Page 91 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
“I was hardly going to leave you alone,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. “Now, sleep. You have wreaked seductive havoc upon me, and I do not know what to do with myself. If you keep talking, you will find yourself astride me like you were earlier.”
Eleanor’s stomach fluttered. “Is that a promise?”
Spencer cracked an eye open, his eyebrow rising. “Do you wish it to be?”
Her only answer was to clamber over his lap, already seeking his hard desire once again.
Chapter Twenty-One
“You must be Lord Avington, the… Ah, Spencer, how did you describe the Marquess of Avington?”
Charlotte looked over at Spencer in the sunroom of Everdawn House, where he had eventually brought her.
So far, they hadn’t encountered any problems, but Eleanor hadn’t been able to relax. After all, Lord Belgrave had waited until she was alone to approach her at the ball. Lord Follet could easily be biding his time, waiting to catch them off guard.
But Charlotte was safe, and Spencer watched her carefully. Lady Montagu had also accompanied them back to London, agreeing to chaperone her niece.
Although Spencer had not yet disclosed why he was being so protective, Lady Montagu seemed to accept his precautions without argument, making Eleanor wonder why the woman was so readily prepared for anything to happen.
“Annoying,” he answered, giving Theodore a tight smile.
Theodore scoffed at that, crossing one ankle over the other as he shook his head. “If I am annoying, then I dread to think howyousound.”
“Charming?” Spencer offered. “Helpful. Protective? Heroic. Devastatingly?—”
“Arrogant,” Theodore cut in, smirking, and Spencer laughed roughly.
Eleanor found she had started to enjoy these moments. She liked seeing others bring out the sarcastic humor in her husband. She liked being on the receiving end of it on occasion, but she got to see a more vulnerable side of him too. He did not wear a mask quite as often.
She wanted to add in her own anecdote about him, how he had matched her faux title mockingly the night they met. How he had been arrogant enough to think she would know him and had not even introduced himself, leaving her floundering.
But she bit her lip, remembering their fabricated story.
She was content to simply listen.
Her eyes lingered on the sharp angle of his jaw, the way the firelight danced across his scarred skin. He could be self-conscious about it at times when he noticed attention drawn to it, but overall it was as though it was simply a part of him.
Eleanor had bit back her questions, but they rose within her again.
It had been three days since they had left Aversham, and every single day so far, she had been woken up with heat between her legs before she even fully opened her eyes.
She never once protested. She rather looked forward to it.
“Leave something out for me,”Spencer had told her the first time.“It will let me know if you want me to wake you up like that. If there is no visual hint, I will wake you up with breakfast. And if there isa visual hint, then… well, you shall simply be my breakfast.”
He had grinned at her so wickedly that she had pulled him back between her legs, feeling the pleasurable heat as his tongue slid into her folds.
“What do you think, Eleanor?” Theodore asked her, pulling her out of her thoughts.
Spencer looked across the short distance between their armchairs, his expression amused, his fist propped beneath his jaw. “Yes, my dear wife. Whatdoyou think?”
“Of what?” She feigned innocence.
“The best way to describe Spencer,” Charlotte said. “And perhaps Lord Avington, too.”
“Is it a competition?” Theodore asked, glancing at her with a frown.
“No,” she answered, giggling. “Although it could be.”
