“I cannot wait to see you in that dress,” the Duke of Ravenhill told her with a rather rakish grin, once they were outside in the street together. “I only hope I can control myself.”
His arm came around her waist and while it startled Rose at first to be embraced in public she laughed when she remembered again that this man was her husband.
She leaned her head against Dorian’s broad shoulder.
“You must not leave me alone in such a dress. I would be terrified.”
At this, he laughed too.
“There is no danger of my leaving you alone; quite the opposite.”
“I look forward to that,” Rose returned, realizing that for the first time in her life, she was flirting with a man.
She had often seen other ladies flirting with gentlemen at social events, whether out of genuine interest, or only for entertainment. Rose, however, had never possessed either the wish nor the social skills to express real or feigned interest.
With Dorian, however, it was so different. He understood what Rose felt and longed for, and after last night, Rose understood this better too. She also understood Dorian’s own appetites better. His lust ran deep and strong and something in Rose aroused it to fever pitch. The physical expression of their mutual desire felt natural and true.
The sound of her name being spoken in hushed tones broke in on Rose’s warm reflections. She realized that a group of young women in a nearby shop doorway had recognized them and were talking of her.
“Yes, that’s her, Lady Rose Williams. She looks so innocent, doesn’t she? Who would have believed?”
“But did she really?” questioned a second woman.
“Yes, my cousin was there that night. He saw them with his own eyes, out in the gardens, bold as brass.”
“The Duke of Ravenhill had his fun in therosegarden by all accounts,” giggled another voice maliciously, playing on Rose’s name. “But he didn’t know it was a trap. She had her brothers waiting.”
“Look at him though,” sighed the first speaker dreamily. “I’ll wager that half of the ton’s young ladies would have sacrificed their virtue to trap a man like that…”
Rose felt ill and could feel the blood draining from her face. As her body stiffened, Dorian looked down inquiringly and then glanced back at the gossiping women with disdain.
“Can we go home now, Dorian?” she whispered, wishing that the ground would swallow her up.
He stopped walking and turned to face her.
“You don’t really care for what such foolish gossips say, do you?” he asked.
Rose shrugged miserably.
“If they’re saying that I did such terrible things to trap you, perhaps it’s what everyone believes. I would never have done that. I can’t bear to hear it.”
Dorian tipped up Rose’s chin to meet his eyes. They were dark, glowing and fierce, with the same intensity she had seen when he was moving inside her last night.
“Fate trapped us both that night, but now you are my duchess,” he stated. “Those women are only jealous that they do not possess your physical charms nor a husband who appreciates those charms as much as I do.”
Regardless of being in public, the duke bent his head now and kissed Rose’s mouth, in full view of the gossiping women. His tongue flickered at her lips, sending streams of fire down into Rose’s belly and weakening her knees. The gossips began to seem far away although they had not moved. How could a wolf provide such comfort?
“Come, let’s get back to our carriage,” Dorian said softly and purposefully as their lips parted, and he began to lead her onwards to where his coach was waiting at a corner.
“Are we going to do…all those things again when we get back to Ravenhill House?” Rose dared to ask him, her heart already racing.
“You really think I’m going to wait until we get back?” replied the Duke of Ravenhill in a low voice, accompanied by a deep, hungry laugh, as he helped her into the carriage and followed close behind. “My poor innocent Rose…”
“Oh!” exclaimed Rose as her husband closed the carriage door after giving an order to the coachman, and then tumbled her backwards onto the seat.
Chapter Fifteen
“There,” said Mabel with satisfaction, fastening the necklace and then stepping back from the looking glass to admire her work.
