How to Catch a Duke in Ten Days by Violet Hamers

Chapter Seventeen

Antony looked up from the book to see Lady Hermione standing nearby, her face a picture of shock with those kissable lips parted. Seeing her standing so near to him, merely minutes after he’d tried to escape her, was tortuous. Watching her eyes darting back and forth, apparently looking for an exit but also unable to tear her gaze away from him for long, he wanted nothing more than to draw her in to sit in his chair with him and explore this desire for her.

I cannot let that happen.

“You found my hiding place,” he spoke with no humor.

“You were hiding from me?” she asked, clearly startled by the idea.

“Well, as we just discussed in our conversation as we danced, I am finding it nearly impossible to stay away from you. It seems best that I try harder in that resolution now,” he said and returned his gaze to the pages of the book again. He heard her footsteps retreat, yet hearing her go made his heartbeat grow faster.

I do not want her to leave.

“Did you come looking for me?” he asked, not looking up from the book.

“No, Your Grace.” Her words surprisingly made him sad. “I came to escape the ball and to read, but you have beaten me to the book we are both reading anyway.”

“Strange, I’m reading it, but the words are not going in,” he said, giving up on the book and closing the front cover loudly. “I am thinking of something else entirely.” He turned his eyes to her, finding her standing by the first line of bookshelves with one hand on a nearby shelf. His gaze lingered on her.

“What is it you are thinking about?” she asked, her voice a little breathy. Images flashed across his mind. It was every way he had ever dreamt of taking Lady Hermione, of pleasing her in this room until she was moaning his name not only out of pleasure but out of adoration.

“Cannot you guess?” With his words, his gaze dropped down her body, telling her exactly what he had been thinking of.

“I… I should go,” she said quietly, half turning between the bookshelves.

“Do you want to go?”

“No, of course, I don’t,” she said hurriedly, turning back to him, “but I should, shouldn’t I?”

He couldn’t let her go, not now. He stood to his feet and crossed the room toward her. She backed up a little from him though she didn’t make an escape. Instead, she placed her back against some of the bookshelves. When he came to a stop in front of her with his hands on the shelves either side of her waist, he burned with the urge to move those hands and touch her.

“Then don’t go yet,” he whispered to her. “Stay a little longer first.”

“If I stay, you and I both know that we will not keep to our resolution about not kissing,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed as he moved toward her, clearly waiting for that kiss.

“Would that be so bad?” he whispered, moving his lips toward hers.

“Awful, when you have no intention to marry,” she whispered, her eyes shooting open again. “We should not be doing this.”

“Then we could simply vow not to go too far,” he said, finding it unbearable to stay back from her. He slid his hands along the shelves until they brushed the sides of her waist. She gasped at the touch, though she made no move to get away from him. “Do you want me to stop this, Lady Hermione?” he asked, moving his head down to hers.

Her lips parted as if she were about to object, yet no words came out. Those eyes closed again, and her lips pressed together, giving him the assent that he needed. He kissed her, crossing the boundary and breaking the rules they had put in place for themselves. It started out as a simple press of lips, until he turned his hands to take hold of her waist properly. That touch ignited a fire.

The kiss became much more urgent and intense. With a quick nibble to her lip, he begged permission to pass her closed lips that she gave willingly. Soon, he was pressing her against the bookshelves, feeling her curves against his body, through the dress that he had bought for her. The whole time he pressed the kiss further; he lifted a hand to angle her head to him, to allow him to deepen it more. Her hands were holding onto him, as though she needed him just to keep standing.

I love that.

Wanting her to feel safe in his arms, he lowered his other hand back down to her waist and wrapped both arms around her then lifted her clean off the floor and away from the bookshelves. She made a sound of surprise into their kiss that he muffled before walking her out of the bookshelves and back toward the center of the room.

He found the rug in front of the fireplace quickly and lowered her down to the floor upon it, placing his body over hers in the effort to be closer to her.

He expected any minute for her to complain that they had gone too far and for her to push him off her, but she didn’t. Her hands began to claw at the back of his jacket, evidently trying to pull it off him. He lifted himself up from their kiss, parting from her just long enough to allow her to pull it off him. As they shed the garment, he gazed down at her, seeing her lips pinker than before, and the blush taking over her cheeks.

It was the eyes that struck him most. The pure green color was looking up at him with not just excitement, but something else in them. Every time he had ever been with a woman down at the club, they had always looked at him in one of two ways: either he was as a customer, and they just wanted things to pass quickly, or they were looking at him as though he were some prize that they wanted to win. Lady Hermione looked at him differently. She appeared as enraptured by him as he was her.

This is dangerous territory. I should walk away. Yet he could not. He lowered himself down and kissed her again.

Hands went wandering, and they were soon both pulling at each other’s clothes, desperate to feel more of one another. He moved his kisses down her neck, taking the same path that he had teased her with in the library the other day. This time, he hovered in particular over the neckline of her dress, kissing the glimpse of bosom that was visible and pulling at the neckline to get better access to her.

“We should stop,” she whispered. “What if someone sees us?”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” He cast the words aside, hardly caring if he didn’t really mean them. He was certain no one would come looking for them, not when there was a ball to distract them, and he had no wish to part from Lady Hermione just yet, not until he had lived out one of his fantasies.

