Waking Up With the Duke (28 page)

He had always given the better part of himself to Madeline Brown, while she received the crumbs. She deserved more. She deserved everything.

From the first Ainsley had given it to her, had never held back, had always taken her needs into consideration and placed them above his own. But it wasn’t the real world. It was a secluded place where they had frolicked.

Drawing back, Ainsley sipped at the corner of her mouth, then pressed his forehead against hers. “Jayne, let me sleep with you tonight. To hold you. Nothing more.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Lifting his head, he gazed down on her. “Wishing upon stars seems to work.”

“I want to come to know the real Duke of Ainsley.”

His smile flashed in the moonlight. “You already do, sweetheart.”

Over his shoulder she saw a star shoot through the sky and made a wish.

Forgive me, Walfort.

Chapter 30

W
hen they returned to the house, he followed her into her bedchamber. She clambered onto the bed, then watched, mesmerized, as he removed his jacket and waistcoat. He didn’t even bother to look in the direction that he tossed them, but they landed with unerring accuracy on the chair anyway, and she wondered how often he’d followed those same motions. His movements were fluid, confident. He sauntered over to the bed, sat on the edge, and placed her bare feet on his lap. Slowly, he kneaded the ball of one foot and then the other.

“You’re so very skilled at this,” she said.

He rubbed his hands over the arch of both feet. “I’m skilled at many things.” His gaze holding hers, he moved his fingers in ever widening circles up to her ankles. His eyes darkened into a challenge. “But there is one thing I’ve never done.”

His hands moved higher, carrying her nightdress with it, reminding her of their first night together. She clamped her knees together. “Ainsley, we can’t.”

“I’m well aware of that, but what I want now . . . I want to see your belly. I want to see where the child grows.”

“Ainsley—”

How could she refuse such a heartfelt plea? Licking her lips, she nodded.

Ever so slowly, as though he were unwrapping a precious gift, he moved her nightdress up over her knees, past her hips, up to her chest. He placed his hands on either side of her waist and studied her increasing girth.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. He lifted his gaze to hers, and she could see the wonder in the green. “You’re so beautiful, Jayne.”

Lowering his head, he placed a kiss on the spot where their child—for this moment in time it was
theirs
—grew. Straightening, he drew her nightdress back down to her ankles.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad the child will be born here.”

He joined her that night, beneath the sheets. His body warm and familiar. Comforting. He didn’t tempt them with passionate kisses or sensual caresses, but he held her near, stroked her back, her arm, her hip. They lay on their sides, facing each other, talking quietly. About his brothers and their families. About his mother and Leo. Her parents were deceased and she found a mercy in that for they would not know the questionable things she’d done.

When she fell asleep, his arms were around her, and she felt safe, protected, and, for the first time since Blackmoor, she was not lonely.

J
ayne awoke alone to thunder booming and rain slashing against the windows.

After ringing for Lily, she climbed out of bed and walked to the window. It was a gray, gray day. No walks in the garden, but she could stroll through the manor. She was unfamiliar with a good bit of it. She’d only been here for the duchess’s wedding. Then she’d done no exploring. Surely, he’d not mind if she did so today. She would ask him over breakfast.

But after she was dressed and went downstairs to the breakfast dining room, she discovered that he wasn’t there.

“He’s already eaten, my lady,” the butler told her. “He’s in his study now, working. Would you like me to escort you there?”

“No, that’s quite all right. I shall just have something to eat and then I believe I shall stroll through the residence, if there are no objections.”

“None at all. He informed me that you have leave to treat the house as though it were your own. If there is anything you want seen to, you have but to ask.”

Nodding, she turned away and went to the sideboard where an abundance of food waited. She’d been unable to eat in the early months, and lost her appetite after Walfort passed, but now she was famished. She ate so much that she thought she might burst. When she was finished, she strolled through the residence, imagining herself as mistress here.

At the top of the landing, in one of the wings, was a portrait gallery. The windows stretched the length of the room. She sat in a chair and watched the storm rolling over the land. It was beautiful, yet powerful. It rivaled all the emotions roiling through her. All the feelings for Ainsley that she’d squashed were rising to the fore—so quickly, so forcefully. She loved being in his presence. Loved the way he made her feel treasured. He would do the same for the child. She couldn’t imagine this child growing up and not walking within his shadow.

“Stephen proposed to Mercy there.”

With a start, she smiled and glanced back over her shoulder. He looked so relaxed, so at home. To spend all her days and nights with him . . . if only this child would wait a year to be born.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before sitting in the chair beside hers. “Did you eat this morning?”

“Like someone with no manners. Two plates’ worth. You have a wonderful cook.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“I could do that. See to your menus.”

“You’re not here to tend to my needs.”

“I shall go stark raving mad if I have nothing to do, because then all I have are my thoughts for distraction. I don’t like the directions they go.”

“Do they want to take you away from here?”

Slowly she shook her head. “No, they consider staying.”

The pleasure reflected in his eyes warmed her, and she gave her attention back to the rain. “You have no fox hunting here.”

“No.”

“What do you do when you entertain?”

“Shooting. Have lots of birds.”

“Are you skilled with a rifle, then?”

“I’m somewhat of a marksman, yes. Considered demonstrating for Cousin Ralph.”

“I don’t really blame him, you know. He has so much to gain.”

“But he could have gone about it differently. Should have spoken to you instead of the gossips.”

“Is that what you would have done?”

“I suspect I’d have done nothing—or at the very least, I’d have given you time to mourn. Inconsiderate lout.”

She smiled at his disgust with Cousin Ralph. “You take his accusations personally.”

