His climax roared over him. Waves of heat boiled up from his balls. He shuddered with ecstasy as his seed jetted hotly inside his wife, as her fulfillment wrung him of his own.
Afterward, he rolled them both onto their sides so that they faced each other, their bodies still joined. He kissed her forehead and ran a possessive hand over her hip.
“How do you feel?” he said softly.
“Wonderful.” Eyes dreamy, she whispered, “I love you, Alaric.”
He went still. Even as wild wings of pleasure beat in his chest, an equally strong panic set in. The past bared its feral claws, humiliation gutting him as he recalled the times he’d spoken of love, how Laura had extorted countless such professions from him. How desperate he’d been for her affection and how in the end it hadn’t been enough. Howhehadn’t been enough.
You’re a selfish bastard. You’re not capable of love—or deserving of it.
Sudden anger chilled his insides, banishing the afterglow. He’d been clear with Emma, honest from the start. She couldn’t expect his love when he had none to give, and lying would only make matters worse in the long run.
Suspicion pierced him.Does she think she can manipulate me? Because she convinced me to elope with her, does she think she has me wrapped around her finger?
That misconceptionhadto be nipped in the bud.
“Thank you, pet,” he said coolly, “but it isn’t necessary.”
The lazy contentment in her eyes faded. A myriad of emotions flitted across her face, and he tensed for the inevitable backlash. For the accusations and tears.
After a moment, she laid a hand on his jaw. Her eyes steady and clear, she said, “I know.”
When she said nothing else, profound relief trickled through him. She wasn’t trying to ambush him, control him. Shame spurred his heartbeat, yet he didn’t know how to apologize... so instead he kissed her. The ready sweetness of her response flummoxed him, and despite their recent coupling, desperate hunger rose in him again.
Tumbling her onto the pillows, he let his need take over, intent upon showing her that passion was enough to build a marriage on.
Because it had to be.
Chapter Thirty-Six
On her fifth morning at Strathmore, Emma decided that she’d had enough.
Not of her new home, which turned out to be magnificent despite it not being an authentic castle. She was certain her sisters would be tickled pink over the grand turreted towers and the view of the rolling green hills and shimmering loch from the battlement.
She didn’t even mind her new role as duchess, which was not as intimidating as she’d imagined. Returning from London, Jarvis had offered felicitations with a twinkle in his eyes and then proceeded to introduce her to the staff. Emma took pains to remember everyone’s name and was relieved to find them an efficient, no-nonsense bunch. She especially liked the cook, Mrs. Murray, who’d generously shared the recipe for the duke’s favorite Scotch pie.
Overall, Emma thought she was settling quite nicely into her new life—with one exception: her husband was driving her mad.
As she descended the sweeping staircase, she reflected that her present state of exasperation wasn’t due to his cool reception to her words of love. His reply had smarted—but, truthfully, it hadn’t surprised her all that much either. He’d told her his views on love, and she didn’t expect him to change overnight, especially knowing what she did of his history.
Her love was a gift; she’d offered it without strings.
At the same time, she didn’t expect him toblock her outbecause of it.
Ever since their wedding night, Alaric’s behavior had been... strange.
On the one hand, some of his old impassiveness had returned. ’Twas as if the progress they’d made before their marriage had eroded. Any time she brought up a more intimate topic of conversation, he regressed to politeness. Or shut her out with excuses—he had tenants to visit, correspondence to dictate.
Paint to watch dry on a wall, perhaps?
Her fear that she’d made a mistake in her marriage might have turned into full-fledged panic... if Alaric hadn’t expressed his need for her in other ways.
Because even as he withdrew from her emotionally, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her physically. When they were together, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Yesterday, they’d had a picnic in one of the estate’s wooded glens, and blood rushed beneath her skin as she recalled their lusty frolic outdoors. How he’d bade her to sit atop his mouth, his tongue impaling her as she writhed in helpless pleasure. After her bursting climax, he’d pressed her onto her hands and knees, entering her swiftly from behind, the passionate sounds of their coupling echoing through the forest…
Then he’d brought her home to his bed and made love to her until dawn.
There were the tokens of his affection as well. He showered her withthings. Everything from baubles to bonbons—and yesterday he’d given her a beautiful silver-white mare that he planned to teach her to ride. The day before that he’d bought her a desk inlaid with mother-of-pearl and had it set up for her in his study so that they could work in each other’s company.
