Romancing the Duke (Castles Ever After #1)(51)
Author: Tessa Dare

One last frantic barrage of thrusts, and he slumped atop her. Heavy, panting, sweating, shuddering.

At last, he released her hands. His arms went about her middle, clutching tight. He laid his head on her breast.

Tentative, Izzy placed one hand flat on the slick surface of his back. With her other hand, she touched his hair.

He tensed for a moment. She did, too. And then he exhaled so deeply, she could believe he was expelling air from his lungs that had been there for months. Perhaps years. Everything went out of him—all the arrogance, pride, anger, fear, lust. Until he just existed in her arms.

She stroked his hair, teasing her fingers through the soft, heavy locks. Her heart swelled with an unbearable sweetness. It didn’t matter what happened tomorrow. This tenderness was worth everything.

“Ransom,” she whispered. “I’ve fallen just a little bit in love with you. You needn’t be worried. I won’t expect you to return the emotion, and I know that this can’t last. But I’ve been waiting so long for somebody to care for, and I . . . I can’t help it.”

She waited, heart pounding in her chest, for his reaction.

And when it finally came, it was this:

A faint, reverberating snore.

Chapter Nineteen

The strangest things woke Ransom the next morning. Sunlight, streaming warm on his face. A gentle breeze, scented of blossoms. The chirp of songbirds.

The tickle of hair against his neck.

“Ransom. Ransom.”

Someone was shaking the limp, dead weight of his arm.

Izzy.

He opened his eyes. He saw the halo of curls surrounding her pale face. Those dark eyebrows. Her red lips.

“Ransom, wake,” she said, shaking him again. “What’s wrong? Are you dead?”

“No.” His voice was a rasp. “I’m not dead.” Emotion burned at the corners of his eyes, like acid. He said it again, slowly. Gratefully. “I am not dead.”

He was very much alive. Awakened, in a way he’d never felt before. His heart was like a new organ, pumping a fizzy, champagne-like joy through his veins. He felt like dashing to the window and bursting into song.

He hadn’t been with a woman since . . .

Well, since.

For the first few months after his injury, he was simply in too much pain to contemplate it. And then . . . then, he’d feared it would be like entering an unfamiliar room. He’d be fumbling about, cursing. Making stupid mistakes as he learned the lay of the space. What if it was bad?

What if he was bad?

But it hadn’t been bad. It had been good. So damned good for them both. Memories came back to him in bits and pieces. Her slick heat clenching around his fingers, making him wild to get inside her. The tight, willing welcome he’d found once their bodies joined. The sweet way she’d held him at the end.

Izzy, Izzy.

“Good,” she said. “Now hurry and dress.”

“What?” He blinked and sat up in bed.

She fluttered about the room, washing up and donning her clothing. Watching her was like watching a burlesque dancer. Water splashed and dripped as she dragged a sponge over her body. He watched, transfixed, as her white shift drifted down over her dark head, then the pale pink column of her nude body. She pulled her hair free, and it tumbled like a black cascade, transforming her silhouette once again. Light and dark tugging back and forth.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was the most alluring creature he’d ever beheld. Utterly, elementally sensual.

He moved to the edge of the bed, catching her by the waist and drawing her close. He pressed his forehead to her belly. “Izzy . . .”

She pulled away from his grasp. “We can’t. Not now. I don’t know where Duncan’s gone, but he’s sure to turn up soon. We can’t let him find us like this.”

Ransom rubbed his face. “Believe me, Duncan has seen far, far worse. And he knows better than to ask for explanations.”

“I suppose this could be just another morning for the two of you. But it’s a bit out of the usual for me.” A wadded ball of fabric hit him in the chest. “Your clothing.”

Stymied, he sorted out the tangle of garments. This wasn’t “just another morning” for him, either.

He yanked the shirt over his head and punched his arms through the sleeves. Then he rose from the bed, pulling his breeches to his waist and fastening the closures.

He crossed to the dressing table, where she was hastily pinning up her hair. He dropped a kiss on her exposed neck. “Izzy, last night was . . .”

“I know.”

“Really?” He caught a stray curl. “I don’t think you do.”

She nodded and turned to face him. “It’s all right. You needn’t be worried, Ransom. I understand. Last night was lovely, but . . .”

But?

Ransom couldn’t believe he was hearing that word. Last night was so lovely, but?

No “but” belonged in that sentence. Only “and.” Last night was so lovely and passionate and tender and erotic and . . .

“But it was like a dream,” she went on briskly. “This morning, I’m clear-eyed and levelheaded. You needn’t worry. I haven’t formed any silly expectations of you.”

Good God. He was shocked speechless.

These were words that any jaded rake would be thrilled to hear. Words that Ransom would have been thrilled to hear, from any other woman, on any prior occasion.

Coming from her, this morning? The words were gutting him.

“We’ll get back to our work this morning,” she said. “I can be very professional. I promise, it will be like nothing happened at all.”

She slipped away from him, hastening down the stairs.

He let her go.

She had no expectations of him.

Truly, none?

Did she really think he would make love to her last night, and then want to go on today as if nothing had happened at all?

Well, of course she believed that. Why wouldn’t she? She’d spent the past few weeks reading through abundant evidence of just such behavior. By now, she was intimately acquainted with his history, his temperament, all his vices and faults. He’d done nothing but underscore the impression with boorish behavior and the occasional groping. Add to everything the fact that he was a scarred, blinded wretch.

And then, last night, he’d taken her virtue—without so much as the mention of marriage, or even any promises beyond the one night’s pleasure.

Naturally, she had no expectations.

He supposed that meant one thing.

If he wanted any chance of keeping her, Ransom would have to come up with some surprises.