Quite the opposite. She wanted to remove every layer of clothing. And heaven help her, she wanted Penrose to do the same so she could rub her sensitive skin against his. Nothing in all the books and learning she’d had, prepared her for these feelings. “No, not cold. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am much overheated.”
Penrose chuckled and pulled back to stare into her eyes. “You never do or say what is expected.”
“’Tis a gift, Your Grace,” she whispered.
“We’d better get back.” He slid over and reclaimed the reins, and coldness replaced the warmth his body had provided. When she clasped her arms around herself, he pulled her to him, tucking her snugly into his side.
The ride home was swift, seeming to take much less time than their venture out. Her emotions were tumultuous, questions swimming around her mind. What would happen when they arrived home? Could they continue this back and forth dance without coming to an obvious conclusion? And what would happen afterward? Did she want to take the chance?
Penrose hopped from the sleigh and tossed the reins at the stable master. Taking Merry by her elbow, he escorted her to the house.
“I think a bit of brandy would warm us both up. Care to join me in the library, Miss Chambers?” Penrose shrugged out of his coat and peeled off his gloves. The footman helped relieve Merry of her cloak and pelisse she’d worn to keep warm. The house stood silent, a testament to its residents having retired for the night.
Although still confused by the kiss, and not sure where this would all lead, the thought of ending the night now dampened her spirits. “Yes, I think I could use a small drink.”
They entered the library, and Merry rubbed her hands together and headed toward the blazing fireplace. Her heart thumped, and with the silence in the room, felt certain Penrose could hear it, and would know how he affected her. She should leave, save herself from what she wanted so badly.
“Miss Chambers.” The duke’s deep voice rumbled behind her as he held out a crystal glass of sherry. Her heart pounded double time as her senses came alive at his scent. She stared at his strong hand, mesmerized. What would those hands feel like against her naked flesh? She closed her eyes, but the image stayed with her.
“Thank you.” She turned and cleared the squeak from her throat.
He gently touched her cheek, tenderness in his eyes.
Once they sat in front of the fire, a warm rush of memories from the other night raced through her. Only this time she wore clothes. She blushed. Why were her thoughts so wanton?
She slanted a look at Penrose, his long legs stretched in front of him. Generations of aristocracy had been bred into those features. Broad forehead, high cheekbones, and a straight nose above full lips. He studied the fire, taking unhurried swallows of brandy. Every time her gaze wandered to his mouth, a spark of awareness clenched her stomach.
He’d said he wanted her. For what? Certainly she would never suffice as his duchess. Did he intend to seduce her, and then like so many aristocrats, send her on her way, or offer her carte blanche? She best be on her guard where the Duke of Penrose was concerned. Perhaps Miss Jennings had been correct, and all he would seek her for would be a quick tumble.
Frustration mounted as she dwelled on how foolish she’d been already to allow his kisses. With his attractive looks, title, and money, the man before her could have any woman in England.
She dragged the remnants of her pride around her like a comforting wrap. Once Kitty’s Christmas Eve ball was over, she would leave. Perhaps if Penrose decided to take a bride, it would be the governess. He seemed to hold the woman in high regard, and the girls had adjusted well to her tutelage. Although no beauty in the classic sense, Merry didn’t imagine a man with Penrose’s sexual appetites would find it hard to bed Miss Jennings. And produce the heir and spare.
Penrose didn’t seem too interested in the usual way men of the ton pursued a wife. Kitty had confided that he hadn’t attended ton activities in years. As a duke, it was his responsibility to provide the heir, not leave it to his brother, as he intended. Surely he would eventually come to that decision. And Miss Jennings agreed with his assertion that marriage was no more than a business arrangement.
Penrose drained his glass, and then set it down, pulling her from her musings. He studied her for moment, a hungry look in his eyes. Then he rose and pulled her up with both hands, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I can no longer fight this.” Without further warning, he took possession of her mouth, gently at first, and then with power and persuasion. All her senses screamed, warning her to flee.
He rele
ased her lips, his warm breath causing her skin to tingle as he placed short, feathery kisses behind her ear, down her neck to her jaw. She tilted her head to give him greater access.
“Day and night, thoughts of you in my bed consume me,” he murmured as he continued his assault on her senses. “I never lose control. Never.” He drew back and looked in her eyes. “Until now.”
Merry licked her dry lips and Penrose groaned. “I want to make love to you, breaking one of my strictest rules about bedding women under my employ.”
“I am not in your employ, but your mother’s,” she breathed.
He cupped her chin, and brushed his thumb over her lips, his eyes darkened with desire. “What are you saying?”
Indeed. What was she saying? Was she prepared to be bedded and discarded? Could her heart take the blow? She needed to flee from this room, this man. Run as far away as she could from him and the power he held over her. Her newly formed plan to leave after Christmas must stay foremost in her mind.
Then she made the mistake of gazing into those passion-filled eyes, and inhaled deeply, opting for honesty. “I’m not sure. I’ve never felt this way before, and I don’t know what to make of it.”
He took both of her cold hands into his warm ones. “Are you aware of what I’m asking of you?”
She nodded. It was too easy to get lost in the way he looked at her. Her inner voice urged her to leave. Quickly.
His mouth took hers hungrily and she surrendered. Whatever this man wanted from her would be his. She could no longer fight it, either. The passion he elicited was more powerful than all the brandy she could consume.