Page 71 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

“Why so impatient, wife?”

“I need you,” she said, cupping him through his breeches.

He gasped, his member twitching in her hand. He felt so hot and hard yet smooth, and her tongue itched to taste him as he tasted her.

“Can I taste you?”

His member twitched again in her hand, and he groaned, pulling away from her.

“You are certainly full of surprises, but no. Not today,” he answered, kissing her. “Today, I just wantyou.”

“You have me.”

He smiled as he lined himself with her entrance, sliding in one thrust that stole her breath. He groaned, using his hands to hold her hips in place as he moved in and out of her in quick, deep thrusts that made her moan loudly.

It was too much, yet she knew it was what her body had craved. Her husband was not a gentle lover, but she didn’t mind the way his fingers dug into her flesh. Even if he left bruises, she would smile when she saw them, for they would be a reminder of what they had done.

He pulled out suddenly, flipping her over and bending her over the desk. She turned to look back at him, wondering at the change.

“You are much too beautiful, Louisa,” he whispered, sliding into her slowly and giving her time to adjust to the feeling of fullness in this new position. “So tight and so damn perfect.”

She whimpered as he pounded into her, the edge of the desk digging into her thighs, but she didn’t stop him. Pleasure ripped her in two, and she screamed in ecstasy as his thrusts became erratic. He wasn’t far behind her, crying out his release, and she gasped as she nearly fell when he pulled out of her.

“I don’t think I can walk,” she complained.

He laughed, and she swatted his arm.

Eventually, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the couch. He lay down beside her and grabbed the thick blanket draped over the back of the couch, covering them both with it.

“I would have been disappointed if you could.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Percival did not do well with blackmail, and the missive he found on his desk when he returned from his morning ride definitely looked like blackmail.

In his years in the army, he had learned that assignations following blackmail were the easiest way to make oneself an easy target while leaving one’s back vulnerable to a knife or a dagger.

If the letter was about any other matter, he would have tossed it on the pile on his desk that would be used to feed the fire later. He would not have considered taking the risk. But the letter, hastily written in a barely legible masculine hand, told him to meet its author in some backwater alley in the slums of London. Alone. If he wished to learn what might have caused his brother’s sudden death.

Percival looked up in the direction of the room where the elderly colonel slept. Weston had taken him under his wing as a new recruit, protected him, and trained him. He had taught himeverything he knew, and it was thanks to his training and his innate survival skills that he was able to survive the war.

He would bet a pretty penny that his former superior would never advise nor allow him to venture out by himself if he was under his command—at least not without a companion.

Weston would at least advise him to allow a guard to accompany him to protect his back while he focused on retrieving the information he sought.

Percival was aware that whatever information the writer of the letter seemed to possess would in no way bring his larger-than-life brother back to life, but it might help lay to rest some of the demons that haunted his sleeping and waking hours.

At the very least, he might bring his brother’s killer to justice, and in that way heal the part of his heart that had boiled with rage in the past few months.

He was ready to exact revenge on the criminal who had taken his brother’s life, forcing him into a role that he still felt ill-prepared for.

Granted, the sequence of events that had led him to become the Duke of Colborne had also led him to Louisa, who was fast becoming as essential to him as life itself.

Apart from her, he could not think of any other benefits that becoming a duke had granted him. He needed to make sure thatjustice was served to at least put to rest the guilt he felt for taking his brother’s place—for taking over the manor that was supposed to be his while stepping into shoes that were not his, to begin with.

Besides, whoever had killed his brother had ill intentions towards him as well. The fact that the bounder had gone to such lengths to spread rumours of his supposed death showed that someone wanted the Dukes of Colborne extinct. But for the life of him, he could not figure out why.

That was why he had to find answers to the questions churning in his head, or else they would drive him insane very soon.

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