Page 155 of The Dueling Duchess

“So greedy,” he praised, holding up his weight on one elbow and reaching between them while his hips drummed.

Something was different about this climax—it was much, much more intense and the sensation seemed to reach even the tips of her toes and fingers, wrapping her in a thick fog of bliss.

Cecile was only half aware when Guy reached his own crisis, calling out her name as he flooded her with warmth.

“I love you, Cecile,” was the last thing she heard before she sank into unconsciousness.

Chapter 28

“Cecile!”

Cecile jolted upright and blinked, her heart pounding.

Rap, rap, rap. “Cecile, you need to wake up. You’ve got visitors. Important visitors.”

Even through the door and muzzy with sleep, she could hear the tension in Guy’s voice.

“Come in,” she called in a groggy voice.

The door opened a crack and Guy poked his head inside. For once, he wasn’t smiling.

“What is it?”

“You have two guests waiting for you down in the book room.”

“Who are they?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “One is a French solicitor named Jean Dumas and the other is the Duc de La Fontaine, who claims to be your cousin by marriage.” He paused and then said, “Your marriage.”

Cecile’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“Cecile?” he asked, a definite edge to his voice. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

“You probably won’t believe me, but I didn’t mean to withhold anything from you.” She winced. “I just . . . forgot.”

“You forgot you were married,” he said flatly.

Cecile floundered for words.

“How long shall I tell them you’ll be?” he asked, his expression grim.

“Thirty minutes. And send Mary up, please.”

He shut the door without another word.

Oh. God. Why was this happening now, of all times?

* * *

Cecile found Guy waiting for her outside the book room when she came down the stairs a bit more than half an hour later. She was wearing one of her nicest day dresses, a dusty rose color that flattered her.

“You look lovely,” he said quietly, his normal ebullience nowhere in evidence. “I’ve had Cook prepare a tea tray, just ring when you want it. Are you ready?”

She nodded.

He turned toward the door and she caught his wrist. “Guy.”

“Yes?” he asked her, his even tone at odds with the hurt in his brown eyes.