Chapter Twenty-Four

A s the hack rattled through the streets in a now-familiar route toward the ducal townhome, Caro made lists in her head. They'd finish the library sorting today, and the packing wouldn't take long now that she knew what went where.

Several more of the valuable books needed to be mailed to their new homes. The letters she'd sent to the bookshop's collectors were bearing fruit. It looked like the long hours on this project were going to be the financial boost the store had hoped for. A small part of her was sad not to have a business reason to be in Dorian's home. Perhaps she'd been hiding somewhat behind the excuse of working in the library. After today, when she was there, it would be because she was there only for him. In his bed.

With every visit, she recognized a paradox. The more at home she felt in his rooms, the more she became aware that the luxurious space would never be her home. To be simultaneously relishing every moment while already grieving the inevitable end of their love affair was taking a toll.

And it had become a love affair. There were moments when she'd swear Dorian had fallen in love too.

The seconds when his eyes met hers and held such admiration, it was impossible to imagine not seeing that expression for the rest of her life. And during those hours spent in bed, with his body warming her back while the fireplace heated her front, as his hands drew lazy lines along her skin and they talked about whatever was on their minds.

She loved him, and even if he felt the same way, she didn't know if that would be enough to change their future. Or even if it should.

London passed in a blur as she worried at her bottom lip. She wouldn't tell Dorian about her mail-delivery idea to catch Sherman unless one of the shops found him in the records. It did no good to get Dorian's hopes up or argue about his concerns—at least not until it was too late for him to stop her.

The hack dropped her off in front of the white townhome. As she climbed the steps, Caro noted absently that despite the house's grand appearance, it no longer intimidated her. Hastings opened the door and greeted her warmly. Howard was prepared in the library with crates and men.

It was moving day.

Footmen hammered crates closed while she labeled each with a number to correspond with the inventory lists she'd built over weeks of work. While easily placed titles, like Mr. Lipscomb's mythology books, had already been delivered to the bookshop or directly to collectors, much of the library was bound for the hands of everyday people.

Dorian had been in meetings all morning, but she hoped he would have time to go over the final inventory sheet before she left.

All too soon, it was finished. Maids were cleaning the empty bookshelves with lemon oil. Men carried crates down the hall to load them into a waiting cart.

Anticipation made butterflies take flight in her belly when she knocked on his door. This phase of the project was complete, and that felt like an achievement. His voice saying, "Enter," made those butterflies flutter for entirely nonprofessional reasons.

She stepped inside, then closed the door behind her. It had once been intimidating to be in Dorian's study, with all the polished wood and fine furniture. Now the room felt cozy and familiar.

"Sorting and processing are complete. I'll notify you of each sale when the valuable volumes go to collectors. The collectables are marked for Martin House. Everything else is being loaded into a cart as we speak. Those can go to the shop as well, or we can take them to charities or other stores."

Dorian stood and met her as she crossed the room. He dropped a kiss on her lips. "I thought the shop was going to take the noncollectible books for your lending library."

Something about him today seemed more relaxed and at peace than she'd seen outside of his bedroom, and it made her smile fondly. "We can certainly use many of the books, but I had an idea. If you wanted to spread your generosity and build goodwill within the community, there are several schools, women's homes, and orphanages in the city that could benefit from the collection. You've said the late duchess spent a great deal of time working with charities. She wanted to build a school." Caro stroked her hand over his jaw. "No matter how it ended, there were sweet years too, and those shouldn't be forgotten."

Dorian kissed her palm. "That's an excellent idea. You're a good woman to think of it, especially given all you know," he said. "Perhaps you can help me make a list of places, and Howard will schedule those deliveries."

"Already done." She handed him a paper, and he chuckled.

"Everything is organized and labeled, I take it?"

She shrugged. "Color coded, actually. If you opted to give everything to Martin House, the cart driver would receive this inventory." She showed him a paper with directions to deliver the lot to her shop. "But since you like my idea, he will get this one instead." She produced a different paper with a flourish. "This one assigns each delivery location a color that corresponds with a crate marked with the same color."

He studied her face, and she wished she could read his mind. "Let me into the pause," she said. As always, the reminder made them smile.

Dorian dropped a lingering kiss on her lips. "I was thinking how impressive you are and that I'm lucky to know you. Organizing the running of an entire estate, or even the British army would be well within your abilities."

He opened his arms, and she walked right into them. "It feels odd to not have a professional reason for being here anymore. Without the appeal of being covered in library dust, will you still want me?" she asked, only half in jest.

"God, yes. I will always want you here. Every day. Every night. I'm nowhere near done with you, Caroline Danvers. I don't think I ever will be."

From anyone else, that would have been a declaration. In a world where he wasn't a duke, she'd have taken it as one. However, this wasn't that world. As she'd told Hattie, this was a fantasy. And she desperately wished to cling to the fantasy for as long as she could.

Her mind spun the fairy tale to new heights. Of sitting in an ugly paisley chair by the fire, writing while he pored over ledgers and paperwork at his desk. Perhaps making space for a desk of her own across the room, so she could look up from her work whenever she liked, to let him catch her smiling at him. Rising onto her tiptoes, Caro pressed her mouth to his. "We will find our way through. I don't know exactly how that looks, but we will."

