A Princely Dilemma by Elizabeth Rolls Read Free Book Online

Kester. ‘I’ll not keep you from your bed any longer, Severn.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Thank you for seeing me. And pray, give my regards to your wife.’
    Kester’s cheeks heated.
    ‘I shall look forward to meeting her,’ continued Malmesbury. This time he actually smiled. ‘You look happy, Severn. I could wish your example might inspire the prince. Goodnight.’

    Kester returned to his private sitting room to find that the bird had flown. Muttering a curse under his breath, he headed across the room for his bedchamber—for God’s sake! What had he been thinking, telling Linnet to just get into bed? Of course she had gone back to her own—
    ‘My lord? I mean, Kester?’
    He stopped dead in the door leading to his very large bedchamber, turned around and wondered if his heart had stopped too.
    His wife stood just inside the door that led through to her sitting room.
    Of course she had gone back to her own bedchamber. He took a deep breath. She had changed for the night and returned. With a book. He supposed if Malmesbury hadn’t left when he did, she might have found a use for it. As it was…
    She looked at him, an expression of uncertainty on her face, the slender column of her throat rising from the high-necked nightgown, bare toes peeping from beneath.
    ‘Yes,’ he said, before she could ask. ‘This is exactly where I want you.’ God help him, that demure nightgown was as erotic as the evening gown. Or perhaps it was just her. And him. No matter. He strode back across the room, swept her up, startled gasp and all, heedless of the book crashing to the floor, and headed for his bed.

Chapter Eleven
    Linnet found herself tumbled onto the ducal bed, the duke tumbling after her, rolling over and over with her locked in his arms until they reached the middle of the vast counterpane. She ended beneath him, a willing captive, held by his hard, hot weight and by the surrender of her own heart. He smiled down at her, brushed his mouth over hers and began to unbutton her nightgown. ‘Naked,’ he said softly. ‘Not a stitch between us, and I’m not putting the candle out either.’
    She flushed. ‘But I’m not…pretty—’
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re gorgeous. And you are mine and I want to see you. You’re not going to hide from me any longer, sweetheart.’
    And all the time those buttons were coming undone, until her nightgown hung open and he stripped it from her. Moments later he had shed the last of his own clothes and took her in his arms. Naked. Not a stitch between them. Hot skin to hot skin. Firelight and candlelight a dance as sensuous as his fingers at her breast.
    Slowly, he rose over her, gazing down, and she trembled at his expression. Hot. Hungry. One hand still fondled her breast.
    His mouth, all hot demand at her breast, drawing it deep into the heat of his mouth. Delight shot through her to where his thigh held her legs apart and she felt his hand slide down over her belly and cup her. There. There where she was aching and needy and wet for him. There where emptiness cried out so that her hips lifted, dancing and pleading for more. And he gave her more, teasing and stroking, finding a place where all pleasure was centred, pressing so that she cried out as lightning struck from where he suckled to where he caressed her so tenderly.
    ‘You like that,’ he murmured against her breast. ‘Say it, sweetheart.’
    ‘Yes,’ she panted. What did he like? ‘But you—I want to please you.’
    He drew back a little, lifted his head. ‘Touch me, then,’ he said.
    Her breath came in. ‘Touch you?’ Even as she spoke her hands spread over his back, finding and loving the lithe muscles, loving that his body shuddered. No longer did she think it was distaste. She knew that pleasure now.
    He still caressed her, but lightly. Watching her. Letting her explore and possess. And she did, discovering his chest, that the small male nipples could tighten, that he liked it as much as she did. Finding