“Excellent idea. Yesterday was a long and difficult day.” Trick rose, shrugged out of his surcoat, and started unlacing his shirt. “I believe I’ll join you.”
She leapt from the bed. “Oh! I thought this wasmychamber.”
“It is.” The shirt came off over his head, and her palms itched as she remembered how he’d felt against her hands last night. All warm and firm.
She swallowed hard. “Then where is your chamber?”
“It’s mine, too.” He sat to pull off his boots. “We’re married. We’re allowed to sleep together. I’ve a piece of paper to prove it.”
“But…” She glanced around wildly. “This is a suite, isn’t it? What’s on the other side of that door?”
“A dressing chamber. Feel free to use it. Your clothes are inside.” At her look of astonishment, he added, “Jane has been here all day, arranging your things. I gave her the evening off.”
“I thought you said she hadn’t unpacked yet. And she’smymaid.”
“I believe she’s in my employ, now.” His second boot hit the floor with a thud, and he began unlacing his breeches.
“You’re a duke, for heaven’s sake. Don’t you have a valet?”
“Cavanaugh. But I prefer to undress myself, much to the poor man’s constant chagrin.” He looked up. “Actually, I’d prefer to have you undress me, but…” A wry grin revealed that rakish chipped tooth, and the twinkle in his eye was unsettling. “No, I thought not. But I can play your maid again tonight, if you wish.”
“No, thank you.” She stalked over to the dressing room and shut the door behind her, then had to duck back into the bedchamber for a candle. Gritting her teeth against his laugh, she closeted herself again and began hunting for a night rail.
Every bit as fancy as the bedchamber, the dressing room had a delicate wood table and two upholstered, fringed stools in the center. One wall was covered with an enormous gilt-framed mirror, another wall was lined with wardrobe cabinets, and there were two walls of those newfangled chests of drawers.
The first drawer she opened was filled with Trick’s folded things, and she slammed it shut. She found her own clothes in the third chest she tried. Quickly she stripped out of the wedding dress, diving into the thickest, most voluminous night rail she owned. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of the amber bracelet, but she finally managed to remove it and set it on the little inlaid table.
The bracelet sat there, taunting her. Amber. The Duchess of Amberley…
Dear heavens, however had she ended up in this predicament? Exactly where she’d sworn she’d never be.
When she reopened the door, Trick was in the bed, and—from all she could tell—stark naked. She paced beside the carved gilt monstrosity, hoping he was already asleep.
His hand shot out to grab hers, stopping her in her tracks. “I won’t ever take you against your will. You needn’t worry.”
She bit her lip, eyeing his bare arm and shoulders. “Is that so?”
“Aye. You’re safe, I assure you.”
“Can…can I not have another room?”
“Is something wrong with this one?”
“It’s…too masculine.”
“Too masculine?”
“Yes.” She accompanied the word with a brazen stare, since nothing could be farther from the truth. The red chamber was satin and velvet, feathers and lace—altogether too fussy for her tastes. It looked like a brothel. Or what she imagined a brothel might look like, in any case. “This was your father’s chamber, wasn’t it? I believe I’d be more comfortable in your mother’s chamber. Where is it?”
“In Scotland,” he said shortly, patting the mattress beside him. “Come, Kendra, enough of this. I’m sleepy, and you look ready to drop.”
With a sigh, she walked around the bed and gingerly lay on top of the covers.
Sounding exasperated, his voice drifted over his shoulder. “Get under the blanket. It’s drafty in this gargantuan house.”
Giving in, she scooted beneath the coverlet. The feather bed was soft and comfortable. Lying flat on her back, she could feel the rise and fall of Trick’s breathing next to her, the warmth of his body even across the space that divided them.
When he rolled close and laid an arm loosely across her middle, she flinched.
