“That’s not exactly true. Lord Glastonbury is a worthy candidate.” She hoped so, but Constantine hadn’t confirmed his viability as a potential husband.
The duke’s brows shot up. “Glastonbury is in the mix?” He grunted softly, then narrowed his eyes at her, which seemed to be the way he typically preferred to regard her. “Until he pays a call, it’s just your wishful thinking. You’ll need to do better than this if you want to keep your position.”
Sabrina’s frustration and distress from the succession of troubles neared a boiling point. “What position is that? I am the future Duchess of Evesham,” she said sweetly, feeling rather proud of her ability to stand up to him.
“As Cassandra’s sponsor,” the duke said sharply. “There is nothing I can do about your position in my family as Constantine’s wife, but hopefully you will serve your purpose.” His gaze flicked to her midsection, and it was clear he meant that she would bear her husband an heir.
“If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, I’ve a ball to oversee.” She didn’t bother trying to smile pleasantly or otherwise.
“Yes, you do. So far, it doesn’t seem to be going well.” Lines of disappointment creased around his mouth before he turned and left the drawing room.
Sabrina fought to take a breath. The heat of the air was cloying, and the stress of the evening was pressing down on her. As she walked into the hall, Constantine stepped from the stairs, his brow furrowed.
She hastened to meet him at the top of the stairs. “What’s wrong now?”
His eyes flashed with surprise. “Wrong? Nothing. I just ran into my father and—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Why did you think something was wrong?”
“Because everything is. There’s not enough champagne or ice or musicians. And we may have poisoned guests with the lobster cakes.” Hysteria started to thicken her chest. She reached for the stair rail to steady herself.
Constantine clasped her elbow and drew her to the passage that led to the backstairs. Opening the door, he gently pushed her into the dim space at the top of the stairs, then sealed them into relatively quiet solitude.
“Breathe, Sabrina,” he said softly, clasping her shoulders and running his hands down her arms. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”
“Everything I said is true, and your father also warned me to ensure your sister has a caller.” Her voice had risen as she’d spoken, and her breath was coming in rapid pants.
Constantine took her in his arms and held her against his chest where the steady beat of his heart had an instantly soothing effect. “Don’t fret. My father is an ass. Ignore him, please. The rest of it is beyond our control. The lobster cakes were removed, I hope?”
“Of course. However, I don’t know if anyone ate any. I couldn’t bear to ask.” She shuddered against him. “I’m going to be known as the worst hostess in London’s history.”
“No, you won’t. Everyone seems to be having a jolly time, especially in the gaming room.”
She pulled back and looked up at him. “Truly?”
He smiled at her and stroked his thumb over her cheek. “You are flushed, and your heart is hammering. I would prefer to be the one to provoke this reaction.” He lowered his head and kissed the spot just in front of her ear before flicking his tongue against her earlobe.
“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working.” She could not ignore the desire pooling in her belly, nor did she want to.
“Excellent.” He cupped her nape and kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers. He tasted of hock—good hock—and smelled of cedar and spice. Her senses rejoiced at the familiarity of him, and she gave herself up to his embrace.
When he cupped her breast, she gasped against his mouth. “Constantine, we should probably return to the ball.”
“Probably. But will we be missed for five minutes?” He pivoted with her, steering her toward the door that led into her dressing room, which the maid used when she came from the back stairs.
“Where are you taking me?”
He opened the door and moved them into the small chamber. “You know where this leads, so that can’t be what you truly want to know. I think you want to know what I have planned.”
“I can well imagine, you rogue. You will crumple my gown or mess my hair. Or both.”
“What if I could avoid doing that?” He kissed along her throat. “Remember the other night when you were on your knees and I came into you from behind?”
A feverish heat broke over her skin and need pulsed between her legs. How could she forget that? She’d behaved like an utter wanton. “You want to go into the bedchamber?”
He lifted his gaze to hers and gently shook his head. “That would crumple your gown for certain. I want you to bend over the end of the chaise.” He inclined his head past her to the chaise in the opposite corner.
She turned to look at the piece of furniture, the high end of which was at about the level of her waist. This was madness. She ought to refuse him and march them back out to the ball. Her body did not agree, and so it was that she walked to the chaise as if carried by wings that didn’t belong to her.
Standing at the high end of the chaise, she looked back at him over her shoulder. He came to her, his eyes slitted with desire, and kissed her again, hot and needy.
He hiked the back of her skirt up, and she bent at the waist, letting the chaise balance her. She put her arms before her onto the seat as he caressed her backside.
“Hurry,” she breathed as his fingers slid into her crease, teasing her and setting her entire body aflame.
“I’m afraid I must. Not just because we can’t take long, but because the sight of you in that gown has been taunting me all evening. And now, seeing you like this…” He thrust a finger into her sex, making her gasp.
“I wish we had more time.” He put his cock against her backside, and she widened her stance, eager for him to enter her. “Later, we will, and then I will do everything I don’t have time for at the moment. Until then—” He drove into her, pushing her against the chaise and creating friction against her clitoris.
He gripped her hips and let go, offering them both up to mindless sensation. She thought only of his touch and the delicious slide of his cock. After only a handful of strokes, her orgasm began to build. She pressed back against him, desperate to take him as deeply as possible. His fingers dug into her flesh as he buried himself to the hilt.
“Hurry, Constantine.” She needed to come. Lights were already dancing behind her eyes.
Increasing his pace to a near frenzy, the sounds of their bodies filled the small space with an erotic symphony. He pushed her forward against the chaise, and she exploded, her sex clenching down around him as devastating shudders wracked her body.
She completely lost sense of time or place and didn’t come back until he helped her straighten. Her gown fell over her legs, and she vaguely realized that he’d tidied her up.
“Thank you.” She felt unsteady and wholly satiated at the same time. Her thighs quivered but the rest of her sang with joy and relief. “You have solved my problems, I think.”
He laughed, then cupped her face. “Good. That is my job.” He kissed her, but it was a brief touch as they were interrupted by a knock at the door they’d come through.