“You’ve caught me.” He grinned at her, unfairly handsome, looking every bit the charming young man who had stolen her heart long ago. “That’s because itisself-serving. I’ll not lie, Vivi. I want to touch you. Everywhere and often. I want to explore every inch of you. To kiss you everywhere. To make you—”
“Hush,” she interrupted, clapping her hand over his mouth to keep any further revelations from being made, for they were putting her determination in dreadful peril. “Not another wicked word out of you.”
Because heaven help her if he said anything else. If he completed what he’d been about to say. She thought she knew.
To make you come.
Her sex throbbed at the thought of him visiting similar pleasure upon her again. Of how much she would like it. Of how desperate she would be for him to indeed touch and kiss her all over her weak and willing body.
He kissed her palm, making her tear her hand away, even as the action sent a jolt of longing straight to her core.
“I promise to behave myself,” he said.
And Vivi didn’t believe him. Not for one moment. Because Harcourt Sherborne, Ninth Duke of Bradford, had never behaved himself in any capacity, and she didn’t expect him to begin now.
* * *
Doinghis utmost to keep his raging desire for his wife under control, Court escorted Vivi to the bathroom adjoining her suite. Honoring her wishes, he had left her in her stockings, chemise, and drawers. Much of her mouthwatering skin had been bared to his hungry gaze, though still not enough. The state of his cock was a testament to how beautiful and tempting she was, given the hideously sodden fabric sticking to him everywhere. He was itching to tear it from his back and sink into the welcoming embrace of a hot bath himself.
The sight of her in that red satin corset with its black lace had made him instantly hard despite everything, and he’d been trying desperately to distract himself so that he could honor his word and play the gentleman. Helping her to take down her hair hadn’t helped. He had always adored the long, wavy golden locks she kept restrained in neat buns and Grecian braids. It shone like pure gold in the sunlight, and it was even longer now than he remembered, trailing down her back to brush the top of her delectable derriere.
She stopped them at the threshold to the bathroom, her shoulders tense. “Thank you, Court. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Disappointment curdled his gut. A part of him had hoped that their earlier interlude in the bailey had meant that she was softening toward him. That she might allow him back into her bed and, eventually, back into her heart. But it seemed that the ease that had fallen between them at the castle had been replaced by her iron-willed determination to keep him at bay.
He knew he owed her his patience and a thousand other favors. Still, now that he had returned and she was within reach, he wanted nothing more than to be the husband she deserved. In every sense.
“My steward wrote that you renovated the old bathing room here,” he said, seeking to prolong his time in her presence. “Will you not allow me to see it?”
Her lips tightened, and he could tell she was about to argue.
“A quick peek inside, and then I’ll leave you to your night,” he cajoled.
She nodded, looking reluctant and wary.
God, he hated that, even if he knew the fault was purely his own.
“Very well,” Vivi allowed. “One peek, nothing more.”
He reached for the door, opening it to the warm steam and sweet scent rising from the prepared bathtub at the room’s center. Court took in the tiled floor and walls, the intricately carved vanity and mirror, and couldn’t deny that the transformation, like so many others she had created here at Sherborne Manor, was an excellent one.
“It’s lovely, Vivi,” he said, his gaze sliding over the tub again and finding a curious sight. “But where has all your bathwater gone? Perhaps the stopper became loose. I’ll draw some more for you.”
He moved toward the tub, intent on his cause.
“No,” Vivi said, hastening after him and catching his sleeve, sounding frantic. “There’s no need for you to do that.”
Another two strides, and he was towering over the tub, and realization hit him, sudden and hard.
The water hadn’t drained from the tub. There was just scarcely any water in it, the tub filled to a shallow depth of a few inches and no more. The stopper was firmly in place, and there were no sounds, nor any other signs suggesting water was actively slipping away.
“Why is it not filled?” he asked her quietly, sensing there was a reason by the way her countenance shifted, her already ivory skin growing even more pale.
Needing to know.
“Please go,” she said quietly, distraught.
There was not a chance that he would leave her like this.
