“We’ll talk later,” he said grimly. “Right now, we have guests to entertain.”
~~~
Leave it to that bloodless bitch to ruin everything.
As Sinjin paced his bedchamber that evening, the memory of his stepmama’s unwelcome visit sent a dark undercurrent through his blood. He didn’t know what infuriated him more: that the self-righteous harridan had the gall to demand that he support her once he was duke or that she’d treated his father’s imminent death with such callous calculation.
Either way, Regina Pelham had destroyed the good cheer of his celebration. His mood had gone from buoyant to irritable, and he’d managed, just barely, to contain himself until the last of the party guests had left. Now everyone was gone, and he was plagued by a question: should he join Polly tonight?
He didn’t know if it was his black devil stirring or the normal turmoil that his stepmama always left in her wake. Or the fact that he’d learned his father was dying. Or that Polly—hisPolly—had been exchanging whispered secrets with bloody Theodore. His gut clenched, and he told himself not to think about any of it now because such ruminations would only ramp up his inner chaos. What he needed to do was to compose himself.
His hand itched for the locket, to hold its comforting weight in his palm until he calmed. He wondered if he could ask Polly if she still had the blasted thing—then he shook his head at his own absurdity. What did some stupid locket matter when he couldn’t trust himself to go to his wife’s bedchamber tonight?
The very idea of separation angered him. They’d shared her bed every night thus far—and some of the mornings and afternoons as well. And despite the heat burgeoning in his loins, it wasn’t just about lust. It also had to do with having her close, knowing that she would be by his side when he awakened. That she would be by his sideperiod.
You’re in a dangerous mood tonight. You can’t risk it, his inner voice said.What if you expose the disaster that you are?
He would have to leave, he decided. Go to the apartment that was waiting for him.
Just as he was searching for his portmanteau—where did Strickley hide the damned thing?—the barrier between their rooms parted, and Polly came into his domain. She was wearing her chintz wrapper, her hair loose and damp from her bath. She looked so sweet and uncertain and determined that he went hard immediately beneath his dressing gown.
She stopped a few paces short of where he was standing by a chaise longue. She faced him, her clear eyes taking him in. “May we talk, Sinjin?”
“It’s not a good time.”I have to get out of here. I want to fuck you so badly, and I don’t trust myself.
“Clearly, your stepmama’s visit has upset you, and you said we would talk about it later,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“I really think we ought to,” she said earnestly. “My mama always said it’s not good to go to bed angry.”
“Well, I’m not married to your mama,” he said, sounding like a right bastard.Rein it in, man.“If you’ll recall, we promised each other privacy in our marriage. I’m asking you to drop the matter.”
She gnawed on her lower lip, her wide, clear eyes searching his face—and, devil and damn, that sent another surge of heat to his groin.
She came a step closer. “I know we agreed to privacy, but I can tell you’re upset,” she said softly. “I just want to help.”
She touched his arm, and that light caress over his bulging bicep snapped his self-control.
“You want to help me?” he said.
She nodded vigorously.
“Then take off your robe.”
Her lashes fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings, her throat bobbing in the vee of her robe. “I think we ought to talk first—”
“I think we ought to fuck.”
Color rose up her cheeks. “Sinjin, thatword—”
“Is what we’re going to do if you stay. If you don’t want to get tupped, then get out of here and leave me to my peace,” he said flatly.
It was the best he could do to get rid of her. Opposing forces tore at him. He wanted to protect her from his devilish mood—wanted her to leave. He also wanted to stake claim to what was his, to screw his cock inside her snug little hole until she screamed his name…
He stood, tensed and aroused as hell, waiting for her to leave.
Her hands went to the belt of her robe. In a fluid motion, she untied it and shrugged off the chaste covering... and, God Almighty, she wore nothing beneath. Saliva pooled in his mouth as his gaze roved hungrily over her round, coral-tipped breasts, her flaring hips, that tawny nest between her thighs. Her shoulders drew back, and the defiance in her eyes aroused him even more than her other charms.
