“May I?” he asked, as if he required her permission to enter the room.
“Of course.” She moved toward him, drawn as ever.
The attraction between them was magnetic. Undeniable. And they were married now. It had all happened as if a feverish dream, and part of Virtue felt as if she would wake any moment to realize none of it had been real.
He met her halfway across the room, and they stopped just short of each other. The desire to throw herself into his arms was strong, but she knew she could not allow him such power over her so quickly. Already, he had persuaded her to marry him when she had been most adamant that she would never wed at all. What else could he convince her to do with that wicked mouth and his knowing touch?
“Have you settled in?” he asked. “The furnishings and wall coverings and pictures are yours to change. You may choose what you prefer and see the chamber decorated as it pleases you.” He cast a wry glance around the room. “Given all this gilt and pink, I can only suspect the previous duke allowed one of his mistressescarte blanche. My mother’s tastes are far too austere for such a gawdy showing.”
She had supposed the previous occupant had been the dowager duchess; how odd and scandalous for his father to have kept a mistress at Hunt House, and to have allowed her free rein over the decoration of the duchess’s apartments.
“Thank you for your generosity,” she said, seeing the chamber through new eyes.
And seeing Trevor through new eyes as well. There was hurt lurking beneath his arrogant exterior. A fractured past not so different from her own. Like her, he had never been close to his father. And albeit in a different sense, he lacked a mother as well.
“You needn’t thank me, darling. This is all quite pitiful on my behalf. If I had done this properly, the room would have been readied for you, and we would be on our way to our honeymoon by now.” He paused, looking about the chamber once more before extending his hand. “Come with me if you please. This room is far too filled with ghosts for my liking.”
She took his hand, and their fingers laced together. Virtue found herself enjoying the newfound luxury of easy touch. If there was anything to recommend marriage thus far, it was this quite pleasant relaxation of propriety between them. Not that they’d cared much for that before, either, she thought as he led her into the familiar confines of his chamber. Their lack of adherence to rules had, after all, led to their hasty marriage.
When they were ensconced in his room, the connecting door closed to ward off unwanted spirits of the past, he lifted her hand to his lips for a reverent kiss, his dark eyes burning hotly into hers.
“Alone at last, duchess mine.”
Virtue almost looked about to find the duchess he was addressing.
Her.
They were married. Before her stood her husband. Ridgely. Trevor William—as she had discovered that morning his middle name was—Hunt. The guardian with whom she had clashed, and kissed, and more.
“I must thank you for the book as well,” she said softly, reminded anew of the priceless gift. “I cannot imagine how dearly it must have cost you. Boccaccio’sDecameron. It belongs in a museum, not in my unworthy hands.”
“Your hands are most worthy.” He kissed her palm, as if to prove his point, his tongue flicking out to trace the line running from her palm to between her thumb and forefinger. “And as for the cost, you needn’t fret. I was able to purchase it for half the price the fellow before me had paid, and at the veritable bargain of less than one thousand pounds.”
She shivered as he sucked on the surprisingly sensitive space between her fingers next. “Nonetheless, that is a small fortune.”
“The previous owner overestimated his ability to build his libraries. Fortunately, I’ll have no such problem with building yours.”
“Mylibrary?”
“Yes.” He nipped the tender flesh he’d just suckled with his teeth. “Your libraries, plural, darling. I promised them to you, did I not? Every library we own is utterly at your disposal. Just as I am.”
Oh, she liked the sound of that far too much.
“You and your libraries both?”
He smiled against her palm, his gaze holding hers. “Both.”
“Oh.”
She had intended to say something far more intelligent, but in the end, she was too overwhelmed with a rush of sensation to manage anything else.
He pressed another lingering kiss to her hand and then rose to his full, towering height. “My God, you are so delicious. I could tear that gown off you, throw you over my shoulder, carry you to my bed, and fuck you for the rest of the afternoon. And all evening, too.”
Wicked words. Sinful words. She was ablaze.
“Why don’t you, then?” she dared.
“Because Pamela warned me against falling upon you like a starving lion being fed his first meal in a week,” he said, grinning. “I am trying to be a gentleman, but it’s damned difficult, when all I want to do is strip you bare and cover you in kisses from head to toe.”
