Rowan's mouth was demanding, stealing her breath and her logic all at once. Delaney's hands were tightly tangled in his blond messy hair. She pulled him closer, her dark green wool dress bunching between them. The faint, sweet melody of the pianoforte playing downstairs was completely drowned out by the loud, frantic beating of her own heart.
Then, reality struck the heavy wood right behind her back.
Knock… knock… knock.
The sound was sharp. It was polite, but it was incredibly loud in the quiet tension of the bedroom.
Delaney froze instantly. Her eyes flew wide open. She broke the kiss, gasping for air, her chest heaving against his bare, warm skin. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the hot haze of her desire.
"Your Grace?" a voice called out from the hallway. "It's me, Henderson."
It was the Duke's valet.
