Page 26 of His Duchess' Mischief

She was staring at his lips now, begging him to plunge his tongue into her mouth, taste the sweetness he had sampled for the first time that morning.

He leaned in, desire racing down his back like a hot flame, his hard length jutting outward, brushing against her nightgown.

Will she let me have her now? I have never wanted anyone more.

“Lady Collingworth was very put out at dinner,” she said suddenly.

Seth paused, an inch from her mouth, so close he could feel her breath fanning his lips.

“She remarked on Lady Pearson’s gown, which was very much like her own. Copied stitch for stitch, or so she told me. Quite scandalous for a wedding breakfast, when the modiste had been preparing them for many weeks.”

Seth stared at her, dumbfounded by the inane chatter.

Have I married a simpleton?

Despite the hardness in his breeches and the desire that still pulsed through his veins, her words gave him pause.

Immediately, he pulled away, tugging at his waistcoat, reminding himself what this marriage was—what it could never be.

He was ashamed to admit that desire had overshadowed his reason. Only ten minutes earlier, he had been thinking of the benefits of leaving her alone, and yet here he was, seconds away from taking her against the wall.

Alicia seemed just as surprised by her words as he felt, the color high in her cheeks, her wide eyes blinking at him in surprise.

Her eyes skittered over his chest, settling on the bulge in his breeches, and her cheeks turnedscarlet.

“Goodnight, Duchess,” he said stiffly, fighting the gnawing need to touch her again.

Take her, push her against the bed, and have her, now!

“G-Goodnight,” she said faintly.

Seth turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, furious with himself for what he had almost allowed to happen.

CHAPTER 9

Where am I?

Alicia came to wakefulness in seconds, sitting bolt upright in bed and staring around her in confusion.

This was not her bedroom. The sounds and smells of the house were all wrong, and the tall silver birch trees outside her window were foreign.

Slowly, her thoughts settled, reminding her that this was her new home. But the abrupt change was not something she had been prepared for.

It could not have been long after dawn, the sun on the horizon hazy and sending bright pink streaks across the sky.

The drapes at her window obscured the clouds that had gathered, but they were white and fluffy, and they did not suggest upcoming rain.

Pushing the covers off her, she padded across the cold floorboards to the window and looked down at the grounds.

Despite it being her second day at the manor, it all looked beautiful. The grounds stretched beneath her window like a tapestry, waiting for her to explore it.

There was the glimmer of water in the distance and the twitter of birds in the branches. She watched a blackbird flutter by, a crow answering its call with a screech of its own.

Before she had gone to bed the night before, she had found a book on birds in the library. Unable to sleep, she had researched several species that were common in English gardens, determined to put her plan into action the very next day and bore her husband with endless speeches about them.

She had learned many things that she had not known before, and she was proud that she could tell the difference between a starling and a sparrow now.

Shivering in the cold room, she approached the fire, holding her hands out to the dying embers from the night before. As she stood there, her eyes drifted to the chair behind her, and she suddenly felt very warm.

---