“He’s threatening to make my child’s life miserable. I won’t stand for it, Jayne. If you don’t marry me, I shall bring the full weight of my title to bear against him.”

“Even if he’s right?”

“It is a dilemma.”

He didn’t remind her that it could all go away if she married him. Cousin Ralph might not care about making her unhappy. Ainsley obviously did. She wanted to erase the furrow between his brows. She nodded toward the outdoors. “What is that building over there?”

It was brick and stone. Long. A short distance from the residence.

“My pool. I should show it to you when we go on a walk.”

B
y afternoon the rain had stopped and they strolled through the garden. Then he took her to the pool.

It was long and narrow, the water still, except for the steam rising from the surface. Steps led down into it.

“So you just swim across it?” she asked.

“Yes. Back and forth. It’s not very deep. Even if you don’t swim, you could go into it.”

“It would be like taking a bath in a huge tub.”

He laughed. “Not exactly.”

“I should like to watch you swim sometime.”

“I suspect I’ll be doing a good bit of it at night.”

She stared at him. “Really? Why ever would you swim at night?”

He cupped her face. “You really don’t understand how irresistible you are, do you?”

Tilting her head back, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was gentle. An exploring, a communicating. Before him, she’d never realized that kisses could take a variety of shapes and forms. Softly, provocatively, he teased her senses. She found herself leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He undid no buttons, lifted no hems, and yet she felt as though he were making love to her.

He could convey so much with his lips, with his fingers lightly touching her cheeks, his thumbs slowly circling at the corners of her mouth. She wanted to fall into him, against him. She wanted him to lie her down and kiss all of her.

All thoughts of anything beyond the two of them disappeared when he gave her such undivided attention. Would he still be kissing her like this when they were old? Was it only the newness or perhaps the lure of the forbidden that spurred him on now?

He drew back and held her gaze. “I’ll swim at night so I’ll be too tired to do the wicked things I’d dearly love to do to you.”

“What is the longest you’ve ever stayed with one woman?”

“Never compare yourself to other women.”

“What if I appeal to you only because I am a challenge? If I am yours, you may very well grow tired of me.”

“Never.”

“You can’t know that for sure.”

“What I know is that I have never felt for any woman what I have felt for you. I don’t know how many different ways I can say it or show you. Sometimes, Jayne, you must simply have faith.”

H
ave faith. Have faith that he would not hurt her. Have faith that he would not cast her aside once he had her. Have faith that he truly loved her.

She hated the doubts that plagued her as the days and nights slipped by.

Every afternoon, he joined her in the garden for a walk. Sometimes they would stroll for more than an hour, talking, enjoying the flowers.

Often he would read to her in the garden. At night they would watch the stars.

She had the opportunity to observe him as he tended to the business of his estate and other properties. He was firm when he needed to be. It was obvious that those with whom he dealt respected him and valued his opinion.

She’d always heard that he’d inherited his wealth. While that was no doubt true, it was quite obvious to her that he took great pains to look after what had been entrusted to him. When troubles arose, he would discuss them with her, as though her opinion had value. He made her feel appreciated in so many ways.

And always, always, he slept with her, held her through the night.

So she was surprised one night when she awoke to find herself alone. She stroked her hand over the indentation where he’d been sleeping. The sheet was cool to her touch. He’d been gone a while, then.

She rolled out of bed, stretched to one side, then the other. Oh, her back was hurting. She needed Ainsley to rub it. Strange, how she knew she had but to ask and he would comply. He gave her so much attention, more than she’d had in her entire life. It was as though he lived for moments with her.

She padded out of the room and into the hallway. The door to his bedchamber was open, but he wasn’t there. Perhaps he’d grown hungry and was enjoying a late night repast. But when she went to the kitchen, she found it empty. Then she remembered him saying that he often swam at night.

The grass was cool beneath her feet as she made her way to the building at the far side of the garden. She could barely believe that August was already here. The Season would be coming to an end. She wondered who had become betrothed. It had been so long since she was in London to enjoy the Season that she didn’t even miss it. Much better to spend the warmer months here, where the air was so fresh and she could move about so easily.

When she reached her destination, she hesitated. Would he dislike being disturbed? Or would he welcome her? Welcome her, no doubt.

Opening the door, she stepped through it. The sultry warmth greeted her, coating her in dew. The light from lanterns battled the shadows, causing them to dance mysteriously between the walls. She stood there, watching his powerful muscles bunching and stretching as he sliced through the water. He was quite simply beautiful.

While she would be content whether this child was a girl or a boy, suddenly she very much wanted to have a child that resembled Ainsley. Something in her heart twisted and turned. She’d been so afraid to acknowledge her feelings for this man. They filled her with guilt. They had ever since Blackmoor.

She’d told herself that he called to only the physical in her, but they had been remarkably chaste since coming here, and still he stirred within her dreams that she’d long denied herself.

He reached the edge of the pool, turned—

And stopped, his gaze falling on her. He breathed heavily, the water lapping at his chest. Flicking his hair back, he began plowing through the water, walking toward her. “Interested in a midnight swim?”

She laughed. “No, I just woke up and you were gone. I don’t know. My back was hurting. I just . . . wanted to find you.”

God, she was rambling. Whatever was wrong with her?

“Come. Get in the water.”

“No, I . . . I don’t think it would be wise in my condition.”

He started up the steps. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. “Oh, my.”

She turned away.

“You’ve seen me without clothes before,” he said, and she heard the humor laced in his voice.

“Yes, but it’s been a while.” He wore trousers to bed. At least here. With her.

He took her hand. “Join me in the pool, Jayne.”

“I really don’t think—”