Waking Up With the Duke by Lorraine Heath Page B

took Walfort and I four years. We have no guarantee—”
    “Except if we don’t try, it won’t happen at all.”
    She didn’t understand this man. “Why are you willing to do this?”
    “To see you happy. If you want a lengthier explanation than that, I will need an abundance of wine.”
    “Perhaps that is explanation enough.” Yet she could not deny the sense that there was more. But did she really want to know it?
    He held out his arm. “Come. I have an excellent wine cellar here.”
    She placed her hand on his arm. “How can you appear so relaxed with what is to come later?”
    “I believe in living in the present, not the future. And right now my present involves dining.”
    S he wasn’t quite certain that she believed his claim of living in the present. He’d obviously given some thought to their future, because dinner had been designed for seduction. They sat at a small, round, cloth-covered table in a room with a balcony that overlooked the lake, which captured a full moon’s reflection. The windowed doors were closed because of the cool night air, but the glass was spotlessly clean and it was as though nothing existed between them and the view. A fire crackled in a nearby fireplace. Candle flames flickered in the center of the table, where orchids released their sweet scent. Moonlight, starlight, firelight, and candlelight provided the only illumination allowed to intrude into the room.
    It was cozy and intimate. And very seductive.
    The servants would bring in a course and leave, not even a footman remaining behind. She thought she should have been nervous, uncomfortable even, but he made no untoward advances.
    “Your servants have this down to an art,” she said. “You must often bring ladies here.”
    He poured more red wine into her goblet. “I’ve never brought a lady here.”
    Her gaze clashed with his. She read the truth of his words in the clover green. “Why me?”
    “The privacy. The seclusion. These servants are not likely to ever serve at the family estate or in London, so no one will ever identify exactly who you are.”
    “Do you not give the same consideration to your . . . paramours?”
    “I do.” He lifted his goblet, swirled the contents. “But my time with them usually involves only a brief interlude, which can be handled in various ways to ensure secrecy. And it’s in rather bad form for me to discuss other women. I’m not usually in the habit of doing so.”
    “I asked, which I suppose was bad form on my part. I apologize. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”
    “For one thing, stop thinking about what it is we’re doing here.”
    “Much easier said than done.”
    “Drink some more wine.”
    “Do you want me snookered?”
    “Not particularly, but I do want you more at ease.”
    She sipped her wine, licked her lips, searched for a safe topic. “Do you fish in your lake?”
    “I do. Have you ever gone fishing?”
    “No.”
    “I suspect you would be very good at it.”
    “Why?”
    “It requires patience.”
    “Are you patient, then?”
    “Usually.”
    She heard in his voice the echo of the one time, the one night, he wasn’t. She didn’t want to travel there. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to carry through on her reason for being here.
    “I heard that Westcliffe and his wife had another son.”
    Ainsley’s smile was that of a proud uncle. “Yes, Rafe. As handsome as his father. Takes to crying a good deal of the time, though.”
    “Your mother must be beside herself with so many grandchildren already.”
    “I believe they make her feel old.”
    “Perhaps that is the reason she has such a young lover.” Before he could respond, she held up her hand. “My apologies. I do not mean to sit in judgment—”
    “My mother enjoys her notoriety. I doubt there is a single person in the aristocracy who doesn’t believe Leo is her lover.”
    “Do her scandals embarrass you?”
    “My mother is one of the strongest and most courageous women