Celeste sat on a square, tufted pillow before the fire in the bedroom Jordan had led her to so she could bathe. Her damp hair hung down her back, making the large white shirt that someone—presumably Astrid—had left for her cling to her skin. The flames danced red and yellow behind the fire screen as she stared unseeing at the embers.
She would need to learn Nordic and how to swim. With a sigh, she closed her eyes.
She’d married Hudson to escape her father, to bend to his wishes when she wanted to marry for love. Now she sat here in another man’s home, while her husband went insane down the hall.
She should check on Hudson, even though she did not want to. He was, after all, her husband and the duke. His servants most assuredly had told the authorities of his disappearance. Her father would be so angry with her for this jumble.
The smell of the sea floated over her, and the hairs on her neck stood to attention.
Jordan stood in the doorway, wrapped in a blue-and-gold silk dressing robe. His hair hung in ringlets down to his shoulders. The white streak, a contrast against the rest of his black strands, added mystery to his already grand appearance. “I hope you are feeling more relaxed.”
Warmth seeped through her stomach, and she did not attempt to stop the smile that turned her lips. “Quite.” “Thank you.” Her cheeks warmed. Though less so, seeing you dressed in that. She yearned to run her hands through his hair and pull him to her in an intense embrace. Concentrate on the items at hand. She turned on the pillow and faced him directly. “How is Hudson?”
“He is resting. I have scribed word of his presence here to both his valet and to Ferrous. I also requested Ferrous to bring your grandmum here. Would you like to send a note to be included to her as well? And one to your father?”
“Thank you. I am certain Grandmum is worried. By the time she woke this morning, we were gone.” She fidgeted on the cushion. “I do not want to care what my father thinks, and if I write to him, I will only incense him.”
“You do care.”
“It is not easy to account for.” She bit her lip, then released it. “He has always been heavy-handed with me… Well, really, with all of the women in his life. We simply bended to his will. I tried to please him for so many years, and part of me still wishes to do so even though I don’t want to, and I don’t want to care.” She wet her lips with her tongue.
“That is understandable. You can always write to him once this situation is straightened.” His eyes glimmered with compassion she felt to her core. He did understand. “There is parchment and quill in the drawer of the small desk by the window, so you can write to your grandmum.” He walked into the room, and the air glimmered with moist heat.
She inhaled to steady herself. The salty clean smell of the open sea filled her nostrils, and warmth spread along her skin as if he had wrapped his body about hers. She wanted him to protect her and to be yearned for, both for her body and her mind, not for an arrangement she had nothing to do with. She wanted him to love her. Sucking in a startled breath, she tried to remind herself she was still married to Hudson.
“You are destined to be with me.” Jordan’s voice was calm and determined. Destiny was a word she had never dreamed she would hear from a man. But destiny was not love.
He went to the small stool tucked under the desk. His large hand covered more than half the seat as he pulled it out. He turned and held out his hand to her. “Come.”
She wanted to touch every part of him again, but this would have to do. She slipped her fingers into his hand. Tendrils of sultriness snaked up her arm and slipped down her belly to between her thighs. Never had she so desperately wanted a man to touch her wherever he wished. A fever of desire overtook her. As she rose to her feet, the large shirt tumbled down to below her knees, and the soft fabric dropped from her right shoulder to her elbow.
Jordan stared at her exposed shoulder. The calm blue of his eyes swirled to a deep green. He craved her as badly. Wetness coated the lips between her thighs. They should not indulge until she was free to do so. She pulled her hand from his and reached for the fabric.
His fingers firmly wrapped about her wrist before she could reach the shirt’s edge. He leaned in and pressed his lips to the round swell of her shoulder. Slow flicks of his tongue wet along her collarbone. Goose bumps washed her skin. She wanted this. No matter how wrong his touching her was… “Mmmm.” Her head fell back, giving him access to her neck. Desire babbled like a slow brook through her body.
She should be….
She wanted…
Oh! She didn’t care what she should be. This was now. Her body trembled with that acknowledgment. He continued to flick his tongue up her neck. Yes, she wanted that.