The Duchess Gamble (All's Fair in Love and Racing Book 2) by Sofie Darling

Author:Sofie Darling [Darling, Sofie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2023-11-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

He’d been about to touch her.

Celia’s skin had gone alight with the certainty.

She’d no choice but to put a stop to it.

She took two necessary steps backward, returned to her dressing table, and began busying herself with… nothing of import. Moving a brush from one side of the table to the other. Gathering hair pins into a tidy pile. It was the appearance of industry.

She couldn’t let another touch happen—not again.

For she couldn’t be held responsible for what would follow.

“If you open the bottom drawer of the wardrobe,” she called over her shoulder, “you’ll find a blanket.”

Behind her, heavy footsteps crossed the room and a drawer opened and closed, followed by a soft shushing sound as heavy wool dropped to the floor.

“And I’ll need you to turn around while I, erm…” It would sound suggestive any way she said it. “Disrobe.”

More shuffling of feet. “My back is to you.”

As Celia freed gown buttons and let the garment fall to her feet, she didn’t need to check that he was keeping his word.

Somehow, in these last few weeks, this duke had become a man she could trust.

The very thought had the nerves jangling through her veins.

For in trusting him, she found she could trust herself less.

It was the way she reacted to him. Take now, for instance. She’d wanted with all her being to kiss him again.

With a few tugs of the ties, her stays came loose. She folded the garment and set it on a stool. Stockings discarded and tucked away, she pulled on her dressing robe over her chemise. When she turned, she found he, too, had made himself more comfortable, having shed his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and boots.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, with a return to formality.

“Not at all,” she replied, equally formal, recognizing that formality was their best hope for the long night to come.

Here they were.

Two people locked in a room.

A bedroom.

A single candle lit, its flickering light warm and inviting.

Two people who knew intimacies about one another.

Two people who might like each other.

Two people who had kissed.

Two people who wanted to do it again.

Her gaze fell to the open V of his shirt. A fuzz of light hair… the shadowy hint of muscles. And lower… his shirt tucked into the waistband of his trousers, no hint of excess around his middle. Of course, there wouldn’t be. And lower still, well… thighs.

In an attempt to shake all thoughts of his thighs away, she again busied herself, this time grabbing the candlestick and crossing the room to her…

Oh.

Bed.

She carefully set it on the nightstand and considered the bed before her.

She was supposed to lay there and… sleep?

With him but a few feet away on the floor?

She swiveled around. She couldn’t look at the bed.

Of course, that left her looking at him.

Which was worse.

He’d taken a seat in an armchair, legs sprawled before him to accommodate his…

Thighs.

Thighs that would surely haunt her dreams.

Before she could ask, he said, “This will do for me.”

Formal. Honorable. Trustworthy.

She was coming to appreciate all those qualities about this man, she was.

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