“Don’t tell me you believeThe Angelbusiness.” Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
“You do not find the moniker fitting?”
“No one is that much of a paragon. Besides, thetonis prone to exaggeration and inaccuracy. Look at how they labeled youThe Devil Duke,” she said indignantly, “when you’re the most honorable, loyal, and loving man I’ve ever met.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he murmured.
“It’s the truth. So if thetongot you all wrong, what are the chances that they got it right with Tremont? Do you know the wags claim he hasn’t had a mistress or lover since his wife’s death?”
“I’ve heard the talk, yes.”
“His wife died over four years ago. He’s a man in his prime,” Emma persisted. “Do you truly think that he’d mourn for that long?”
“If I ever lost you, I’d mourn for the rest of my days.” Her husband tipped up her chin, his touch possessive, his eyes hot and intent. “There’s no one else for me, Emma. Ever.”
Her insides melted. “I love you, too.”
His kiss made her senses spin.
“Darling?” he said.
She smiled dreamily up at him. “Hmm?”
“See if you like it.”
“Like what?”
With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face the looking glass once more. She blinked at the dazzling addition to her reflection. She’d been so absorbed in their kiss that she hadn’t felt him fasten the necklace on her.
“Oh… it’s beautiful.”
She touched her fingertips to the red velvet band, then to the large diamond-encrusted charm nestled in the hollow of her throat. Within the square frame of the charm was the initial “S,” also studded with diamonds.
While she was touched by Alaric’s gift, his extravagance could be a bit overwhelming. Last year, after visiting their friends’ country seat, she’d remarked upon the lovely orangery. Before she knew it, Alaric had summoned architects and builders to their London home and had a miniature conservatory added for her enjoyment. The glass-walled space lush with blooming citrus was now her favorite room in the house.
“The necklace is lovely, but I really don’t need more lavish gifts,” she said.
“It’s not a gift for you. It’s for me.” His eyes gleamed as he toyed with the choker. “I want you to wear it with your costume at the masquerade.”
Understanding turned her cheeks pink. “It’s… a collar?”
“So everyone knows who you belong to, my sweet puss,” he said huskily.
A secret thrill shot through her; she did adore his masterful streak. At the same time, she couldn’t help but query, “And what willyoube wearing to remind you who you belong to?”
In answer, he cleared the surface of the vanity with a sweep of his arm, and before she could scold him for the mess he’d made, she was hauled from her seat and plopped on the table. She squealed as her back pressed against glass, an even harder presence wedged between her splayed thighs. Her robe parted, slipping off her bare skin.
Breathless, she stared into her duke’s smoldering green eyes.
“I’m not bloody likely to forget who holds my heart. But have it your way, lass,” he said, “and give me a reminder.”
Her sex fluttered at the emergence of the Scottish lilt, the flush of arousal on his slashing cheekbones. And that was before he cupped her milk-swollen breasts, his long fingers playing with the tender peaks. When he bent his head, the shocking, exquisite suction shot straight to her core, rustling a moan from her throat.
“That’s wicked,” she managed.
“Aye, and you love that about me,” he murmured. “Just as I love doing this to you… and this…”
Under his naughty ministrations, her thoughts blurred into a streak of vibrant red pleasure. Truly, there was no arguing with the man. With her typical pragmatism, she gave up and happily surrendered to His Grace’s loving.