In answer, strong hands gripped her bottom, lifting her against him as he stalked toward the desk before the giant window she'd observed him against so many times. The window she'd imagined in her mind when she wrote Phoebe on her knees before Lysander, licking and sucking tormented admissions of loss and vulnerability so the hero in her story could find healing and love.

He set her down on the polished surface, never breaking their kiss.

While her real-life duke wasn't nearly as damaged and haunted as Lysander, Caro related more deeply to this story than any others before. Perhaps because this book, Phoebe Takes the Duke , although not finished, was the one she'd written while falling in love with the man behind the title and perfectly polished facade.

He'd inspired A Dalliance for Miss Lorraine , but that had been the public version of him. The man on those pages bore little resemblance to the one in her arms now.

As always, desire flared hot and fast between them. For several long, glorious, gasping breaths, she allowed herself to be lost in him. She sucked his bottom lip between hers until the only thing she could taste was Dorian, and the liquid heat at her core ached from the hard length of his arousal pressing against her.

"I think you missed me last night." She smiled against his mouth, and his laughter tasted sweet.

"What gave me away? I was trying to be aloof and mysterious." He nipped and teased along her jaw.

"This house is crawling with servants, and in a few moments the driver will need his marching orders," she reminded him.

"Bloody people ruining my plans to finally fuck you on this desk," he grumbled against her throat.

She laughed quietly. "And to think I used to believe you truly were aloof and mysterious." She slid off the desk to her knees and pressed a palm against the impressive tent in the placket of his breeches. "Allow me to show you how much I appreciate your plain speaking." The buttons of his breeches opened beneath her eager fingers.

"I thought you said we didn't have time to—Bloody fucking hell, your mouth is a miracle," he gasped.

Phoebe had seduced Lysander this way, and a thrill went through Caro that she could have the chance to play out the scene. She sank into the experience. The salty musk of him, amplified by his body heat, filled her nostrils and tickled her tongue. Such an amazing contrast of silky soft skin over hardened flesh. When she withdrew, the suction made a faint pop . "What did you think about while we were apart? Tell me."

Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and stroked, meeting her lips as she drew him deep once more.

Dorian's answer came between heavy breaths. "I couldn't sleep, because I missed you. The bed felt too empty, so I imagined you there. Thought about the way your pussy gets so wet—fuck, Caro, do that again. I yelled your name when I came."

Between his legs, his testicles were a firm weight in her hand as she rolled her palm and fingers along them. "Tell me more."

"More?"

She licked the bulge of a vein along the bottom side of him from root to top. "I'll suck for as long as you speak."

When her finger ventured behind his bollocks to smooth skin, his responding chuckle ended abruptly with a groan. He rested his hands on the edge of the desk for support as his knees shook.

"You speak. I suck," she repeated.

When he began to talk, she took him deep once more and made him gasp. "I didn't sleep that first night we were home from Kent. The bed was too empty, even though you'd never been in my room be-before." He stuttered when she pressed another finger behind his tight testicles, then scraped a nail over the puckered flesh just beyond. "I kept remembering how I panicked when I thought you'd left me at the inn. It unnerved me."

She drew back. Above her, his blue eyes were serious, swamped with desire. The memory of her not being there when he awoke had kept him awake all night? When he didn't elaborate, she raised her eyebrows in silent question and flicked her tongue over the wide head of his cock.

True to their agreement, he started to speak and she rewarded him with a firm pull into her mouth. "I want you so much it scares me. All day, every day." As her movements quickened, so did his words. "I want to help you make these dreams you have come true. Even though I'm scared that a life with me isn't one of them."

Hands and mouth working in tandem, she carried him along toward his own release. The thrusting of his hips grew frantic and his voice broke. Caro pressed her knees together, trying to ease the ache between her thighs.

"I'm close; if you don't want me to—"

She sucked deeper in answer, making her opinion on the matter quite clear. His hands threaded into her hair, guiding her head, and she moaned.

With a low curse, he came.

Dorian was still trying to catch his breath as she carefully refastened his breeches, then got to her feet. She perched on the desk between where his hands still clutched the edge.

"You're quite proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"I am." She grinned. "Do you think anyone heard us?"

"God, I hope not. The servants are discreet but the dowager is another matter. My mother and I are not seeing eye to eye on things at the moment." Dorian gently tucked her hair back into order, and her heart flipped at the sweetness of the gesture. "Do your best to avoid her if you can. It's in everyone's best interests. However, we have things to discuss, you and me. I've committed to an event this evening, but would you join me for dinner tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that. But now I should go direct the driver." They did have things to discuss, and she'd have to draw on Blanche's bravery. Just then, she didn't require Blanche's help to summon a saucy smile and leave Dorian with an image that would wreck his composure whenever he thought about it. "Before I go, I need you to know one thing."

"What's that?"

Caro rose on her toes and whispered in his ear. "Sucking your cock made me so wet it's dripping down my thighs right now."

Grinning, she ducked under his arm and darted to the door. His deep groan had her giggling as she fled the study and returned to work.