Page 46 of Three Nights with the Beastly Duke

“Sadly, not so. Some men become so overpowered by their lust that they don’t consider what the woman is feeling. Others are too selfish to care. I am relieved to hear that it was not that way for you, though.”

Lavinia slipped a washcloth off the edge of the tub and absentmindedly began to drag it over her stomach and thighs as her mind began to churn.

“How did you learn about lovemaking? How did you know what to do?” she asked.

Behind her, Arthur’s body tensed. “That is not the most polite conversation to have,” he said at last. “Young men are taught differently, I suppose. Our…experienceis expected to begin at a younger age. It is not a practice best heard of by a lady such as yourself. Let’s talk of other things.”

Lavinia didn’t want to change the subject. If anything, his response only made her more curious. But the moment felt so peaceful. So perfect. She didn’t want to risk losing it.

“Very well then,” she relented, turning in the tub so she straddled his lap. “What would you like to talk about?”

“This evening,” Arthur replied, looking at her with a steady gaze. “Not that I am complaining, but did you defend me so? I have been a beast to you since we wed. If you agreed with them, I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Beast,” Lavinia sighed, gently tucking a lock of his dark hair behind his ear, better revealing the scar around his eye. “I have grown to despise that word.”

Her fingers traced gently over the thin white lines, and then she leaned forward, feathering kisses over the old wound.

“You are no beast,” she stated, shaking her head softly. “You are a man who has been deeply hurt.” She grazed her hand over the scar one more time, then placed her palm on his chest above his heartbeat. “Not just in your body, but your heart.”

Arthur’s eyebrow drew up suspiciously. “And how would you know such things about me?” he asked. “Most people believe that I no longer have a heart. I sometimes even question if I do.”

Lavinia thought of what Timothy had told her the day before, and then the woman Arthur had been staring at. She didn’t quite know how she knew, but in her heart of hearts, she understood immediately. The war may have scarred his body, but that woman had scarred his heart.

“I know,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “I know the way I know my heart has begun to beat for you. It is a sense of knowing that is almost like a feeling. If that makes sense.”

Arthur shook his head slowly, his eyes on hers. “I’m afraid it doesn’t,” he murmured.

“Perhaps it can only make sense when you feel it yourself,” she mused. Then, drawing up her courage, she asked, “That woman tonight. She is your ex-fiancée, isn’t she? Grace Stewart.”

Arthur’s arms tensed around her, and he looked away. “She is of no consequence anymore,” he told her, irritation lacing his voice.

“Even if she is not,” Lavinia replied, tucking her fingertips under his chin to make him look back at her, “I would still like to strike her across the face for hurting you as she did.”

Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter erupted from Arthur’s mouth, and he leaned up and wrapped his arms around her small waist. “Listen to you.” He chuckled. “You sound just as bloodthirsty as I!”

“Maybe I am,” Lavinia replied haughtily, elated to see the shift in his mood.

“Oh, my darling.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Perhaps we are perfectly matched, after all.”

Smiling, Lavinia leaned down and kissed his lips. “I tried to tell you.” She giggled.

“Will you forgive me for not believing you earlier?”

Lavinia let out a dramatic sigh as she rolled her eyes and pretended to think. “Perhaps,” she teased, a sly smile spreading across her face. “If you take me to bed again and then spend the entire night, I may find forgiveness in my heart.”

“Well then,” Arthur stated, his eyes growing dark with lust as he lifted her out of the tub. “I suppose I should get to it, then.”

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Four Weeks Later

“First I couldn’t get you to stay in the house, now I can’t get you to leave,” Marianne huffed. “What has that woman done to you?”

Arthur pulled himself from the particularly dirty thoughts he was having about his wife and looked at his mother with an amused smirk. Last night, Lavinia had worn one of her black nightgowns to bed, and he had been rather careless with it while ripping it off her. He was happy he had ordered several, but he thought perhaps he should go ahead and order a few more. He had rather enjoyed peeling the fabric off her breasts, making them bounce slightly as they were freed.

“Is there no way to make you happy anymore, Mother?” he asked. “Our business is tended to, our family is on solid ground, and your new daughter-in-law has taken to her new role as Duchess quite well. The ball we are to throw this evening will be exquisite, and you’ll be happy to know thateveryonehas accepted our invitation.”

Marianne let out ahmmphand shook her head. “So you say,” she replied. “The girl is cocky—arrogant, even.”

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