He kissed her again. There had to be something in his words that meant something to her for her hands lifted up, and she buried her fingers in his hair, holding him down to her with even more urgency than before. He loved that feeling– the feeling where she truly wanted him. Not his title or his money, just him.

Antony began to pull at the skirt of her dress, desperate for access to her. In the clumsy fuddle of trying to pull the skirt up between the two of them when they were pressed so firmly together, he felt her begin to giggle into their kiss. It made him pull apart from her and smile.

“You are finding my clumsy attempts to please you amusing?” he said with a low chuckle.

“Well, I thought you liked the dress. You are pulling it so much, you might tear it,” she said as he moved her legs, pulling the skirt up entirely until it was around her hips.

“Tear it? I rather like that idea,” he confessed, imagining tearing it from her body, just to get access to her in the heat of the moment.

“Your Grace,” she attempted a warning tone, but it fell quickly away into a smile.

“I’ll buy you another if I tear it,” he said with a wink then hooked one hand under her knee and drew it to the side, creating space between her legs. She gasped at the touch as he lowered himself back down between her legs, kissing her once more.

This was another boundary they had crossed. As they kissed, and their hands wandered, her legs came up around his hips, making the intimacy greater. One of his hands had gone to caress the exposed skin of her thigh and then up to her rear, cradling it against his body. Touching her sent off more heat in him than touching any other woman had before. He not only wanted her but needed her. That need would be satisfied first by pleasing her.

He moved his hand around from her rear and reached between their hips that were moving against each other, slowly inching his fingers toward her center.

He parted from their kiss, holding her gaze, wanting to see her reaction when he touched her. The first caress was light. She gasped, and her eyes widened at the sensation. His second touch was firmer, and a moan fell from her lips. The sound was perfection to his ears. He set up a rhythm, pleasing her and watching her face for her reaction.

Her hands came up to hold onto him as her legs widened around his hips, giving him more access to her. The more he moved his hand, and the faster tempo he created, the more she responded. Her cheeks blushed red as her head tipped back on the rug, and her eyes were half-lidded, basking in her pleasure. When he pushed his fingers inside of her, marveling at the touch of her and how it felt, she seemed to enter new realms of ecstasy.

Her hold on him had tightened even more, and her back was arching off the rug, up toward him. Desperate to see her release, all for him, for what they had together and what they could share, he moved his hand deeper and harder. “Your Grace… I…” she moaned.

“Call me Antony,” he pleaded with her, needing to hear it.

“Antony,” she moaned his name, the sound getting a little louder. She had to be nearing her peak for he could feel her tightening around him. She thrashed her head back on the rug as his name fell from her lips another time. Her body convulsed with the shockwaves of her pleasure.

He rode out her peak, determined to give her as much thrill as possible. When he began to slow his fingers, he could see her body was dazed. Her hands couldn’t settle. One second, they were on the rug beneath her, the next they were on him, clinging to his waistcoat and his arms through his shirt.

“I hadn’t expected… that would be so…” She waved a hand in the air, trying to show what she meant without words.

“I know. Neither did I,” he confessed, wishing he could tell her how much such a thing had meant to him, to see that she cared for him whilst they were caught up in their desire for each other. He removed his hand from her and settled his body over hers, determined to stay close to her.

He kissed her once, just a light kiss of their lips brushing together. Her arms came up to hold onto him, and he sank more into her touch. The warmth that spread through his chest at her movement made him realize what had bloomed between them.

This wasn’t just flirtation, even if he had described it as that at the ball. It was desire, yes, but it was intense, it was overwhelmingly happy and exciting, and he didn’t want to part from her.

As he lifted his lips from hers and settled his weight on his elbows, he moved one hand to play with her hair, pulling the blonde locks out of the updo and wrapping the strands playfully around his fingers as he stared down at her. She was still panting, coming down from her high with her legs up around his hips.

“This is different,” he said quietly, unable to keep his words to himself.

“How do you mean?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“With you, everything feels different.” He breathed deeply. “I think I’m falling for you, Lady Hermione.”

He expected her to be happy at these words. Her suggestion earlier that evening that maybe there could be an understanding between them would have suggested she should be. Initially, she did look happy, with a smile spreading across her features and her eyes on his, then something must have struck her for the smile fell away.

“You look as though I have just declared to some horrible skeleton being hidden in a closet,” he said with a soft laugh. “What is wrong?”

“Oh God, oh Antony,” she said and lifted her hands between them, covering her face.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, lifting one hand to try and tear down the barrier she had put between them. When he managed to lower her hands a little, he found there were tears in her eyes. “You’re crying. What did I say?”

“No, what you said is wonderful,” she said hurriedly, “but there is something you must know. There is much you must know! About me.” She pushed against his chest, urging him off her. He went unwillingly, stopping when he was on his knees. She moved to her knees too and pulled at his waistcoat with both hands as though in a pleading motion.

“Something has got you worked up,” he said with a small smile.

“This is not the time for a jest!”

“Really? After what we just shared? I’m still basking in my happiness,” he said with a chuckle.

“You do not understand. You need to save yourself.”

“From what?” he asked, feeling his eyebrows knit together.

“From me!” she said, still pulling at the waistcoat.

What did she mean by that? He didn’t have chance to ask her out loud, for there was a sound on the far side of the room of the door to the library opening. Someone has come to find us. They’ll find us like this…