“You are dipped in sunshine, aren’t you, Duchess?” He shook his head. “Suffice it to say watching you eat a meat pie will only make a man think of you putting something else between your pretty, pink lips.”
Oh.
She understood what he meant now. Strangely, the notion of putting hissomething elsebetween her lips was not at all unwelcome. Indeed, she was curious. He had used his tongue upon her, and the effect had been quite wondrous.
Good heavens, what was happening to her? She had been married to this man for the mere span of a day and already, he had thoroughly corrupted her.
Her ears felt as if they had been doused in flame. “I shall endeavor to always eat alone, Mr. Winter.”
“I hope you will eat with me. Often.”
Was that an invitation?
From Dominic Winter?
“I thought you were angry with me for misleading you.” She took another bite of her dinner and barely suppressed a second moan.
“Forlyingto me, Duchess. And yes, I still am. But that does not mean a man cannot enjoy his lady wife.” He raised a brow, the blatant sensuality burning in his gaze leaving no doubt as to his meaning.
“Why did you marry me?” she could not help but to ask again. “You never did explain yourself. And before you repeat your nonsensical claim you wished to marry a duke’s daughter to compete with Deveraux Winter, be advised that I do not believe a word of it. There is another reason entirely.”
It stood to reason there was something for him to gain, but Adele could not fathom what he hoped to have. There was her dowry, yes, but if her father did not approve of their union—which she knew without a doubt he would not—she would not get a penny. There was also the matter of Dominic Winter’s wealth. A man in need of funds did not turn down an inheritance for the sake of his pride.
“I wanted to marry you because ever since you first started making trouble for me at The Devil’s Spawn, I have been able to think of little else,” he told her, his tone smooth.
So smooth she did not believe him.
“You mean to say you have been so thoroughly distracted by thoughts of me, Mr. Winter, that the only solution to your problem was forcing me into a marriage I did not want and using my brother as the leverage you required?” she repeated, allowing her disbelief to bleed through her tone.
He shrugged. “Sounds about right.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And now which one of us is the liar?”
He grinned. “I know which one of us I trust and which one of us I don’t.”
Fair enough, but two could play at that game.
“As do I. But I have never given you cause to doubt me, Mr. Winter.”
“HaveIgivenyoucause to doubt me, Duchess? Tell me how.”
They stared at each other, at a stalemate.
“You have made me marry you,” she pointed out.
“I did not hear you offer any arguments to the clergyman,” he countered.
“Because you threatened my brother.”
“I hate to be the bearer of ill tidings, Duchess, but I was never the one responsible for the beating old Sundenbury took.”
This was news to her. She sat up straighter in her seat. “One of your men, then.”
“Not my men either. Your brother has been playing too deep with the wrong East End scoundrels, love, and now they want what is owed them or his blood.”
Speaking of scoundrels.
Shock washed over her. “Do you mean to say you were not responsible for what happened to Max?”
