Her palm pressed against her mid-section, willing the scones she’d eaten to stop pitching about. Food always seemed to settle her nerves. Not today, it seemed. But usually.
Roxboro was bound to be unpleasant once she confessed.
Any liking for her would immediately disappear, as would be expected. Papa would make sure the annulment was secured. Roxborocould remarry someone far more suitable than Sophia. Parliament wouldneverdeny him an annulment under the circumstances. He was a duke after all.
It’s the right thing to do.
She couldn’t live with the guilt for the rest of her life simply to stay a duchess. She’d been wrong and it was time for Sophia to admit her mistake.
Swinging open the door, Sophia came to a stop, mouth opening in surprise.
“Finally,” Roxboro snapped. “The water has almost cooled.”
She tried to avert her eyes from the sight of Roxboro in his bath. One in which he was no longer ill andcompletelyunclothed. The tub had been turned to face the bloody door connecting their rooms. Where he knew she would appear and see…. everything.
Damn him.
The steam from the bath had the dark tendrils of his hair curling about Roxboro’s temples. Not so much as a bubble floated across the surface of the tub’s water. Every inch of his magnificent form was…on display.
Wretch.
It was difficult, no, impossible, not to admire him. Her eyes, against Sophia’s will, traced down his chest dusted with dark hair, pausing only at the newly formed scars now decorating his torso, before lowering to—
She jerked her chin away.
“Something wrong?” Roxboro lifted a brow as if his nakedness was of no consequence to either of them. “You appear to be unsettled, Sahara.”
“Not at all,” Sophia snapped back.
“Good, because I had an interesting conversation with Barstow and Stone. Neither of whom bathed me while I was ill and feverish.”
Damn. She should have sworn both men to secrecy.
“I also put spoonfuls of broth between your lips.” Sophia lookedhim in the eye. “What of it?”
“Well, I don’t understand your shyness. You’ve already seen everything.” A lazy grin pulled at his lips. “And you are my wife. We should have no mystery between us.” His voice lowered. “Come. Here.”
Sophia’s body…. arched towards Roxboro at the command. Dear God, the blood was fluttering beneath her skin.
“Is there a reason you’ve summoned me, Your Grace? I was enjoying the gardens. Reading,” she managed to croak.
“You haven’t read a book to me in several days. Not since I pleasured you on the bed. You appeared to enjoy having me touch you, which is why I find your absence untenable.”
“Untenable?”
“Intolerable. Unacceptable. Unfathomable. Do I need to go on, or do you take my point?”
Dear God.He sounded entirely ducal. She wanted to beg his forgiveness. And the ache for him? It was everywhere, especially between her thighs, where he’d put his terribly elegant fingers.
“Was it necessary to yell at me from the window, Roxboro?” she countered. “Such behavior is unbecoming of a duke.”
“How would you know, Sophia? You’ve not been a duchess for very long. Nor are there any written instructions on how best to be a duke.” He cocked his head. “And before becoming a duchess, you were merely the far too direct, thumb your nose at society, much too forthright daughter of Lord Canterbell. I’m the only one brave enough to stand my ground with you. I’m told the other gentlemen lacked courage.”
All true. Every word. “I found them unintelligent.”
“But not me. Not when you ran out into the Perswick gardens with the most debauched duke in London.” He leaned forward. “Which means you’ve more than a bit of wickedness in you,Your Grace. At any rate,” he motioned to the soap sitting on a chair beside him. “I require my back washed.” Roxboro fixed a flat, arrogant stare on her.
“No. I do not care to be dictated to.” She trembled, clutching her skirts, knowing she would comply. There could be no repeat of what had transpired before. Allowing such a thing would…doom Sophia. She hadn’t confessed to him and—
