Yes, he may have been a rake when he was younger. The constant supply of trysts had kept his mind off what his father had done to him. What their sire would have done to Jeremy if he had not stepped in.
That was the entire reason why he continued to so steadfastly refuse that George was his son—because it wasimpossible.Damien had not bedded a woman for over five years. Ever since he saw Caroline for the first time.
His thoughts swirled with yearning and the overwhelming longing that came with the realization that she would never believe him, even if he told her. He leaned his head back against the chair rest and smoothed his hand down over his aching length, trying to adjust himself.
Pleasure shot through his veins like tiny bullets, making him shiver and clench his teeth. An image of Caroline sliding those plush, pink lips around his cock sprang vividly to his mind, and he stroked himself again, letting out a soft groan.
I should stop. I need to find George’s parents. I need to prove—
His thoughts dissolved as his hand stroked down his cock again on its own volition, and he let out a hissing breath as he closed his eyes. Realizing it was only by giving himself some relief that he could possibly return his focus to his task, Damien stopped fighting his arousal and drew his aching cock from his breeches.
His fingers wrapped around his thick base, his girth so wide from thinking about his wife, and he gave himself a long, slow stroke from root to tip. Pleasure made his mind go blank, and he repeated the motion, this time muttering Caroline’s name.
He thought of the pond once more. Of how her dress had turned transparent from the water, draping perfectly over her delicious curves as he pulled her from it. Of how her eyes had gone wide and dilated when she had seen his naked form, and he fantasized about showing her how his body could bring pleasure to hers.
He would start slow, not wanting to scare her. He would draw her into his arms and kiss her until that clever little mind of hers went blank, and she melted into his touch. His tongue would trace down that little vein in her neck, over her collarbone, and he would draw those pert breasts into his mouth one at a time until she was shivering and begging for more. He would work his way down that narrow waist, over the soft curve of her hips, and when he finally settled between her thighs, he would make her say his name.
And when she was trembling and spent, he would fill her slowly, watching her face as he did, and he would not stop until she had forgotten every reason she had ever given herself to keep him at arm’s length.
“Please, Damien,” his imagination conjured her breathy plea as she looked up at him with need-filled eyes. “Please give me more.”
And he would. He would give her everything. And when she thought she could take nothing else, he would give her even more.
If only she would let him.
Chapter 16
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
Caroline startled and then froze for a moment.
After her conversation with Damien the other night, she had found herself turning his words over and over in her mind. He had been so unexpectedly kind to her, so patient, and she had felt the walls she had so carefully built around herself begin to crack under the weight of it.
That was precisely what worried her.
She had trusted people before—had wanted so desperately to believe the best of them—and had paid dearly for it every time. It was not that she believed Damien was lying to her about George. If she was being honest with herself, she was beginning to believe that he was not.
Still, she wanted to see for herself if Damien was truly investigating George’s parents, and whether he had found anything he was keeping from her.
She had learned long ago that the surest way to protect herself was to seek the truth with her own eyes rather than rely on the word of another, however sincerely it was given. And so, when the halls had finally gone quiet, she slipped out of her room and made her way toward his study.
Apparently, though, not all the servants had retired for the evening. She turned around, slowly, and relaxed when she saw Argyle, Damien’s steward. He would be easy to dismiss.
“Good evening, Argyle,” she pleasantly replied. “What are you doing here so late?”
The young man smiled politely as he held up a brown portfolio.
“I have received word on an inquiry His Grace had sent out to Carlisle,” Argyle explained. “I thought it would be best to take it to him straightaway.”
Caroline’s curiosity piqued.
“Carlisle? As in near the border of Scotland?” she inquired.
Could Damien have told the truth? Was he truly searching far and wide for George’s parents?
“Yes, Your Grace,” Argyle replied, sounding impressed. “You know your geography.”
She let out a small laugh.
