Once Cecily had left, the Duke had made it perfectly clear that he all but expected Dominic to have a mistress and that it would have no effect on his marriage to his daughter. The Duke had said he had no delusions about what the relationship between a husband and a wife was. It was an arrangement for the mutual benefit of both families. He’d even said he envied Dominic for having such an attractive mistress.
And that was one thing the Duke was right about. She certainly was attractive. Although he doubted Nellie Regan would consent to be any man’s kept woman—she was too feisty and independent for that.
Although there was no denying it was a tempting proposition. Despite his injuries, spending time in her humble room, chatting to her, had been an enjoyable experience. The most pleasure he’d had for as long as he could remember. And their picnic among the bedclothes had been fun. It would have been even more fun if she really was his mistress and it had occurred after they had made love.
Visions of how she looked this morning, with the sun streaming through her nightgown, once again invaded his mind. He remembered her shapely body, her full breasts, her tiny waist, her rounded hips and the curve of her bottom, and groaned quietly.
She stopped reading and stood up, her face pinched with worry. ‘Are you in pain? Your valet packed some laudanum. Do you need some?’
Dominic waved her away. Laudanum was not what he needed, being able to feel those luscious curves, to have her in his bed, writhing beneath him, that would relieve the ache that was consuming his body. But that was out of the question. ‘I don’t need laudanum. Please, just continue reading.’ And don’t come so close to me that I can smell your tempting scent of fresh roses, so close I could reach out and caress those curves I so long to touch.
What was wrong with him?
Nellie Regan was helping him. Without her he would have been left bleeding in the street, vulnerable to further attack. She had given up her bed for him and he was repaying that debt by lusting after her. That was something he had to get under control. Perhaps he should ask for some laudanum after all, to block out these wild, inappropriate thoughts.
He forced himself to concentrate on the story she was reading, only to realise it was the tale of an engaged man who had an affair with another woman, whom he was in love with but couldn’t marry because she was of the wrong class. Of all the stories she could have picked, why on earth did she choose that one?
When it was finished Nellie looked up at him, a slight blush on her face. ‘It’s all a bit of nonsense really, but Arthur Conan Doyle definitely tells an exciting yarn.’
He nodded his agreement. Of course, it was a bit of nonsense. Falling in love with the wrong person, wasn’t that exactly what his parents had done? They had let passions rule their lives and look where it had got them. Fortunately, Dominic was not like them. He had made a sensible arrangement with Cecily. He just had to remember that and stop these ludicrous images and thoughts from invading his mind.
She closed the book and put it on the bedside table. ‘Well, you must be tired. I certainly am.’ She looked over at the small bed.
‘I’m sorry you had to sleep in your armchair last night and that I’m still taking your bed. I did ask Burgess to move me to the smaller bed but, most unlike him, he refused.’
For some reason her blushing cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. ‘I was perfectly comfortable last night. And your valet was quite right. Until we know for certain that you haven’t broken a rib you mustn’t move. Doctor’s orders. That bed will be comfortable enough, I’m sure.’
She disappeared into the adjoining room and he was tormented by the sound of rustling fabric as she discarded her clothing. He tried hard not to listen. He tried not to think about her slowly peeling away the layers of clothing that kept her body from his appraising gaze. Fought not to remember what she looked like in her thin, near-translucent nightdress. He absolutely must not think of that. He tried to divert his mind with other thoughts—of those thugs and their rock-hard fists pummelling him, of the pain that was consuming every inch of his body, of his shocking, bruised face when the valet showed him his reflection in the shaving mirror—anything so he wouldn’t think of that lovely woman and her even lovelier curves.
She emerged from behind the door. Was he relieved to see she was wearing a thick dressing gown or disappointed? Relieved, surely. But her hair was now released from its restricting clips and hung down her back in a long, thick plait. Why did women go to so much trouble over their hair when seeing it hanging free was so much more attractive?
‘Well, I need to get some sleep, I’ve got another busy day tomorrow and I’m sure the more rest you get the quicker you’ll heal.’ With that she extinguished the lamp and plunged them into darkness. But that did not extinguish his thoughts or his senses. In the silence he heard the bedclothes being pulled back and the sound of her climbing into bed. She had said he needed rest, but with her lying so close, yet so far away, for him sleep seemed an impossible dream.
Chapter Twelve
Dominic woke the next day after an all-but-sleepless night. He had lain awake in agony for hours and it wasn’t just due to his
