Accidentally Compromising the Duke(65)
Relief filled her at his presence, and with determined strides, she walked away from the cottage and strode toward the main house, uncaring that mud splattered the hem of her riding habit. Edmond had been so passionate and natural—his caresses, his words, they had been everything she wanted to hear and everything she wanted to hold close. Adeline feared he had truly been drunk, but not insensible. What would he do when he realized he had released his seed in her?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Edmond woke with a splitting head and a curse spilling from his lips. Once again he had passed the anniversary of Maryann and his son’s death in a drunken haze. Suddenly he despised the notion of liquor and vowed then he would never imbibe to drunkenness again. He pushed from the bed and paused, heat and something elusive slithering though his veins. Something was different. He struggled to remember, and fleeting impressions of Adeline crowded his mind.
Her compassionate smile.
The storm in her eyes that darkened to passion.
Passion… Her lips parted in bliss, her body arching to him, wet heat enveloping his length.
The cottage smelled like his duchess.
He frowned and glanced around. There was nothing to indicate she had been there. He scrubbed a hand over his face as the wisp of a dream roiled though his mind. He glanced down at his flaccid cock, which seemed sticky with the release he’d obviously achieved from dreaming of Adeline.
Hell.
He was like an untired youth. But he was grateful the worst had passed. And he had some explaining to do to his wife. It was hard to explain the guilt that had stirred to know Maryann rotted in the ground, and he was whole, healthy, and without a doubt falling in love with his new wife.
He dressed in a slow manner, mindful of his headache. A few minutes later he exited the cabin to a very dreary atmosphere. When he’d realized it would rain yesterday he had not tethered his horse so that it could return to the stables. It would rain again today. Maximus bounded over to Edmond, getting mud all over his clothes. He chuckled and hugged him around his neck, playing roughly with the great brute. They made their way to the estate, and his steps slowed when he spied Adeline and his girls strolling along a path.
Sarah spied him and with a shriek raced over. He swooped her into his arms, and placed her atop his head, as how his father had done with him many times. His daughter gripped tuffs of his hair for purchase, giggling.
“It is very high from up here, Father.”
Rosa ran over chortling and hugged him. “We missed you, Father.”
“I missed you both, too.”
“Will you come to our tea party in the nursery this afternoon?”
His throat tightened. This was the first time in years that he had received a much coveted invitation to one of his girls’ tea parties. They always held them, even invited his mother, and sometimes, he believed, Adeline, but not him. He’d known he was responsible for their wariness but had been at loss for how to mend the hurt he’d caused with his absence. “I would be honored to be on your guest list today, Lady Sarah and Lady Rosalie.”
They giggled, and his heart jerked in wonder at the beautiful sound.
He frowned when he noted his duchess seemed hesitant. They walked over to her, and he glanced at the basket in her hands.
“The girls and I took a walk, though it was overcast.” She held up the basket. “We picked some berries.”
Why was Adeline wary?
“Forgive me for departing with such haste from town.”
Her eyes widened and a flush climbed her cheeks. “It is of no great matter. I had been missing the girls and the estate dreadfully. I would have liked to be a part of the decision, however, but Lady Harriet explained what precipitated your actions.”
He nodded. “Shall we walk together?”
“We shall.”
They moved toward the house in the distance.
“You’re beautiful.”
She glanced at him, eyes wide, then what he had been waiting for came. A slow smile touched her mouth which was sinfully swollen, as if they had been kissed. Repeatedly.
For a terrible, timeless minute, he could do nothing but stare. The edges of his dream teased his thoughts. “Did you have a pleasant night?”
“Oh yes, I did, thank you, and you?”
“My sleep was restful.”
They said no more, allowing the girls to chatter until they reached the main house. All should have been well, yet Edmond wondered at the disquiet lodging in his gut.
…
Eight weeks later, Adeline was bent over the chamber pot heaving and looking pale. Her maid Meg held the mass of her hair from her face and pressed a cool washcloth to her brow.
“There, there,” Meg crooned as his duchess heaved once more.
Sympathy filled Edmond. Adeline was having a horrible time of it.