Page 33 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

Suddenly, Arabella was naked. Had she always been? It mattered not because she just saw Caspian travel further down her chest, his lips moving to her right breast. He took her nipple in his mouth. She cried out, he bit down, and she moaned.

“I think that you like it,” he chuckled as he moved to her left breast.

“I would tell you not to stop but…” She gasped as her left nipple went into his mouth. “I know how you hate being told what to do.”

Her hands ran through his thick hair. They scratched at his back. They grabbed anywhere that they could, because Arabella could not get enough! And all the while, Caspian’s lips moved further down to her belly, to just above her sex. He looked up, a wickedness in his eyes, and then he dove his head between her legs and⁠—

Arabella sat up in bed, her breath catching in her lungs, her body trembling as if she had just sprinted a mile. The sweat coating her skin also drenched the bed, soaking the sheets so much that the covers were wet through.

Breathing heavily, desperate to get herself under control, Arabella did not need to question the cause of what had happened to her. The dream was fresh, burned into her memory, so real and so vivid that she almost looked around her room as if expecting Caspian to be there with her.

Where did that come from, Arabella?

She shook her head and sank back into bed. She did her best to push the dream away, trying to act as if it had not happened. But the more she tried, the more vivid it became. Caspian on her… His lips over her body… And how good it felt when he dominated and completely owned her.

It had been just one day since Caspian left for London, and Arabella had hoped that not seeing him would allow her to forget. Out of sight, out of mind, and she might have been able to pretend that the small moment which had passed between them was exaggerated, and there was thus no need to worry about it.

One day… A single day and evening without having seen Caspian, and this was her reward? It felt more like a punishment!

As much as Arabella wanted to believe that she was happy to avoid Caspian and act as if he did not exist, the truth of her dream spoke volumes. And as she tried to fall back asleep, tossing and turning, all she was able to think of was whether he was having the same dreams about her.

When Arabella woke up the next morning, she decided upon two things.

The first was that she needed to do everything that she possibly could to remove Caspian from her mind. There would be no more thinking about him when she let her mind wander. There would certainly be no more dreams! She had to forget about him.

The second thing was a desire to do as she had promised herself, and as Caspian had asked her to do. She was the duchess of the estate now; it was her home, and it was time that she treated it as such. No longer would she rely on somebody else to tell her what to do and how to do it, and no longer would her life lack agency. Her life was her own, and it started with how she ran the estate.

Better still, she was quite sure that if she focused on the second thing, then it would help her forget about the first. That was the plan, anyway.

But how would she approach such a thing? Arabella had never been in charge before, so she truly did not know what to do or how one might do it. She was a fish on dry land, a new world presented to her, and survival was not guaranteed.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Mrs. Roberston said to her that morning, when Arabella told her what she was thinking.

“Please,” Arabella said, desperate for advice. Caspian had told her that if she needed anything at all, Mrs. Robertson was the one to speak with, so she took that advice to heart. “Anything you can offer, I will be so grateful.”

“You wish to assert yourself in this home, yes?” Mrs. Robertson said, always smiling. “To make it your own?”

“That is the goal.”

“Then why not start by meeting those who keep it from disorder and chaos? The staff, is my meaning. If you like, I can arrange for you to speak to each of them. They are the life and blood of the estate, and learning who each of them is, even if you know them from sight, will make a world of difference.”

“The staff…” Arabella nodded along as the idea took hold. “Yes, that is a wonderful idea, Mrs. Robertson. Let us start there.”

And so, the day was spent meeting every single member of staff in Glastonbury Manor. It did not matter what their job was, how unimportant they were in the grand scheme of things. If they worked at the estate, Arabella spoke to them.

“Claude?” she asked the head cook; he was in his mid-fifties, had hard features, and was missing at least two fingers. “How long have you worked for His Grace?”

“Five years now, Your Grace,” he said, his voice rough, as if he had just wallowed in gravel.

“And do you like working here?”

“Enough,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh.” She blinked. “Is there something that might be improved?”

“I…” Claude hesitated. “It is not my place to say, Your Grace. It is good work, and I have no cause for complaint.”

“Please,” she pressed on him gently. “If there is anything you need at all, tell me now. I mean to improve things, and I cannot do that if I do not know what is wrong.”