Chapter Nineteen

N erves rippled through Effie. She felt a mixture of curiosity and fear. Yes, she wanted to know more about kissing. No, she was not certain she wanted to be taught that lesson by Waterbury. The duke, who had been a figure on the sidelines for the first few weeks she had known Ada, now loomed large in her life. He had grown from a silent, older brother to a man she was incredibly interested in. She had thought him nice-looking until he had begun opening up to her. Now, she found him appealing. Vulnerable. Devastatingly handsome. And intriguing.

That combination frightened her.

She had entered this Season with the intention of experiencing some of the things her relatives had. Effie had hoped to make a few friends outside her family. Have some interesting discussions. But in no way had she supposed she would come to want a man. A deep yearning invaded her soul. She craved to know everything about this duke. Her thirst for knowledge had always been great, and both Mama and Miss Feathers had allowed her to pursue interests that appealed to her. She had held back this Season, not wanting to pine for anyone, let alone a duke.

Yet here she found herself, ready to engage in a kiss with one. Effie didn't want to want a duke. They were the pillars of Polite Society, a group of people she found ridiculous. All these odd customs of a girl making her come-out and the unnecessary waste of gowns to be worn once and never again made her head spin. She knew herself. What she wanted was to be back in the country, surrounded by its tranquility, tending to her animals and helping Caleb with the estate.

Since she was stuck in town for the next few months, she might as well make the most of it. Learn what a kiss involved with a devastatingly handsome man. Who cared if he was a duke? As long as he made the kiss pleasurable, it would be something new to learn about and would help her understand her family more since they all seemed to be mad for kissing.

Gazing up at Waterbury, pretending to have a confidence she suddenly found sorely lacking, Effie said, "I am ready if you are, Your Grace."

His thumbs caressed her cheeks, causing her pulse to quicken. His mesmerizing green eyes seemed to penetrate to her soul, as if he knew everything about her.

Slowly, he lowered his head, his lips meeting hers.

This time, the kiss felt different from the beginning. The previous time he kissed her, he had brushed his lips softly against hers. He began again the same way, but her heart seemed to pound so hard it might burst from her chest. Her breath quickened. Her hands gripped his shoulders so she might steady herself. She felt his smile against her mouth.

Then he was kissing her. Short, hard kisses that drew her in. The fluttering in her belly increased, and Effie's grip tightened on his shoulders. She refused to grow weak-kneed and be the kind of lady who fainted. She was here to learn, not swoon.

His hands, large and a bit rough, slid to her neck, holding it a moment, his thumbs now stroking her. He softened the kisses, brushing his firm lips against hers. Then the tip of his tongue touched her bottom lip, sweeping back and forth, startling her. She started to protest but decided it felt good. One of his hands moved to her nape, cradling it, while the other went to her back, stroking the length of it, up and down, hypnotizing her.

She moved closer to him instinctively, her breasts touching his chest, and the hand on her back stopped. His fingers splayed against it, and he held her in place, stepping even closer, her breasts crushed against him. They had come to life, the nipples sensitive, and they seemed heavy and full to her.

He used his tongue to outline the shape of her mouth, drawing shivers from her. Then he ran it along the seam of her mouth, teasing it open. His tongue suddenly touched hers, stroking it, causing chills to race through her. Effie heard a whimper—and realized it came from her.

She kept still, getting used to the new, delicious sensations pouring through her as his tongue continued to explore her mouth. She could taste the lemon from the teacake he had eaten and wondered if he experienced the same. Waterbury took his time, investigating her thoroughly.

He broke the kiss, but his lips continued to search, moving along her cheek to her ear. Suddenly, his teeth pulled on her lobe, sending a bolt of fire through her.

"Ah, you like that," he said, his voice low and rough, causing another chill to race along her spine.

He tugged on the lobe, teasing it, then his tongue outlined the shell of her ear. Effie had never given her ears a single thought. Until this moment. Who knew they could be so sensitive and bring such a depth of feeling?

His lips were on the move again, and she could not wait to see their next stop. It was her pulse point, and he nibbled at it, causing another whimper to escape. Then his tongue circled it, causing her breathing to go shallow. He nipped at it, then soothed the place with his tongue. Her hands moved to his nape, her fingers playing with his hair, tugging on it. He growled as Daffy might when the cat was on the prowl, and Effie almost laughed.

She had no time, though, because his mouth was on hers again, hard and demanding, his kisses almost punishing. This time when she granted him entrance, she was an active participant in the kiss, her tongue gliding along his, learning its texture and shape.

He broke the kiss, and she opened her eyes, seeing his green ones on fire, knowing that was desire.

"You learn quickly, Effie. I knew you would."

Before she could reply, he was kissing her again, demanding more of her. She wanted to give him everything he asked for. He began breaking the kiss and moving in again, on the hunt. She matched him, her fingers pushing into his hair, pulling him close, the feel of his body against hers causing her own to heat considerably. Her bones seemed to dissolve and she clung to him.

He seemed to understand her legs might give out, and he scooped her into his arms. Dazed, she looked up at him as he turned his head, moving through the conservatory, looking for something. She wanted to ask what, but speech seemed beyond her.

"Not a bloody chair in sight," he said, his frustration obvious. "The floor will have to do."

Confused, she watched as he headed to a wall, placing his back against it and sliding to the ground, with her still in his arms. Now, she was seated in his lap, and Effie looped her arms about his neck, pulling him to her, greedy for more kisses.

