Her Mystery Duke(20)
“And you bed ministers and shopkeepers to help with your rent?”
The teasing note in his voice settled on her like drops of water into hot oil.
“Yes, something like that, David.” She didn’t even try not to sound snappish. Her previous lovers were none of his affair.“You are selling yourself too cheaply, my darling.” He sounded so certain.
She laughed softly. Maybe a tad bitterly. “Am I?”
“You have a stunning body and a lovely face. You could have a duke, if you wanted.”
She glanced up. His gaze was riveted upon her breasts. Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d seen that effect.
“I have seen many beautiful breasts—”
“Congratulations.”
“That’s not a boast. My wealth and position has allowed me to pick from the cream of available women. I am telling you that I have never seen a more gorgeous pair of breasts.”
Likely he was overstating his wealth and advantages a bit. All men did.
“You don’t need to flatter me with such outlandish talk. I think I shall be kind to you for the remainder of your time here with me.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, but only if you promise to sleep now.”
He paused and gaped at her as though her hair had suddenly caught afire. Then he smiled again, lazily this time, distractingly sensual. “You certainly are a dictatorial little thing.”
He pulled himself up to a sitting position.
“No, you should rest. You’re not well enough to—”
He moved across the bed then arose, in all his naked glory. As he approached, her gaze riveted on his hard, muscled midsection. He didn’t appear to be all that steady on his feet and yet, paradoxically, there was a dancer’s grace to the way moved. Once again, she wondered how he maintained his body in that state of development.
David put his hands on the curve of her waist and he leaned close. Faint wheezing still sounded in his breathing.
He really was not a well man. Not yet.
He cupped his hand under the fullest part of her breast. She shouldn’t allow it. He was going to exhaust himself. His thumb brushed over the nipple. Fierce darts of delight stabbed through her. She closed her eyes and suppressed a moan.
“We have to get you back into bed,” she said.
His other hand swept over her buttocks. “Yes, I think we should definitely go back to bed.”
“And then I must feed you and afterwards you must sleep.”
He pulled back and cupped her face with one hand. “Must I?”
He gave her one of his slight smiles. It threatened to kill her self-control.
She stiffened her spine. “Of course you must. You have been really ill.”
His smile widened into a grin of blinding masculine beauty. Her heart gave a series of jagged beats.
“I should adore something to eat besides that horrid gruel you have been shoveling at me.” He ran a hand over his cheek, a brisk roughing of the stubble that was somehow unbearably carnal. It sent renewed twinges of need into her belly.
She became aware of her mouth hanging open. “I have some beef stew.”
“Well, that would be lovely, darling. And then I need to clean myself up, I think. I don’t suppose you have a razor and shaving soap?”
“I sent out for some.”
“Excellent.” He looked at her then with an intense, predatory glint.
Again, her heart gave a series of jagged, panicked beats. He was letting her off. However, if he had been well, he would not have. He would have pressed his advantage. The most frightening thing about that was she didn’t know where or how far he would have taken her.
But she did suspect that she wouldn’t have been able to resist.
Dry-mouthed, she turned away from him. Thank goodness for something practical to focus on. Feeding him. Helping him to clean up. Of course it was better for him to eat and shave. The sooner David was presentable, the sooner his coachman could be sent for, and he would be on his way to his life. And out of hers.
* * * *
The plain stew of carrots, onions and beef tasted better than the finest ragout of beef. As David swallowed a third mouthful of salty, rich broth, blood seemed to surge into his head, clearing the remaining fog from his thoughts. Apparently, he had been here for days, lost in delirium and half delirium.
It seemed unreal. He hadn’t been ill since he was a very small child. Stamina and the ability to push on no matter what were simply facets of his being. He looked around at the small chamber: cracked plaster, old furniture, a single window, the outside glass frosted by a heavy coating of dirt. Where the hell was he? How many days had passed? Why hadn’t he insisted on sending for his carriage long before this? He must have taken leave of all his senses.