\nglanced up and down the dim hallway. It was well past three in the morning, she
\nwas still dressed in the pink ball gown she\u2019d worn to the party, and she
\nclutched the small vial of Cupid\u2019s Elixir in her sweaty, guilty palm. She
\npressed her back against the shadowed wall not far from the Duke of Branville\u2019s
\nbedchamber. She could do this. More importantly, she <\/span>would <\/span><\/i>do this. She\u2019d
\ncome this far, hadn\u2019t she? What did a little sneaking about in the middle of
\nthe night matter?
\nShe\u2019d got detailed instructions to Branville\u2019s room from \nIt was not as if she was out to do anything particularly scandalous. \nDelilah shook off the thought and turned her attention back \nShe transferred the vial into her opposite hand and slowly reached \nShe clutched the door handle like a lifeline and closed her \nWhen the handle was turned as far as it would go, she pushed \nShe slipped inside the cool, dark room. Steady, deep breathing \nShe made it to the foot of the bed without incident and paused, \nHolding her breath, she lifted her skirts with her free hand \nThe outline of the duke\u2019s body was barely visible in the moonlight. \nShe waited in silence for a few moments to ensure his breathing \nOnce she was fully atop the bed, she paused and hoped the \nShaking away that unhelpful thought, she moved gingerly across \nHe blinked, and she held her breath. When he settled back \nHe blinked and rubbed at his eyes while Delilah held her \nShe pressed a hand to her throat. It was over. She was done. \nStill praying he wouldn\u2019t stir, she backed away from the \nDelilah gasped. \nFrom\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/span>No Other Duke But You<\/span><\/b><\/span>. Copyright<\/span><\/b><\/span>\u00a0\u00a9\u00a02019
\nDerek, who thankfully hadn\u2019t asked any questions about why she wanted to know.
\nAccording to him, the room was four doors to the right, just past the staircase
\non the third floor. The third floor was where all the bachelor gentlemen were sleeping.
\nIt would be a complete scandal if she was found lurking about alone at this
\ntime of night, but she\u2019d waited until the household seemed quite asleep and
\nthen waited a bit longer for good measure. Anyone who saw her now would be
\nskulking about themselves, which meant they would hardly be in a position to
\njudge her. She briefly wondered if she\u2019d run into Lavinia.
\nIt was more silly and frivolous than anything else. She\u2019d simply die, however,
\nif Branville woke up and asked her what she was doing sprinkling pixie water in
\nhis eyes. She\u2019d already decided to pretend as if she were dreaming, thinking
\nshe was Puck in the play. Sleepwalking. That would make all the sense in the
\nworld. Wouldn\u2019t it? She swallowed hard. Probably not, but she wasn\u2019t about to
\nlet the fear of being caught stop her. Besides, all of her and Lucy\u2019s matchmaking
\nhad turned into a colossal mess. If a spray of perfume could sort it out, so be
\nit. Of course, Delilah\u2019s conscience reminded her that she hadn\u2019t offered any of
\nthe perfume to Rebecca to use on Thomas. She didn\u2019t want to even contemplate that.
\nShe\u2019d already shared it with one other person, and that made her guilty enough.
\nThe image of Madame Rosa\u2019s disapproving, craggy face had haunted her all evening.
\nto the matter at hand. Pressing her empty palm against the darkened wall, she
\ninched her way along until she came to Branville\u2019s door. She felt like a spy.
\nThis was how professional spies did such things, wasn\u2019t it? Too bad she was too
\nembarrassed by her actions to ask the veritable house full of professional
\nspies who happened to be asleep behind other doors right now.
\nto grasp the door handle. The metal was cold in her bare hand. She\u2019d discarded
\nher gloves, deciding that they would make her actions more clumsy. The last thing
\nshe needed tonight was to be more clumsy than usual. Decidedly, she needed to
\nbe less so.
\neyes, steadying her shaking fingers on the knob. She was close, so close.
\nPraying that the door wouldn\u2019t squeak, she turned the handle slowly. The only
\nsound was the thumping of her own heart in her ears.
\nit, praying fervently that it wasn\u2019t locked. It took a moment before she realized
\nthe door was opening. Its hinges silent, <\/span>merci
\na Dieu<\/span><\/i>. Completely silent.
\ncame from the bed. Thank goodness, she hadn\u2019t woken the duke with her entrance.
\nShe could barely see a thing, but she didn\u2019t dare light a candle. A tiny stream
\nof moonlight filtered into the room through a small opening in the curtains on
\nthe far window. She used that to identify the hulking bed in the center of the
\nroom. She tiptoed over to it slowly, taking care in case there was anything to
\ntrip over. No doubt she would find it if there was.
\ntrying to quell her nerves and dispel her guilt. She clutched the vial more
\ntightly in her palm, shaking with fear and anxiety. Now that she was here, she
\nhad no earthly idea how to drop liquid on a man\u2019s eyes without awakening him.
\nBesides, how much of it was she supposed to use? Surely not much. She would
\nemploy the tiniest drops possible so as not to disturb him, but she also needed
\nto ensure the perfume touched his eyelids. Tricky business, this being a fairy.
\nShe had a sudden appreciation for Puck.
\nand tiptoed to the right side of the bed. Because it was summer, the bed
\ncurtains weren\u2019t drawn. The window was open, and a slight breeze blew through
\nthe crack in the curtains.
\nHe was turned away on his side, his back to her, his face toward the window.
\nShe would have to lean over his body to sprinkle the elixir on his eyes. The bed
\nwas tall. She must carefully climb up to do this task properly. She only hoped
\nshe didn\u2019t jostle the mattress enough to wake him.
\nremained steady, then she carefully lifted first one knee and then the other,
\nbracing them on the mattress and pulling herself up, still clutching the vial.
\nShe winced as he moved slightly in his sleep, but he kept his face turned away.
\nBlast it.
\nhammering of her heart didn\u2019t wake him. He smelled good, a combination of soap
\nand maleness that she wanted to breathe in. There was something vaguely familiar
\nabout his scent.
\nthe mattress on her knees until she came to a stop at his side. His shirt was
\noff. The beam of moonlight hit his smooth, muscled arm. She swallowed. The man\u2019s
\nchest was positively swoon-worthy. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves
\nand uncorked the vial. Then she carefully leaned over as far as she could to locate
\nhis eyes. They remained shrouded in the dark, but she took a guess as to their
\ngeneral direction and tipped the little vial as slowly and carefully as she
\ncould. He turned then, and she was afforded enough light to see that the first
\ntiny drop of liquid did indeed fall directly onto his eyelid.
\ninto sleep, she closed her eyes and said a brief prayer that she would get away
\nwith it a second time before tipping the vial once more to allow another tiny
\ndrop to fall on his other eyelid.
\nbreath again, paralyzed with fear. Soon, he settled back into his pillow and
\nhis breathing returned to its steady pace.
\nAll she had to do was extract herself from the bed and the room without being
\nseen or heard. The difficult part was behind her.
\nduke. Slowly. Slowly. She\u2019d nearly made it to the edge of the bed when he flipped
\nover to face her. A beam of moonlight slid over his sleeping features.
\nby\u00a0<\/span><\/b>Valerie Bowman<\/span><\/b>\u00a0and reprinted with permission from St.
\nMartin\u2019s Paperbacks.<\/span><\/b>
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