When he phrased it thus, she well understood his stance. And yet, it was all so horrific. So unlike the world into which she had been born. Still, for all that she was the daughter of a duke, the house in which they stood could have belonged to any lord.
She frowned at him, studying this handsome, perplexing enigma she had wed. “This is truly your home, then? I thought you meant for us to live above your gaming hell.”
“I own this home and its contents.” He finished the last button on his shirt and paused. “I do not like it. Never intended to live here. But today with Sutton, and you carrying our babe… Suffice it to say I’ll suffer four walls befitting a nib to keep you safe.”
He had revealed a mouthwatering expanse of his chest by sliding those buttons from their moorings. But still, not enough. She wanted to see him without his shirt from the front. In the light of day, with no shadows cloaking his body from her avid gaze.
How had she managed to get so distracted?
“Your shirtsleeve is stained as well,” she told him softly. “You really ought to remove it for laundering.”
In truth, she just wanted to see him, but she did not want to be so bold.
He grasped the tails of his shirt in both hands. “You are certain, Adele? My scars…”
“Take it off.”
He inclined his head. “As my lady wishes.”
In a fluid motion, he hauled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor, where it landed in a whisper of sound, atop his other discarded garments. Her mouth went dry. His scars were on vivid display, different from the lines on his back. These were jagged and far less precise, rained over his torso as if a vengeful god had placed them there. Beneath the signs of his life in the ruthless underworld of East London, his muscles were on stark display. His chest was broad, shaded with a fine smattering of masculine hair. On his biceps, he possessed another marking, this one a rose. On his chest, five letters were inked on his flesh in small, neat print.DDBGG. It took her but a moment to realize the letters must stand for the names of each of his siblings.
“Shocked, Duchess?”
His grim query cut through her rapt inspection of his naked upper body. “Pleased, Dom. Intrigued, as well. May I?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Aye.”
She traced her fingers over the inking on his muscled arm first, tracing the flower. “How have you come to have these?”
“Also the work of Genevieve.” He swallowed again, holding himself unnaturally still, his body tensed beneath her trailing fingertips. “She is skilled with needles. Nor does she swoon at the sight of blood as some of our brothers do.”
“She draws this with ink and a needle?” Adele asked, fascinated. “Does it stay forever?”
“Forever, yes.” His hand closed over hers. “It is a mark of honor.”
“You love your siblings.” It was a statement, not a question, for she could see how much he cared. She loved her sisters and brother fiercely as well, and she would do anything for them. His devotion to his family—or at least, the siblings he considered his true family—pleased her.
“They are my family.”
Beneath her fingers, his heart beat a steady thump. How vital he was, the heat and strength of him seeping into her. The shock and fear that had assailed her earlier at his gaming hell returned.
“If something had happened to you today…” She trailed off, unable to complete her sentence. Though they had been wed for mere days and he had only been a part of her life for a handful of months, he had quickly become…essential.
There was no other way to describe him, no more suiting word.
“If something happens to me, you will be looked after, Adele,” he said, plucking her hand from his chest and lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “My family is yours now. You are one of us, and I will fight like hell to make certain my enemies cannot hurt me, you, or any one of us. I do not want you to fear. That is why I brought you here, to a place I have scarcely spent any time, to a house I never expected to occupy. I want you safe, and I want to be here for you and our babe. I had no father and my mother was…scarcely better than my absent sire. I will not allow our child to suffer the same. Do you believe me?”
His sudden question took her aback, for she felt as if there remained so much she did not understand. So much she needed to learn and know. About her husband, his world, the dangers swirling around him.
But for now, she would answer him. “I believe you, Dom.”
“And do you trust me?”
She did not hesitate. “Yes. I do.”
As she said the words, she recognized the veracity of them. Dominic Winter may be a criminal, but there was good in his heart. He was a man who cared, a man who felt strongly.
“Good.” He dropped a kiss upon her lips, hasty and quick. Far too quickly for her liking. “I am going to teach you how to wield a blade and shoot a pistol.”
