Accidentally Compromising the Duke(35)

Thank Christ. A tiny sound of protest had caught in her throat as he withdrew and disappointment had glowed in her eyes. The lady was purported to be in love with another man. Why would she been yearning for his kisses, when her heart was engaged elsewhere?

But what was it about Adeline that made him loose the tether on his control? Edmond had almost taken her, and without an ounce of the tender consideration he had bestowed on his first wife on their wedding night. Though he’d only been eighteen when he had married Maryann, he’d had a few lovers. She had been the shy blushing virgin, and it had taken him almost an hour before he’d been able to convince her to shed her nightclothes. Then when he made love with her, it had been under the banner of darkness, communicating with touches, and soothing murmurs. They had gone so slow, sweat had beaded his brow and his arms had trembled from holding back.

It had been like that for the first few weeks, before she lost her shyness. A wry smile twisted Edmond’s lips. When he had received Adel’s summons, he’d only intended to put her at ease, and provide the relief he thought she would crave at the knowledge he would not expect marital relations when she still had love for another. Instead he’d been consumed with the need to pound his lust inside of her because of the visceral desire she elicited.

Bloody everlasting hell.

He wrenched opened the library door and slammed it with much more force than he’d anticipated. How it had all shot to hell so quickly, his muddled brain still had to figure out. Worse, not once had the dangers of bedding her entered his thoughts the second she had tumbled into him. What if he’d lost control, took her, and she’d fallen pregnant?

He swallowed down the sick feeling rising inside, stalked to the side mantle, and poured brandy into a glass. With three swallows he consumed the fiery drink. It did the job. The queasy feeling had been replaced with the harsh burn of the liquor.

Edmond strolled over to a wing-backed chair by the fire and sank into the chair’s plush depths. He needed to analyze their situation and find a way to resolve the raw emotions bubbling in his gut. Since his loss of control and his sense of self when Maryann died, he’d prided himself on his cool emotional state that he had worked with a ruthless will to attain.

He was now married. Fact.

He had no need for another child. Fact.

His new wife seemed to desire marital relations. A distressing fact.

And he could not get the taste and feel of her out of his head. A disturbing fact.

He had barely touched her and she had been so wet. An enticing fact.

Edmond scrubbed a hand over his face and laughed ruefully. He should have left the chit to her ruin and disgrace and wed lady Evelyn. He was certain that lady would have been thrilled with the knowledge she would not have to burden herself to fulfill any marital duties. But Lady Adel actually wanted him. Her hot and eager responses had almost bewitched him. His cock stirred, and he groaned.

A knock sounded on the door and he glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. “Yes?”

The door opened and in strolled his mother, Lady Harriet Rochester, the dowager duchess. She was dressed in the height of fashion in a Prussian blue silk gown with pale blue long satin gloves, with a matching turban on her head. The modest bodice trimmed with white silk roses and silver embroidery. A row of silver embroidery continued down the front of the dress and around the hem, which also had small clusters of white silk roses at regular intervals around the edges.

At forty-eight, his mother was still a ravishing woman with generous charms, and many men of the ton still pursued her in earnest. Diamonds dripped from her ears and throat, and her gray eyes, so much like his, found him unerringly in the darkened room.

“You are home early, madam.”

“I was forced to depart Lady Walcott’s soiree early after hearing the most alarming gossip,” she said, walking into the room.

Hell. She’d not received his note. “There is no doubt you are eager to tell me, and I, of course, must listen.”

She glared at him. “The ballroom was rife with talk that you visited Wiltshire and married your mistress,” his mother said with cool aplomb.

“You can rest assured that is a rumor.”

She wilted with visible relief.

“I did not marry my mistress. In fact, I’ve never had a mistress.”

Her spine snapped straight. “But you did marry?”

Her shocked tone settled into the room, and the alarm in it actually caused him to smile.

“You are smiling,” she said faintly, walking to sit on the sofa facing him. “I am not sure if that portends good fortune or something ominous.” Yet she looked hopeful and it twisted his heart to see it.