Page 49 of Denying the Duke (Lords and Ladies in Love 3)

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This was the night.

Alex had felt Patience weakening since the night before last when he’d left her room in such an aroused state. As he had paced in his room, he’d heard her tossing and turning in her bed. She had been as frustrated as him. Several times he’d placed his hand on the door latch between the rooms to attempt another go-round, but, like a muddleheaded fool, had decided to drink himself into a coma instead.

It had taken a few coins slipped into the innkeeper’s palm when they arrived earlier to have him announce there was only one room available for them. He’d made sure Patience had enough wine at dinner to relax her, but not too much. He’d arranged with the innkeeper’s daughters to turn down the bed and place flowers and candles around the room. Whether she knew it or not, this was to be Patience’s wedding night, and he wanted it special.

Patience turned to him as they entered the room. “What is this?”

“Nothing special.” Liar. “I guess this inn does this for guests.”

She tilted her head and looked at him. “Indeed?”

He raised her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, grinning against her soft skin when she closed her eyes and shivered. “I will send Polly up to help you change.”

He barreled down the stairs in search of Polly. Bloody hell, if this didn’t work he would likely end up a cripple. After sending the maid upstairs with instructions to not put any night rail on his wife with more than three buttons, he left her to join the men drinking in the common room. Probably not what a duke was supposed to do, but hell, he didn’t feel like a duke. He still felt like a soldier in His Majesty’s service.

After Alex checked his timepiece for the fifth time, Polly finally appeared in the common room to tell him Patience was ready. He thanked her and wished her good night. He stood outside the door for a moment taking deep breaths to compose himself.

Propped up on pillows, Patience sat on the bed in a low-cut nightgown of soft muslin, which outlined the perfection of her breasts, the dark circles of her nipples visible through the material. Her hair had been brushed to a shine and cascaded down her back in a riot of blond curls.

He made a note to give Polly a raise tomorrow.

Her green eyes watched him warily, and he knew in that moment, despite all the preparations, he had to go very slowly or his skittish wife would probably bound from the bed and race downstairs to sleep with her maid.

Adopting a casual attitude, he removed his jacket and cravat, all the time pretending nonchalance, even though he watched her like an animal seeking its prey. He pulled off his boots and stockings, and climbed onto the bed in his shirt and breeches.

“Is that how you sleep?” She waved in his direction, her voice high and shaky.

“No, sweetheart, I generally sleep sans clothing, but I thought—”

She sucked in air. “Yes, thank you for that.” She inched away from him as he moved closer until he realized if she moved once more she would likely fall off the bed.

“Come here.”

Clutching the cover to her chest, she shook her head.

“Patience. You will fall off the bed if you move even one more inch.” He reached for her arm and tugged her next to him. He was encouraged when she didn’t resist. “I don’t want you to be nervous because we’re sharing a bed.”

She lifted her chin. “I am not nervous, Your Grace.”

“Oh no?” He grinned at her vexed expression.

If he didn’t calm her down, and fast, his plans would blow away like a windstorm in the desert. He put his arm around her shoulders and eased her down so they were both lying in the bed. “See. Nothing to be nervous about.”

She turned to him. “I told you I am not ner—”

His lips covered hers as he cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. He turned her head to take the kiss deeper, nudging at her lips until they opened on a sigh. He swept in, and held in a groan at the sweet taste of tea, honey, and Patience.

She broke the kiss and giggled. “Your mustache tickles.”

He rubbed his upper lip back and forth over her mouth and then kissed her again, her body softening as he continued his assault. Almost of its own mind, his

hand slid down her jaw and collarbone to rest on her plump breast.

When there was no objection, he massaged, caressed, and flicked his thumb over the turgid nipple. She slid her hands up his arms to encircle his neck. Encouraged by her movement, his lips traveled to her jaw, then the soft skin under her neck, to settle on the nipple visible through her gown and begging for his mouth.

Her breath was ragged and her breasts heaved with each lave he gave her nipple. The nightgown he’d so admired had now become a hindrance. Hoping she was ready to remove the garment, he whispered in her ear. “You will be much more comfortable without this.” Before she could protest, or more likely process what he’d said, he reached down, clasped the hem of the gown, and began to slide it up her legs. “Sit up, sweetheart.”