where’s the surly man who greets the dawn with a curse? What about ‘Good grief, Goodnight’? Where are those charming maritime endearments?”

He pulled on a lock of her hair. “Octopus.”

“Well, that’s all wrong. You said it so fondly.”

She made her voice chastening, but secretly, she was elated. Apparently, whatever it was between them, he wanted it to last longer than the one night.

She broke the envelope’s seal and began to read. “It’s dated three months ago. It begins, ‘May it please Your Grace—’ ”

“What was that?” he murmured. “Repeat it for me. Just those last three words.”

The last three words? Izzy consulted the paper. “Please Your Gra—” Oh, the shameless rogue. She gave in. “Please, Your Grace.”

“With pleasure.” He slipped one hand to cup her breast. The other delved under her skirts.

“Ransom,” she chided. “Someone could come in at any moment.”

“Yes. They could. That’s what makes it so exciting.”