Page 91 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

“Oh, indeed. So, I’ll ask you again, my dear. Can I come in?”

Thalia closed her eyes tight. She ought to tell him that she was tired, and he would doubtless accept that with grace and slip away.

“Very well,” she heard herself say. “You can come in. Just for a moment, though.”

The door inched open, revealing Christian in all of his delightfully disheveled wedding finery. He leaned against the doorframe, his cravat askew, and he lifted an eyebrow when their eyes met.

“You are meant to be enjoying your wedding day, my dear.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I was?” she countered.

He chuckled. “I daresay I would. Well, do you mind if I step inside?”

“Be my guest.”

He stepped inside, gaze flicking critically over the interior.

“I instructed Hooves to have this room prepared,” he admitted. “It’s been empty for a while. Well, not empty, but unused. Rooms begin to smell musty if they’re left unused for too long.”

“Well, he’s done a fine job. It’s remarkably comfortable here.”

Christian gave a small smile and pushed the door shut behind him. He prowled around the room, inspecting this and that, almost as if looking for flaws. Thalia sank down onto a low stool by the fire and watched him.

He moved with the grace of a predator, of some large, sinuous animal, like a lion or a tiger. She watched him, her breath catching in her throat, and found that she could not look away. The fire in the hearth, dancing higher and higher, seemed to fill the air with an intense, prickling heat.

Something is going to happen.

Christian paused to readjust a fold of the heavy velvet curtains and turned to face her.

“The truth is, I came to see if you were all right, Your Grace,” he said, a faint smile creeping onto his face. “Duchess.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “I don’t believe I’ll ever get used to being called that.”

“You do get accustomed to it, and sooner than you think. Just like you’ll get accustomed to married life.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I don’t particularly enjoy being married to someone who swears he does not wish to touch me.”

He went very still. “And that’s what you think?”

She lifted her chin. “That’s what I know. You made that very clear.”

He prowled towards her, coming to a stop only a pace away.

“Oh, dear,” he breathed, crouching down in front of her. “I can see that we’ve had a huge misunderstanding here. I shall have to remedy that at once.”

She drew in a sharp breath, but before she could say a word or move or do anything, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was hot and intense, his tongue caressing the tip of hers, a gentle press of teeth against her lower lip. Heat flared in her gut, a powerful rush of feeling that made her limbs tingle.

His arm slid around her waist, anchoring her, and his free hand cupped the nape of her neck. When he pulled back, their lips parting just enough to let them both drag in a lungful of air, he chuckled low.

“This is not the conservatory,” he purred. “You can be as loud as you like.”

To highlight his point, his fingers inched down the curve of her breasts, caressing her through the material. More heat flooded through her, tendrils of pleasure curling along with it. She felt, rather than heard, Christian’s name rolling off her tongue. It made her shiver.

It’s my wedding night, she thought, heart pounding in her ears, pleasure trickling through her and intensifying. Why shouldn’t we?

The world spun around her as he swept her up and into his arms. He carried her easily across the room and dropped her onto the mattress. It knocked the breath from her, and for a moment, she stared up at him, the world spinning around her.