Without the suckling, of course. He meant to get to that later.
Thus, he’d decided to reward his newfound revelation and Sophia’s devotion by forcing her to readThe Lustful Turkto him. A highly erotic novel that no lady of good family should even know about, let alone read.
This was the most fun Alexander had had in ages. Or without a drink in his hand.
His first thought, once he was somewhat coherent again, was that he wasn’t dead. Despite the best efforts of the idiots who’d dared to come after his carriage, Alexander had survived. Over the years, he’d attracted a great many thieves, pickpockets, and murderous trollops, and Barstow thought it prudent the duke learn to shoot a pistol. Also, wield a sword, and handle a knife. He might well be as doomed as the last two Dukes of Roxboro, but that didn’t mean Alexander should make it easy for fate to dispose of him.
The second thought? When he’d realized the cool hands and gentle voice of his dreams belonged to his shrewish wife. Alexander had been so…elated at the sight of Sophia sitting by his bedside when he finally opened his eyes that a hum had started inside his chest.
The hum hadn’t abated. Not one whit.
“Why?”
“I can’t hear you.”
Sophia, damn her, gave him a suspicious look. Raised her chin which had sunlight spilling over the bridge of her nose. The loose curls around her face glinted like honey. “I’m quite comfortable where I am, Your Grace.” She regarded him as one does a predatory wolf. “But I’ll speak louder.”
Difficult chit.
“You held my hand while I was ill,” Alexander reminded her. “It speeds my recovery to have you do so again.”
So did all the instances when he pretended to be asleep and Sophiawould lean over and fluff the pillows, putting her rather lovely bosom within inches of his mouth. He’d been tempted several times to nibble at a breast but restrained himself.
Slowly, she stood and made her way to his side, perching on the edge of the bed.
Alexander immediately unfurled his fingers, gratified when she placed her hand into his. “I am instantly comforted.”
Sophia snorted in derision but did not move away.
“Continue, Your Grace, if you please,” Alexander said.
“I felt his hand rapidly divide my thighs,”Sopha choked over the words, attempting to regain her composure. A blush had taken up residence on her cheeks. Not a pretty pink, but more a violent crimson.
The lower half of Alexander’s body stirred to life.
What a relief. I thought things might be dead down there.
Alexander stroked the top of her hand with his thumb, drawing small, deliberate circles on her skin. She was warm and smelled like a rose garden, a scent that had been constant through all his feverish dreams. The aroma had been caught in his nostrils as the knife the assailant wielded pierced his chest. An image of Sophia burned in Alexander’s mind while he fought for his life. If he died, she would never admit it wasn’t he who had been in the Perswick garden. Or that he didn’t kiss like a puppy.
I…want to bed her.
The urge only grew by the day. Every bit of carnality in his body was focused entirely on Sophia which is why he hadn’t been able to fuck another woman in weeks. Nell had tried, bless her, plucking at his trousers just the way he liked. But Alexander’s cock refused to stand at her attentions.
Not the case at present.
“‘And quickly one of his fingers penetrated that place which,”Sophia’s voice trembled. “God knows, no male hand had ever before touched. If anything was wanting to complete my confusion, it was the thrilling sensationI felt, caused by the touches of his finger.”
The book abruptly slammed shut. Sophia kept her chin at an angle, refusing to look at him. “Wretch,” she said under her breath.
He was a wretch, among other, less savory things. Alexander tightened his grip on her hand. “Do you not like my taste in literature?”
“This book…is rather scandalous, as you well know, Your Grace.”
“I would have said erotic.” Entirely worth her annoyance, watching the way she avoided looking directly at him, only stealing looks at Alexander’s lower body, though he was fully covered by the sheet and coverlet.
“You are a horrible man.”
“I am,” he agreed cheerfully. He squeezed her fingers. “Why didn’t you just let me die, Sophia? You would have been free of me. Instead, you never left my bedside.”
