She wanted to ask him more. Her lips parted but she closed them again. Cordelia’s second piece was drawing to a close and she didn’t dare ask him more. She wasn’t certain probing for more information was her place and she didn’t want anyone else to overhear their conversation.
Cordelia immediately launched into an upbeat folk song and His Grace stood, momentarily letting go of her hand but then reaching it out to her again. “Would you care to dance?”
She looked to her father who gave her a wink. “No objection from me.”
She turned back to Lord Rathmore. “I’d be honored.” This time, as she slipped her fingers into his, her entire family watched. He led her to the middle of the open floor and suddenly, his hand was on her waist, her fingers clasped in his much larger ones. Heat radiated from his body and the subtle scent of sandalwood and a deeper male musk assaulted her senses. How had she never noticed how good a man smelled. Or was that just him?
Then he started the steps of a fun country dance and she didn’t think about his seductive masculine aroma anymore instead, caught up in the feel of him as they moved together. Dancing with a handsome Duke, being swept away by him, had filled her daydreams and night fantasies since she’d come of age…maybe even earlier.
Chapter Three
Damn this woman felt good. And she’d looked at Chase with such understanding, her face soft, her eyes warm and crinkled at the corners. Hell, he’d wanted to confess his darkest secrets to her. Which was ridiculous. He’d done that with a woman once at the tender age of eighteen. His parents were gone and he’d been lonely. She was the daughter of a baron and he’d thought he might marry her. Only she told half of London about his confessions, his secret pain.
It had taken years for people to stop calling him the forlorn duke afterward. Of course, nowadays they more often referred to him as the indecent duke, but that he could live with. He’d earned that title after years of debaucherous behavior. Sometimes he wondered if behaving badly was all he was good at.
He gave her waist a small squeeze, wishing that he could pull her close. She had a slightly sweet scent like strawberries warmed in the summer sun and he wondered how she’d taste.
The song ended all too soon and he was obligated to dance with her other sisters. Normally, he would have appreciated each one of them for their attributes but he couldn’t see anyone but Ophelia tonight. She’d entranced him with her beauty and charm. As the evening grew later, he’d wondered how he’d ever sleep. Between the weather and the storm Ophelia was creating in his head, he’d be up all night at this rate.
“Tell me.” He leaned over toward Ophelia, a bit of a plan hatching in his brain. “You said that you and your father are avid readers. Is there a library in your fine home? I fancy some reading before bed.”
“We do.” She gave him that wide, lovely smile that spoke of unreserved joy. Then she turned to her father. “Papa, His Grace would like to see the library. May I take him?”
Her father nodded. “Excellent idea. Bring Adrianna with you.”
Adrianna? Which one was she? He was having a difficult time keeping track of all the women but the shortest sister, a waifish blonde, rose from a chair.
She rolled her eyes. “Papa, you know I don’t like the library. Why can’t Juliet go?”
“Hush,” her father softly chastised. “Keep them company.” Then he brushed his hands through the air, shooing them out the door.
Adrianna trailed behind as Ophelia linked her hand in his arm. He heard Adrianna mutter something about the most boring duke ever and he pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Ophelia led them into the library, and even he stopped in awe. The cavernous room rose two stories with a balcony all along with second level and two spiral staircases to reach the upper books. “I’m impressed.”
Ophelia tugged on his arm. “We’ve impressed a duke? That is something.”
His eyes strayed to her again. He was interested in more than the library. Adrianna plopped down in a chair and leaned back, closing her eyes. “Tell me when you’re done. I’m going to nap while I wait.”
He clenched his teeth together, a wolfish grin threatening to give away the game. Had Mr. Moorish known that his other daughter would be a lenient chaperone? How interesting. And while Ophelia was surely an innocent, he couldn’t help but want to touch her. Just a little.
“What would you like to read?” Ophelia asked, leading him toward the spiral stairs.
“I’m not certain,” he answered, sure he would make this meeting last as long as possible. “What are my options?”
“Let’s begin with fiction or nonfiction,” she said, stopping once again.
“For tonight, fiction. Something I can lose myself in and not think of what’s happening around me.”
She cocked her head to the side, studying him for a moment. “Excel
lent choice. Let’s go up the stairs to where the romance and mysteries are located.” Then she slipped her hand from his arm and started up one of the spiral stairs. He followed her keenly aware of the sway of her hips. Hellfire, the woman was built for sin. He wanted to reach out and grab that tiny waist again, pull her close to his body and feel his—
“Decision time,” she said, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Mysteries are to the left, romances to the right.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, the vision of her looking over her shoulder at him more than he could bare. Desire raged through his body, making his breeches uncomfortably tight. “Romance.”
She gave a little gasp. “That’s my favorite too.”
“Which Shakespeare work is Ophelia in? Remind me.” He knew, of course.