Page 21 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. Spin her into a jubilant circle like the men in Juliette’s books did to the ladies. Kiss her senseless. And then kiss her some more.
He really should be more cautious around her. If not, she just might make him believe in things he had no business believing.
“I shall show you to your room,” he told her, striding toward the manor.
She followed him, almost running to keep up with his much longer strides.
“My room?” She echoed. “Are we not to share a bedchamber?”
And the erection he had barely managed to suppress in the presence of his family and staff came back in full force.
“It is… not how it is done in London,” he explained.
Even then, it sounded painfully weak to his ears.
“Oh.”
He pretended not to hear the disappointment in her voice. Or take unreasonable delight in it.
CHAPTER 8
“You mean, I am supposed to sleep here?”
The Duke regarded her with a raised eyebrow, barely hiding his amusement. “Why? Did you think that I would squeeze you into the cupboard or exile you to the attic?”
“I do not doubt that your cupboard is larger than even Mother Superior’s room,” she replied with a wry smile.
“I do not care much for your Mother Superior, but if the clear distaste on your face is any indication, I just might enjoy throwing her into a cupboard.”
Theresa stiffened. And then burst out laughing.
“You might want to throw Sister Mary in with her, too,” she suggested mischievously. “She would have absolutely curdled your blood at the slightest opportunity.”
“Why, she might be an actual witch then.”
“Sister Mary would never countenance witchcraft…” Theresa trailed off when she saw the mischievous glint in his eyes. Basked in the radiance of his amusement at the expense of the people who tormented her.
If Sister Mary ever heard of the things they were speaking of, she would have an apoplexy where she stood. Or rained down the wrath of God upon them both.
Which is quite interesting, since Sister Edith keeps telling me that the Bible teaches us to be kind and forgiving.Slow to anger and quick to mercy.
“Well, whoever this Sister Martha character is, I am fortunate to have never made her acquaintance.” The Duke shrugged with a grimace. “Perhaps the only thing uglier than my countenance is most people’s character.”
“But you are not…”
But he had already turned his back and begun walking away from her before she could finish her sentence.
“…ugly.”
Indeed, he was easily the most devastating man she had ever laid her eyes on. Sister Edith would have admonished her for her mischief, but Margaret would have teased her for it.
And for the longest time, the two of them were the only comfort she had ever known in St. Agatha’s.
But now, she had a husband.
Who had a sister.
And a grandmother.
