“It isn’t entirely Barstow’s fault. When you were not…yourself, you spoke of many things. The wine cellar was one of them. I only asked him for clarification.”
A tearing sound met her ears. Roxboro was on his knees shredding her underthings.
“This marriage was made under false pretenses,” Sophia whispered. “Please forgive me. I will make things right, I promise. I’ll confess to my father that it was not you. I’ll write to him today.” Cool air struck her between the thighs, mixed with the warmth of his fingers.
“No, you won’t.” He straightened, a strip of cotton in one hand. Water from the bath still dripped from the ends of his hair and down his chest. “And you will cease this nonsense. Because I also knew.” An open-mouthed kiss met her shoulder. “Not about the freckle.” Hefrowned. “Though I’m now concerned you would think a drop of wine would resemble a freckle, which leads me to believe you may need spectacles.”
“The lighting was rather poor at the Perswick ball,” she replied tartly while Roxboro tugged on her chemise. “Goodness,” she exclaimed when one breast was exposed. “Was that entirely necessary?”
“This seduction is taking far too long.”
“You’re taking this rather well considering I’ve trapped you in marriage, Roxboro. Which I’m trying to correct.”
“I am not inclined to rid myself of you, Lady Sacrifice.” He cupped her breast and pressed a kiss to the skin above her heart. “I want this. I wantyou.”
“But—” the last word came out in a breathless whisper as his thumb pinched the tip of her breast.
“No, Sophie.” Roxboro’s lips brushed along hers, making Sophia shiver with want. “You may have mistaken that imposter for me, but there is no mistaking this.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “I’ve kissed dozens of women—”
“Likely hundreds,” she said against his mouth.
“But I’ve never had—the only thing I could compare it to is the euphoria of several glasses of brandy, before one becomes unsteady.”
“I’m not sure what to make of the sentiment.”
“It is meant as a compliment. So yes, I knew. After I kissed you properly and not like a slobbering puppy.” He shrugged and pinched the nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger a bit more forcefully.
A lightning bolt shot straight from her breast to nestle at the apex of her thighs.
“And yes, Damon has political aspirations. Lord Canterbell can ruin them. So at first, our marriage was for my uncle.” He tossed what was left of her chemise over one shoulder. “Now it is for me. I don’twant to spend the rest of my days stumbling about filled with scotch. Incapable of little more than playing cards and bedding women.” Regret hung in the air. “You’ve helped me realize I am—Alexander. More than a sum of my brandy-soaked parts.”
“You are not brandy-soaked.” She cupped his face.
“Not any longer, thanks to you. Unfortunately, sot or not, I’m still going to trip over things. Bump into tables. That will never go away. Society is so much more accepting of your limbs tangling up or slipping off a horse when they think you’re foxed. Won’t everyone be surprised when I return to London. Especially Freeman.”
“Freeman?”
“My secretary. He and my uncle have been managing my entire existence for as long as I can remember. But that is now at an end. I don’t even care whether Oakhurst returns. Probably best he doesn’t. And since we are being completely honest, Damon had already advised me to never bed you.” His mouth lowered to hers, stealing the air from her lungs as he backed Sophia towards the bed.
“Lord Damon was going to sue for an annulment.” Sophia wasn’t shocked.
“Yes, on the grounds that my cock doesn’t work. But now you’ve gone and ruined that, Sophie.” He lowered her carefully to the bed, naked now, save for her stockings. “Because.” Hardness pushed along her thigh. “I’m keeping you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
He’s keeping me.
“Why?” Sophia said, hands running up his arms, feeling the flex of sinew as he shifted. Roxboro, for a feckless sot and a somewhat clumsy duke, had a finely honed body. He was lean, yes, but—“Do you…fence?”
“And risk putting an eye out?” He chuckled as he climbed over Sophia’s naked body on all fours, pausing only to lower his mouth to one breast, sucking at the tip. “You taste so much better than I imagined and these…dear lord…magnificent.”
“You don’t ride, at least not well, so there must be something—” her words caught as Roxboro’s teeth grazed the hardened peak, alternately sucking and grazing her nipple with his teeth.
“Barstow. He was in the army, once. A long time ago. I made him teach me how to defend myself. We practice, he and I, when I am here. There is a footman in London who indulges me as well. When I’ve been sober.”
“I don’t think you are so clumsy after all, Your Grace,” she breathed as his fingers dipped between her thighs.
“No, I am. But Barstow’s training has helped the worst of it, and most definitely saved my life as this latest incident proves. Now, no more talking. Only moaning. Begging. Panting.” He pressed his mouth between her breasts, slowly gliding down Sophia’s body. “Whimpers of pleasure.” He nipped at the skin of her stomach, fingers gliding overher slit. “Cries of bliss.” Roxboro’s head moved lower and the pad of his tongue found without err the one spot aching for him most.
