This Duchess of Mine(75)

The world disappeared once she tied the scarf around her head. “Goodness,” she said.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Elijah’s lazy, happy voice came from somewhere to her right.

“Are you on the bed?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yes. Lying here imagining you stumbling about the way I did.”

“Wretch!” she scolded, turning and walking toward his voice, hands outstretched. She bumped into the bed and fell forward.

Strong arms scooped her up and placed her next to him. “I should have taken off my boots,” he said thoughtfully. “Would it be cheating to start over? I’m not sure I can manage that with the blindfold.”

“Yes,” she said, wiggling about until she was fairly sure she wouldn’t fall off the bed.

“You forgot something too.” There was a thump that sounded like a boot hitting the ground.

“Not the Champagne,” she said. She knew exactly where she was—on the left side of her bed at the head—and that meant the little table with the glasses of Champagne was just at her hand. Which it was. She just managed to touch a stem with her fingertips and then wrap her hand around it.

She realized that she could even sip Champagne.

“You forgot the chessboard,” he said, amusement dark in his voice. “Dear me, we’ll just have to think of something else to do.”

“We don’t need a chessboard! Are you—” She put out an arm. “Are you returning to the bed?”

The mattress sagged a bit, answering her question. “Yes.”

“I shall give you a glass of Champagne.”

“We can always move to my bed after this one is drenched,” Elijah said cheerfully.

She managed to put her own glass back on the table and pick up his. Their hands bumped, but the glass was saved.

“I shall drink the whole glass right now,” he said in her ear. “Otherwise I can’t answer for its safety.”

“I should like to see you as tipsy as the marquise,” she said, trying to find her glass again.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just—” There was a tinkle, then the sound of shattering crystal. “I was just trying to find my glass,” she said sadly.

“The bottle is still there. Don’t move.” He reached over her and apparently managed to grab the bottle. “I suppose I’ll just have to serve you.”

“Oh? And just how do you plan to do that?”

“Like this.” Suddenly she felt a warm, large hand on her hair, running like the softest caress she could imagine over her forehead. One finger paused on her nose, and was replaced by a kiss.

Another finger traced her lips, and a kiss followed.

“Imagine that,” he whispered. “Anywhere my hand can go, I can find with my lips. The possibilities are…limitless.”

She couldn’t help giggling, but the truth was that being blindfolded made her feel uncertain. She had never, ever, made love without constantly checking the effect of her body on her partner—whether it was Elijah, all those years ago, or her two French lovers.

In fact, her pleasure came more than a little from that, from the sense of control and power she got as a man eyed her breasts. As she adjusted her legs, just a little, and he let out a muffled groan. As she watched a man’s eyes darken with lust so he looked as if he were in pain.

But now…

Blindfolded, she felt vulnerable, as if all her skills, her power, her attraction, were gone, along with her sight.

“I feel strange like this,” she whispered. “Maybe we should stop, Elijah.”

His fingers were on her lips, followed by the cold smooth edge of the Champagne bottle.

“I don’t drink from bottles!” she squeaked.

“Tonight you do.” His voice was a purring command that made her feel even more vulnerable.

She drank. It gave her the oddest sensation, as if her senses narrowed to the icy, sparkling feel of the wine in her throat. Elijah wasn’t touching her, but she could sense him there, his breath stirring her hair, his body just next to hers. He smelled delicious, like spice and soap and clean male.

“Enough!” she said, trying to regain her sense of control.

She heard a clink as he put the bottle down. “Now let me see if I understand the parameters of the game. We’re going to lie here, next to each other—after all, the rules demand that we stay in bed—and imagine the chessboard in our heads.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never played chess without a board,” he said thoughtfully.

“You might lose,” she said.

He nuzzled her ear and she jumped. “Or…you might lose.”

“Of course, that’s true as well.” Suddenly she felt just the brush of his tongue. “Elijah!”