Page 53 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
If his body was hot just at the sight of her, seeing the reaction she had to him, and in such vivid form, was more than he could bear. His body began to warm at the thought of how she saw him, how he clearly occupied her thoughts.
She was worthy of more than he could ever offer. Soft, warm, and so… bloody innocent, for all her Scottish fire.
And Anselm?
He was too empty, too cold, too far gone for a creature as radiant as her. Yet still, the thought of another man touching her made his chest tighten with something dangerously close to rage.
The only thing he could give her was safety. He prayed that was enough.
He slammed the poker down. The sharp clang echoed through the room as a curse tore from his lips.
Striding to the bed, he dropped onto it with a heavy thud and dragged a hand over his face. He shut his eyes tight, as if sheer will alone could force sleep to take him.
Yet the image of sapphire eyes and flowing chocolate hair haunted his dreams.
Chapter Twenty
“Marion, dear,” Verity began while perching on the edge of Marion’s bed. Her eyes were bright as if she had not been up half the night making mysterious drop offs.
“I ken we are friends, but do ye knock?” Marion joked as she rubbed her eyes, surprised by the hour on her bedside clock.
“I am on a new chapter, you see,” Verity said, ignoring her protest.
“Ye just finished the last one, and already ye are startin’ up again?”
“That is how all the great authors work! But what I need… well…it is about… well, it is about the intimacy between a newly married couple.”
“I beg ye pardon, Verity. But I havenae even had tea and ye are askin’ about?—”
“Since you are now, quite officially, a newly married Duchess, I thought you might offer some… particular insights that would aid in my research. I’ve written such scenes before, but I have you now to improve on them—a person with direct experience!”
“Direct experience? Verity, what on earth are ye talkin’ about?” Marion said as the lingering heat of Anselm’s touch from just hours before crept up her neck. “Can ye wait until I have had me mornin’ tea?”
“You know what I mean!” Verity leaned in closer then and dropped her head on Marion’s pillow. “The marital bed. The passion! The… ahem,consummation.”
“Oh, bloody hell!”
“Is it truly as all-consuming as the poets describe? Does one feel a fire burning throughout their body, or is it more like a gentle warmth? Is there a particular sort of sound or sigh that accompanies it? For my heroine, you see, it needs to be utterly authentic.”
“Verity! Really! Such questions are… are highly improper and I am nae an expert,” Marion stammered as her face took on a fiery red hue. “While ye are a close friend… this is a deeply personal matter!”
She clutched her sheets to her chest and Verity pouted. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at Marion playfully.
“This is for the sake of art, Marion! Surely, a few details wouldn’t hurt. Just the general feeling of it,” she pressed while batting her eyelashes at Marion. “Is it like a gentle summer breeze, or a roaring Highland storm?”
“If ye must press… well, it is unique to each couple,” Marion managed, desperate to appease her so she could change the subject. “Both expressions have their merits… But such matters are not for polite discussion… even amongst the closest of friends!”
“I would tell you!” Verity said as she sighed dramatically. “But fine. Keep your secrets, dear sister. But do not blame me if my hero’s passionate embrace falls flat because I lack the appropriate physical details.” She stood up, already plotting. “I shall simply have to rely on my imagination. Or better yet, the highly descriptive passages in the Marquis de Sade’sJustine.”
Marion groaned feeling utterly mortified as she rose to her feet and grabbed her dressing gown.
“Ye are incorrigible, Verity! Ye must ken that.”
Thank the gods,Marion thought as the scent of hot tea and toasted bread lured her to the breakfast room one hour later than customary.
Verity was already there, buttering a scone and feverishly jotting notes in her trusty pad. Marion was still reeling from Verity’s earlier interrogation.
“I have a story to tell ye,” Marion started as she took a sip of earl grey. “It came to me in a dream, after I finally fell asleep.”
