The Duke I'm Going to Marry(73)

“Thank you, Ian. Climb into bed with me. I want to be in your arms, feel the weight of your body against mine.”

He didn’t know what else to do with the bossy bit of goods, so he agreed. Well, he knew what to do with her. Kiss her. Peel the shirt off her. Bury himself inside her sweet, naked body. Lick and touch and tease every beautiful inch of her. Make her hot and slick for him. Make her scream out his name while in the throes of ecstasy.

Make her agree to marry him.

Dillie Farthingale was not going to be a one-night dalliance for him.





CHAPTER 12


A SUDDEN GHASTLY THOUGHT struck Ian as he lay stretched atop the covers on the bed beside Dillie, certain his rod would permanently ossify if it grew any harder. She still wore his shirt. Thin shirt. And she had a dreamy expression in her eyes that made their spectacular blue depths seem even more spectacular. “Did someone give you medicine for the pain while I was out searching for Abner?”

Dillie nodded. “The innkeeper’s wife gave me laudanum.” She glanced at her sprained foot. “She said it would ease the throbbing.”

“Damn it.” He was on his back, Dillie nestled into the crook of his arm, her arm thrown over his chest as she snuggled beside him. He eased her off him and rose slightly to face her. “Here’s one of my rules,” he growled, putting his weight on one elbow to prop himself up. “I’m not bedding you until the damn medicine wears off. Then you can ask me again. I won’t say no. I’ve wanted you in my arms, in my bed. Naked and in my bed, longer than I care to admit.”

“Me, too. That’s how I’ve always felt about Good Ian. But everyone keeps saying there’s a bad side of you. Even you think so.” She shook her head slowly. “I know my mind’s a little fuzzy, but I still want to know. What did you do that was so awful? Why do you hate yourself so?”

Great, he was about to bare his soul to a slip of a girl who’d been drugged and now lay injured in bed beside him. Would she remember any of their conversation once the drug wore off?

“I didn’t take any of the laudanum yet,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. “I wanted to keep my head as clear as possible. I’m still a little muddled, but that’s because of the bump on my brow. I’ll take my medicine afterward.”

“After you’ve had your answers?”

“I’d like those, but no. After you’ve had your way with me. And since this will likely be the most memorable moment of my life, I don’t want to be too drugged to remember it clearly.”

He fell back and sighed. The girl had him turned upside down, twisted in knots. “Does this mean we’re done talking?”

“Heavens, no. Your ordeal isn’t nearly over. You haven’t told me anything that I didn’t know already. Oh, you did tell me that your nightmarish event happened when you were only four years old.” She propped up on her side, resting on her own elbow as she faced him. “I suppose it counts as a secret. Now I owe you a sexual favor. Name it, Ian.”

“No. I thought we’d ended your silly game. You’re playing with fire, Dillie. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“We did end it, but I thought it important to try again for your sake. You need to talk about what happened. You can’t carry the pain inside of you forever.”

“Yes, I can. I’ve managed to do it all these years.”

“No, you haven’t. You’re the unhappiest man I know.” She shrugged when he didn’t respond. “Have it your way. I’ll play with myself.”

He groaned. Yes, that would be a great sexual favor, watching her touch herself... rouse herself. Watching her run her fingers over the engorged tips of her firm, pink breasts. Watching her writhe as she stroked the sensitive nub that lay between her thighs until she was wet and hot and ready for him. The thrill would stop his heart.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I think I just took my sexual favor.” Laughing at her confusion, he drew her atop him so that her splendid breasts, and their soon-to-be-engorged tips—for real, next time—were pressed to his hot skin. The nightshirt was still between them, of course. It wouldn’t be for long. “Your turn.”

“I want to ask you more about your brother.”

“Not yet, Dillie,” he said quietly. “Please.”

She studied him a long moment, and then nodded. She rolled off him and nestled once more in the crook of his arm, shifting and squirming until she was once again comfortable. She turned away from him so that they were almost spooned, her back to his front, and then turned again, apparently preferring to face him. She was like a kitten in his arms, squirming this way and that until she found the right spot.