They kissed a long time, one kiss melting into another, his arms holding her steady. In them, she felt safer than she ever had. The world ceased to exist. It was only the two of them, in this moment, and she would happily stay here forever.

As he kissed her, his hand moved to her breast, and he began kneading it. She had not known she required his touch there, but the moment his hand touched her, she knew she could not live without it. He continued kissing her, caressing her breast, the heat now pouring through her. Her core began throbbing almost painfully, and a wicked thought occurred to her.

She wanted his hand there. Touching her where no one else had.

Breaking the kiss, her gaze met his. Effie hiked up her skirts and then took his hand, bringing it under them. Wordlessly, she told him what she needed.

And he understood.

His hand ran up her thigh and back down again several times, moving to the inside of her thigh, higher and higher, until he reached where she needed him to be. All the while, they merely gazed at one another.

"May I touch you here?" he asked roughly.

"Please," she said breathlessly.

Effie thought he might kiss her again, but he refrained from doing so. Their gazes locked on one another as his fingers stroked the seam of her sex. She whimpered but held his gaze.

"You will like this," he said, his voice low and tender.

"I know," she replied, somehow knowing she would like anything he did to her.

Waterbury's fingers danced back and forth, toying with her, her core continuing to pound violently. Then he pushed a finger inside her. Her eyes grew large and her lips parted, but she kept silent.

Then the magic began. His finger pushed deeper, caressing her intimately. She mewled softly, wriggling her bottom against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"You are wet for me," he told her. "It means you want me."

She bit her lip and saw his eyes darken. Suddenly, Effie sensed a power within her, a feminine power that told her how much he did want her. How he controlled himself because he was a gentleman. It made her want to tease him.

And make him want her even more.

A second finger entered her, and she arched her back, something starting to build inside her. Still, their gazes were focused upon one another.

"I want to see you come. Hear you cry my name."

She frowned, not quite understanding what he said, but putting her trust in him.

"Show me what to do."

He smiled, a smile that drew her in. "Your body will know what to do. It will show you the way. With my help."

"I feel something inside," she said. "I cannot explain it. It feels like something is going to happen."

"You will know when it does. I promise you that."

He kissed her once, swiftly, and then broke the kiss again. "I want to see your face when it happens."

His fingers continued to caress her, and her body was on edge. It tingled. It anticipated something. She was on a precipice—and she now needed to take a leap of faith.

He pushed her to the edge.

And then over it.

Suddenly, the intense pressure exploded within her. It was like warm sunshine radiating through her, with wave after wave of the purest joy she had ever felt. It came, again and again, and crested, causing her heart to beat so fast, she thought she might die. She babbled nonsense, not understanding what happened to her. And not wanting it to ever end.

When it subsided, she felt utterly spent. His hand had stilled, but his fingers remained in her. She blinked several times, her entire body limp.

"I thought I might die," she told him, her arms so heavy they fell from his neck.

"The call it la petite mort . The little death."

"What I felt?" she asked curiously. "It has a name?"

He chuckled, stroking her cheek. "It is called orgasm. It is when you hit your peak of arousal. Personally, I think the French words encompass it better."

" La petite mort ," she echoed. Grinning, she added, "That was not something Miss Feathers taught me about."

His hands framed her face. "No. I am the one to have done so," he said possessively, kissing her long and hard.

Effie felt different. Reborn.

All because of this man.

Did she love him?

She couldn't say. She was starting to like him. She certainly liked his kiss. How did a person know if they were in love?

It wasn't as if she could ask her mother about it. And if she talked to any of her sisters or cousins, they would assume she did love Waterbury.

Did she? Could she? How could she remain Effie—and yet belong to someone else totally?

She would have to figure it out on her own.

"We should leave the conservatory," he said.

Scrambling off him, she sprang to her feet. He did the same. Then he pulled her to him for a last, searing kiss.

"No one will be in the drawing room by now," he said. "Walk me to the front door."

He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. They strolled leisurely to the foyer. Effie did not want to part from him and only reluctantly pulled her hand away.

"What event are you attending this evening?" he asked.

"A rout. I cannot recall the name of its hosts."

He frowned. "We are to go to a card party."

Disappointment filled her.

"I have somewhere to take you tomorrow morning," he said, surprising her.

"Where?" she asked.

"It is a place you will enjoy going. May I call for you at ten o'clock?"

"We cannot go alone," she pointed out. "Should I bring Mama? Or perhaps I—"

"Bring the captain," he told her. "Or your brother if he is available."

"You aren't going to tell me where we are going, are you?"

He smiled charmingly. "And ruin the surprise? No, my lady. You will see when we get there."

"Very well. Ten o'clock, Your Grace," Effie confirmed. "I hope you enjoy your card party this evening."

The duke held her gaze a long moment. "Until tomorrow, my lady."

He moved to the door, and the footman on duty saw him out. Effie went to her bedchamber to think. About their kisses. About the way he had touched her.

And suddenly, she knew.

She did love him.

Georgie and Lyric had both told her separately that they knew they were in love when they realized they wanted to spend all their time with August and Silas. Effie felt the same way now. The Duke of Waterbury intrigued her. He challenged her. He made her feel strong and confident and able to do anything. His kiss had awakened something within her, and she wanted to explore these sensual feelings. Being with him seemed the most natural thing in the world.

The problem was that Effie did not ever wish to become a duchess.