Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

A fter the maid had helped Gemma into her nightgown, she slipped under the sheets and hugged a pillow to her chest.

She had not met many men before, but she could wager that the Duke was unique. He made her feel in ways that sparked opposing frissons of delight and alarm.

For so long she had been the sole master of her emotions; she hadn’t recognized how hard it had been to hold them in. Now, simply letting go of the tight rein had lightened her heart. With his persistence and tenderness, he was slowly teaching her to trust.

It doesn’t harm his cause that he is as handsome as a prince. .

As she tried to drift off to sleep, the constant rumbles and crashes of thunder kept her awake until she gave up on the possibility, donned her robe, picked up a lamp, and headed to the library.

The room was dark and cloaked in shadows that danced across the ceiling. Before she found a bookshelf to inspect, or took a chosen book to the reading nook, she stopped in front of a large glass-paned window.

Trees were bowing under the force of the wind, their leaves dark against the inky sky. Each time the lightning flashed and lit up the sky, she could see the silver edges of the storm clouds and the sliver of moon behind them.

Gemma turned away from the spectacle and began to search the shelves for a book that would be of interest to her. She spotted Troilus and Criseyde, A Poem, and Tragic Love Story.

That sounded interesting, but as was the case with A Thousand and One Nights, the book was several inches above her reach.

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” she grumbled, while looking around. “What should I do?”

There were some ottomans nearby, but they appeared too heavy to lift, and she would never desecrate books by piling them up and standing on them.

“Remind me to get a step ladder made for you,” the Duke’s smoky voice caused her to leap a foot into the air.

Pressing a hand to her pounding heart, Gemma stuttered. “Y-you scared me, Your Grace.”

Silently, he plucked the book from the shelf and handed it to her. “I suppose you are unable to sleep?”

“I cannot,” she fingered the book’s spine. “I assume you could not rest either?” Her eyes dipped to his feet. “And neither could Remus.”

“He becomes very nervous around loud noises,” Frederick dropped a hand to his dog’s head. “Now, find a seat for us. I will be a moment.”

Surprised that he wanted to sit with her, she moved to one of the couches near the coffee table and sat the lamp on an end table. She cracked open the first page and squinted at the lines.

Troilus’s double sorrow for to tell, he that was son of Priam King of Troy, and how, in loving, his adventures fell from grief to good, and after out of joy, my purpose is, before I make envoy.

Tisiphone, do you help me, so I might pen these sad lines, that weep now as I write.

“I may have made a mistake by choosing this,” Gemma said, debating whether to return it and find something lighter.

Frederick sat down beside her and asked, “what do you mean by that?”

“It seems to be a sad tale,” she said. “I would rather not read something that might make me cry.”

His laugh was low and almost sardonic as he flipped through the pages. “True love does not always end happily.”

She met his gaze, curiosity sparking. “What makes you say that?”

He hesitated, the corners of his mouth twitching in a wry smile. “Experience, I suppose. I have seen the power of what true love can do, but I have also seen how easily it can fade.”

“How—how did you come to know that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He paused, his expression inscrutable. “Let us just say that I have been around long enough to know that happy endings belong in books. Forgive me if I sound a bit jaded, but I assure you, I am not.”

Lips tight, she retracted her hand. “Have you… have you ever fallen in love?”

“No,” he said. “Finding someone to love seems to be in poor quantity these days. In my station, all they see is unimaginable wealth and luxury.”

A blistering thunderstroke caused her to jump. Frederick wrapped one arm around her shoulder.

His voice was as soothing as it had been when he’d calmed her down at the table. “Easy there. No need to jump out of your skin.”

Surrounded by his warmth, she felt the same security she’d felt before. “It is just thunder. We are fine.”

Still apprehensive, she looked over her shoulder but found that she came too close to his cheek for comfort.

Swallowing, she said, “you are a good man. How is it that you have not found someone to love?”

“I am not overly obsessed with finding such a thing,” he said. “What about you? I know you have lived in a place where such desires are forbidden, but you are still of the fairer sex. Do you want a husband?”

“You tease me, sir,” she shook her head. “I will not deny I have thought about it, but I doubt I will ever marry. What sort or lady would you like to be your wife?”

“Someone thoughtful and kind,” he said. “I would rather settle for a marriage of peaceful cohabitation than one of wild emotions. Unfortunately, the ladies I have met and kissed are only after a title and not much else.”

Hearing him mention kissing other women tempted Gemma to pull away but she did not, and pressed closer to his side. Maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was the closeness and intimacy, but she could not definitively answer why she asked, “have you ever kissed someone who was not after a title?”

“No.”

Her heart hammered and the boldness in her took over. “Would you like to?”

“Miss Bradford,” his tone was commanding, and it sent tremors down her spine. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

Yes, dear God. I so desperately want you to kiss me again.

Yet, upon hearing it from his lips, Gemma felt completely mortified and pulled away, her skin burning from the tips of her hair to the bottom of her slippers.

Although she herself was a lady—or at least she used to be, before her mother abandoned her—she realized that, indeed, she was indirectly referring to herself.

Unable to look at him, she stood up and tried to run from the room, but his hand wrapped around her wrist and held her back.

She kept her eyes turned away from him, praying that a hole in the floor would open and swallow her whole.

“Gemma,” his tone was firm and unrelenting. When he spoke her name she could not refuse him. She turned around but kept her eyes focused on the floor. “There you are, darling. Look at me.”

“I cannot,” she whispered.

“Yes, you can and you will,” he ordered. “Look at me, Gemma.”

When she did, everything except Frederick faded away into nothingness. She was captivated by the heat of his muscular body, the enticing scent of his skin, the smoothness of his clothes and his proximity to her.

All the hairs on her skin rose and tingled and a swarm of razor-tipped butterflies flooded her belly.

Do it. Look at him.

With her decision made, she tipped her head back. His deep blue eyes gleamed in the dimness as he touched her face and held her chin between his index finger and thumb.

“Good girl,” his breath skittered over her skin.

Without warning his lips sealed hers. His passionate kiss was both a shock and a revelation.

In the lamp-lit darkness, his hard, firm lips kindled a dormant need within her. A hunger for something she’d never known came roaring to life inside her, and the feeling was astonishing.

Tingles of explosive pleasure shot down her body, every sensation heightened, and Gemma whimpered with delight as Frederick tilted her head, his tongue exploring her mouth and teasing her tongue into play, filling her with bliss.

As untried as she was in the art of kissing, she knew well enough to mimic his movements and eked out a deep groan from him. It sounded as if he was starving and someone had suddenly sat him in front of a buffet.

A responsive moan escaped from Gemma. He swallowed the sound, tilting her head back further as their lips caught fire. He tasted like coffee and rich whisky, both flavors dark and addictive. Her primal instincts took over and all thoughts but one abandoned her.

More. I want more.

Senses aflame, she eagerly accepted the hot, invasive thrust of his tongue, and twirled her tongue around his as Frederick’s low growl sent shivers through her.

The blast of another thunderbolt caused her to jerk away from him, shattering the deeply intimate moment.

Frederick caught his breath, “Gemma…”

She watched as his eyes slowly lost their beckoning darkness and became filled with reason.

Disappointment rose in her chest as Frederick spoke.

“I-I must go,” he lurched to his feet.

She was on her feet the moment he reached the door.

“Frederick, I?—”

Gemma’s plaintive words echoed uselessly in the wake of his footsteps.