A queer flutter took up residence within her then, and it wasn’t mere arousal but something else. Spencer’s interest in the Lady’s Suffrage Society was genuine. Most gentlemen in her acquaintance were condescending whenever she spoke about her beliefs. They smiled indulgently as one would upon a younger sister who had asked for sweets.
“We haven’t many yet. My friend Clara, the Countess of Ravenscroft, arrived at the notion, but she recently married and is only just due to return from her honeymoon in America. At the moment, our number is about two dozen or so, including my sisters. We will need to begin with funding first, so that we can print pamphlets and attract more members.” She paused, realizing as she spoke just how much had altered in the time since she and Clara had first conceived of their plan. “I hope you will not object to my continued involvement.”
She held her breath as she awaited his response, for she was prepared to wage a bloody battle against him if she must. But Bo hoped that would not be the case, and that her husband would have an enlightened enough mind to appreciate that a woman should have the opportunity to be a man’s equal in every sense of word, law, and deed.
His leisurely caress continued, sliding over her calf. “Naturally, I will not stand in your way. God help the man who would try to thwart you from your course. But more than that, I think it a worthy cause. This will not be a war easily won, mind you, but there is no logical reason why a woman should be denied the right to have her voice heard. Lord knows most females are far more intelligent than their male counterparts anyway.”
Relief swept through her, and she smiled as his fingers trailed to her kneecap, running slow circles over it. “Thank you, Spencer. The Lady’s Suffrage Society means a great deal to me.”
“Just as you mean a great deal to me.” His gaze burned into hers. “In truth, I am impressed by your devotion. I admire your mind as much as I admire your stubborn nature.”
Had he just said she was important to him? And that he admired her? Hope was a fragile bud in her breast, threatening to burst open.Calm thyself, heart.“I do believe I must have misheard you, Duke, for there is no way you just told me that you admire my stubborn nature.”
He swept back down her calf. “I must be ailing.”
“Feverish,” she decided, swallowing when he rubbed her instep with his thumb. “Or perhaps you are an impostor. What have you done with the real duke? The one who glowered at me in his private library that first day?”
His sensual lips quirked in the briefest ghost of a smile. “He stole a hellion’s smutty book, and she kissed him in an ill-conceived plot to win it back.”
Her heart beat faster. The way he looked at her melted her faster than Wenham Lake ice beneath a blazing summer sun. She felt flushed and buoyant, weightless in the water, her every care washed away in the steady lick of the warm bath.
“And then?” she dared ask, before adding a post script for good measure. “Though I must object to your characterization of the plot as ‘ill-conceived.’ It seemed quite inspired at the time.”
“Ill-conceived is what it was, for she did not regain her book. Instead, she was compromised. And then he married her.” He gripped her ankle and tugged, pulling her to him effortlessly.
She floated toward him, straddling his powerful thighs, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And then?” she pressed again, bringing their lips to within an inch of touching.
And then she fell in love with him.
Her heart tripped, the breath leaving her in a rush. No, she could not say that. No matter how true it was. No matter how much she longed to. He was so near, so beloved, and how she wished she might have the bravery to confess her feelings. But in this matter, she was a coward, and she held her tongue and watched him instead.
He leaned forward, aligning their mouths for a quick, hard kiss before disengaging. “And then she attempted to seduce him in the bath, but he resisted.”
She raised a brow, reaching beneath the hot bath water to find his shaft. He was hard and full, ready for her. “Are you certain he resisted?” Feeling wicked, she stroked him, the silken sensation of the water between them heightening her awareness.
“Quite,” he gritted, “regardless of how tempting the hellion’s touch, he wished to worship her slowly and lingeringly.”
Oh. My.
She licked her lips. “How?”
“With his hands and his lips.” He kissed her again, catching the pout of her lower lip in his teeth before soothing the sting with a lick. “And his tongue.” He kissed her jaw, working his way down her throat. “Not to mention his cock.”
She could not suppress the sigh that left her lips. What wicked things he did to her. Who would have thought that the icy Duke of Disdain would marry the least behaved lady in all theton, and that beneath his frigid façade smoldered such unrestrained passion? He awed her. The pain he had suffered, the horrors he had endured, she could not fathom. But here he was, raging with desire, gloriously alive. She vowed then that she would do her best to give him however much time he needed to reconcile his past with their future, that she would not press or push him. When he was ready, he would tell her, and she would be waiting for him, arms and heart wide open.
Bo tightened her grip on his erect cock. “What if the hellion did not wish to be worshipped? What if she wanted to worship the duke instead?” she whispered. It was the closest she dared come to revealing her feelings for him.
He shook his head, catching her wrist beneath the water, gently removing her hand. “The duke insists.”
“The hellion was never particularly adept at complying with the orders of others.” She slid the hand he had dislodged from his staff up the taut plane of his abdomen, enjoying the ripple of muscle, the way he tensed beneath her touch. She watched the water dripping down the wall of his chest, and could not resist lowering her lips to catch a droplet before flicking her tongue over his nipple.
The breath hissed from him. “Damn it, Boadicea, you don’t know what you do to me.”
If she did as little as a fraction of what he did to her, she would be well pleased. As it was, she relished him this way, needy and aroused. His cock a steely protrusion against her thigh. All for her, because of her. She loved how much he wanted her.
“Mmm.” She worked her way up his chest, to his neck, licking the slight protrusion of his Adam’s apple. “You taste and smell so good,” she whispered against his wet skin. “Everywhere. It is my turn, Spencer.”
“Your turn?” he rasped, his hands sliding wetly up her back, beneath the curtain of her hair.
