Page 87 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“You want to kiss again? Here? Now?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes glittered with excitement and blossoming sexuality. It was impossible for any man to resist, and Warwick didn’t try. His mouth swooped down to capture hers. She sighed, then melted into his embrace, kissing him back with a fervent passion that matched his own. A burning, consuming need exploded through his veins. He pressed her against an oak tree, and the low-cut bodice was down, and her lush breasts filled his hands. His thumbs traced the hardened nipples and her mewling sound reverberated like a firecracker in his skull.

“I’ll combust if I don’t have you here and now,” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes. Yes. I feel the same.”

His breath grew ragged as if he’d run the perimeter of the Kirkland’s vast gardens. “No, Adeline. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Her fingers dug into his biceps. “I do. I feel a burning ache for you.”

“Where? Show me?”

She clutched his shoulders and arched up, offering her breasts to his hungry gaze. Whatever constraint he had, snapped. He suckled and teased one rosy nipple, then the other. He pulled her between his legs, and she rubbed against him, seeking friction. He reached for the hem of her gown, touched her garter, desperate to feel the slick folds of her femininity. Desperate to plunge balls deep in her hotness and possess her once and for all.

She arched against his leg and moaned. “Oh Warwick.”

“Warwick! I say Warwick. Are you out here?”

Warwick pulled away just as Lord Drake came around the corner. “What is it, man?” He moved to block Adeline from his friend’s view. Sexual frustration raged inside him like a hot tide.

Drake took in the scene, but it seemed to make no impression on him. There was a wildness in his gaze. “The babe is coming! Christ! It’s too early. Ana needs Adeline.”

…

Adeline threw open the duke’s carriage door before the wheels came to a full stop. She ran into the Drake residence and sprinted up the stairs. A housekeeper was waiting and led her straight into the bedchamber.

“Ana!” Adeline called out.

Lady Drake was on the bed. Pale, sweating, and in the throes of a painful contraction, she lifted a hand and cried out, “It’s too soon. Dear God, it’s too soon!”

Adeline hurried to her side and took her hand. “I’m going to examine you now.”

Ana nodded, and Adeline lifted the cotton gown. She was already dilated, and from the strength of the contractions, Adeline knew the birth was coming fast. Then she felt the lady’s swollen abdomen, and Adeline drew in a harsh breath.

The baby was breech.

Dear God. A breech birth complicated the delivery. Some doctors claimed only one could survive—the mother or the babe.

Adeline didn’t believe in those odds.

Looking into the woman’s anguished face, Adeline reached for her resolve.

Asvads! She prayed for her mother to guide her.

…

Another scream came from upstairs. Drake was in a panicked state. Warwick had to physically restrain his friend from bursting out of the room and heading for the grand staircase.

“Try to stay calm,” Warwick said.

“Easy for you to say. The babe is early, too early.”

“Nothing will happen. Have another whisky.” Warwick splashed a good amount of the golden liquid into two glasses and handed one to his friend.

Warwick ran a hand down his face as he watched his friend pace the Aubusson carpet. It had been hours. He didn’t know much about the delivery of babies, but he knew something was wrong from the screams and the apprehension on the housekeeper’s face as she carried up buckets of hot water and clean linens.