Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 167 - Hundred And Sixty Seven

The heavy oak doors clicked shut, sealing out the noise of the hallway, the bustling servants, and the energetic Aunt Rowena. The silence in the Duke’s private chamber was instant and blissful.

Ines let out a long, shuddering breath. Her shoulders, which had been held high with ducal dignity since they arrived, finally slumped.

She walked to the dressing table. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, inlaid with rosewood, sitting before a mirror that reflected the afternoon sun. She untied the ribbons of her bonnet. Her fingers were a little clumsy from fatigue, but she managed to pull the hat free.

She dropped her bonnet on the dressing table. It landed with a soft plop next to her silver hairbrush.

She began to peel off her gloves. One finger at a time, she pulled the fabric loose. She tossed them aside, not caring where they landed.

"I feel as though I am wearing half the weight of London," she murmured, reaching for the back of her neck.

Carcel walked up behind her. He didn’t say a word. He simply brushed her hands away and took over the task.

"Allow me," he said softly.

His fingers were warm against the cool skin of her neck. He began to undo the buttons of her traveling dress. They were tiny, stubborn things, but Carcel worked with patience.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

With each button that came undone, Ines felt a little more tension leave her body. The heavy fabric loosened.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She stepped out of the dress, letting it pool around her ankles in a heap of green wool. She stepped out of her petticoats. She removed her amethyst necklace, placing it carefully in its velvet box.

Finally, she was left in only her white cotton chemise. It was simple and thin, reaching down to her knees. The air in the room was cool, but the fireplace crackled with a welcoming warmth.

Ines turned toward the bed.

It was enormous. It was a four-poster bed made of dark mahogany, draped in heavy blue velvet curtains. The mattress looked thick and inviting, piled high with pillows.

She didn’t walk to it. She practically ran.

Ines jumped into the big bed. She scrambled over the quilt and collapsed into the center. The mattress was soft, absorbing her weight like a cloud.

She buried her face in the pillow. It smelled of lavender and fresh linen.

"I was so nervous," she muffled into the fabric.

She turned her head to the side so he could hear her.

"I thought your aunt would examine my teeth like a horse," Ines confessed. "Or ask me how many times I see my courses in a month. I didn’t expect... hugs."

Carcel chuckled. He stood by the side of the bed, watching his wife burrow into the blankets.

He reached up and began to loosen his cravat. He pulled the silk knot free and tossed it onto a chair. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and shrugged off his heavy riding coat.

"You can rest a bit," Carcel said. His voice was low and soothing. "You stayed up all night with me on the balcony, so you must be tired. Aunt Rowena can wait for her tour."

Ines sighed. She rolled over onto her back.

She turned and faced the ceiling. She stared at the intricate plaster molding above her.

"Okay then," she murmured, her eyes already feeling heavy. "I will just close my eyes for a moment. Just until the maid comes to help me change..."

She closed her eyes. The room was quiet. She expected to hear Carcel walking to his dressing room. She expected to hear the door open for a servant.

Instead, she felt the mattress dip.

Someone was on the bed.

Then, she felt something warm and heavy moving on her body. It was a hand. It slid under the fabric of her chemise, cupping her breast gently.

Ines’s eyes flew open.

"Carcel!" she gasped.

She turned her head sharply.

He was there. He had gotten into the bed. He was sitting beside her, his long legs stretched out on top of the quilt. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing his skin.

He was holding a small amber glass bottle in one hand. His other hand—the one that had startled her—was now resting on her chest, massaging her breast underneath her chemise.

Ines blinked, her brain trying to catch up with the sensation. His thumb moved in a slow, rhythmic circle, creating a friction that sent a jolt of heat through her.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice squeaking slightly.

Carcel didn’t stop. He looked calm, almost professional, though his eyes were dark with intent.

"Remedy," he said simply.

He removed his hand from her chemise for a moment. He uncorked the bottle with his teeth, setting the cork on the nightstand.

He poured a little of the bottle’s content in his hand. The liquid was golden and thick.

"This is sunflower oil," he explained. He rubbed his hands together to warm the oil. The scent of earth and sunshine filled the small space between them. "It will help you feel relaxed when applied. My mother used to swear by it for travel fatigue."

Ines looked at the glistening oil on his palms.

"Just stay still," Carcel said. "I’ll make you feel comfortable."

He leaned over her. He slipped his hands under the straps of her chemise, pushing the fabric down slightly to expose her shoulders and the top of her chest.

He began to work.

He started with her shoulders. His strong thumbs dug into the tight muscles at the base of her neck.

"You are carrying so much tension here," he murmured.

He kneaded the knots. It hurt a little at first—a good kind of hurt—and then the muscle seemed to melt under his touch. The warm oil made his skin glide over hers effortlessly.

Then, his hands moved lower.

He slid his oiled palms over her collarbones, tracing the delicate bones. Then, he moved down to her breasts.

He didn’t do it quickly. He massaged her with slow, firm strokes. He cupped the weight of them, his thumbs working out the stiffness in her chest muscles, circling the sensitive skin.

Ines let out a long, shaky exhale.

"Oh," she breathed.

It was intimate. It was shocking. But it was also incredibly soothing. The warmth of the oil seeped into her pores. The rhythm of his hands was hypnotic.

Ines stared at his face. He was concentrated on his task, watching his hands move over her skin. He looked devoted.

Ines thought to herself, "If Aunt Rowena knew Carcel did things like this, she will be shocked."

She imagined the lavender-wearing, loud-talking aunt walking in right now. She would probably faint. She thought Carcel was a grumpy bear who cared about duchy duties. She had no idea that the "Ice Duke" knew how to give a massage with sunflower oil in the middle of the afternoon.

It actually feels good, Ines admitted to herself. It feels better than good.

The soreness from the carriage ride was fading. The headache from the bonnet was gone. There was only the heat of his hands and the steady beat of her own heart.

She sighed inwardly. Her body felt heavy, sinking deeper into the mattress. Her limbs felt like water.

Carcel’s voice brought her out of her trance.

"Does it feel relaxing?" he asked. His voice was a low rumble, close to her ear.

He didn’t stop moving his hands. He rubbed the oil into her skin, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her chemise, teasing her.

Ines looked at him. Her eyes were half-lidded. She couldn’t form words.

Ines nodded as she closed her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered. "Very."

She surrendered to the sensation, enjoying the massage, enjoying her husband’s ministrations.