For her.
Daria flipped onto her back and flung her forearm across her forehead. Tears filled her throat.
After he’d made love to another, he’d attempted to seduce Daria—and almost did. That slight brush of his lips along her neck, the way he’d teased the sensitive skin where her neck met her jaw, had set off a fire as wild and hungry as when he’d pressed her against his manhood.
She’d shown herself to be that weak with her devastatingly powerful rake of a husband.
Why should she care? She’d known very well in wedding the notorious Duke of Argyll—as he’d pointed out numerous times in their very limited acquaintance—that he was a bounder. A rake who’d never be loyal.
But in his arms that afternoon, he’d awakened her body from a long-unrecognized sleep.
To Daria, what occurred between them in the carriage hadn’t only been magic; it felt special.
To Gregory, the infamous Duke of Argyll, well, tonight proved how much—rather, how little—he’d been affected.
Adrift inside, Daria sank her sharp tooth into the corner of her index finger. The metallic, salty tinge of blood filled her mouth.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
This was too much. They’d been married but fourteen hours and she was falling apart? If she didn’t stop this spiral, it’d be her own heart breaking that would kill her.
“I wondered where you’d flown off to, little raven.”
Her heartbeat and breath fell out of step.
Daria sat up.
Gregory lounged in the doorway. Words failed.Say something. She didn’t want to be one of those breathless ninnies whose words failed from a rake’s smile. It was all her husband’s fault.
His blue eyes glimmered with the arrogance of a man who knew precisely the effect he was having.
“Hullo,” she said softly.
“A hello now, when you previously left without so much as a goodbye.” He winked; that quick up and down glide of his lashes blunted some of his disapproval.
Daria damped her lips. “I did say, ‘If you’ll excuse me.’”
Gregory pondered that a moment. “Were you coming back?”
Daria shook her head; her plait flopped sillily in the air.
“You had other more important matters to attend?” A smile ghosted his lips.
Her heart stuttered. “Y-Yes.” How she hated the affect he had on her.
Her husband’s eyebrows, a darker shade of blond than the now wet, chin-length blonde strands, dipped in.
He set Daria on her feet, and she mourned the loss of his warmth.
Oh, drat. She’d once had a governess who pinched her every time Daria spoke the first thing that popped into her head. This time, Daria discreetly pinched the side of her leg, punishing herself.
His shoulders relaxed. “I confess,” he purred, and she hated that her heart raced over his rogue’s tones. “You’ve handed my pride quite the beating, Daria.”
His pride had taken a bruising this night?His. “How so?”
The right corner of his mouth ticked up.
That life-sustaining organ picked up its pace. “You rushed off to spend our wedding nightalone.”
