Page 76 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
He laughed softly down at her. “Are you afraid I’ll accompany you to a ball and spend my time flirting with other ladies? I won’t, you know. I know my duty.”
“I would rather it wasn’t a duty.”
“Very well.” He leaned in and kissed her, long and deep, taking his time with her. “Then let me say this instead. There is no other lady I have any desire to dance with. And I have absolutely no desire to see my wife in the arms of another, so I suppose I shall have to dance every one with you to prevent any of your other beaus from claiming you.”
She laughed a little, but her shoulders relaxed. “I don’t have any other beaus.”
“From what I hear, half of London is jealous of me.” He said the words with some satisfaction.
There was very little that flattered his male pride as much as having claimed something that everyone else wanted.
“And no doubt there’s more than one green boy who would try to seduce you away from me.”
“Seduce me?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. It’s hardly uncommon for married ladies to find entertainment elsewhere.” He’d done his fair share of sharing married ladies’ beds over the years, though now he was finally a husband, he deeply disliked the thought. “And I will defend what’s mine.”
She looped her arms around his neck. “Well, there’s no need. I would never be interested in anyone else’s seduction.”
“Good.” As he kissed her again, he felt the slow curve of her mouth against his.
The curtains had long since been closed, and candles cast them in a soft glow. The embers of the fire still burned, pumping out a remarkable amount of heat, and he palmed her breast over her dress.
“I missed you,” he said roughly. “Did you miss me?”
In answer, she climbed off him, lay back on the sofa, and drew her skirts up around her thighs.
“Feel for yourself,” she said, her voice husky.
He trailed his fingers up her inner though until he felt the evidence of her desire, the sticky heat of it bringing his lust raging to the surface. Surely, soon enough, the intensity of this need for her would ebb, but until then, he would bathe in it.
“I hope you didn’t touch yourself while you waited for me,” he said roughly.
Her legs moved together, as though to capture his hand there. “No,” she whispered. “I wouldnae.”
“You’d better not.” Feverish now, he kneeled on the floor and opened his flies, pulling out his erection and slotting it against her entrance. He rubbed himself back and forth across her folds, coating himself in her slickness.
“The sole reason for your pleasure, wife, is me.” he told her as her eyes fluttered shut. “You. Are. Mine.”
“And ye?” she said, voice thick like honey. “Will ye save yer pleasure for me?”
“I do.” He thrust inside her, holding her hips so she’d take all of him. She gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head. “You have all of it.”
“Mm. I like the sound of that.”
“Good. There are a lot of things I want you to like.”
“More,” she gasped.
“That’s one of them.” He pulled out and pushed back inside, increasing his tempo as her head fell back and her nails dug into his arm as he held her against himself.
Yes, this was good. Exactly what he had needed after seeing Moreton and hearing him speaking about her, even if he hadn’t said anything that Adrian could directly refute.
She was his. She would continue to be his no matter what scum of the earth also walked through London.
He didn’t want to tell her about Moreton, but he did want her to feel safe and secure with him.
If she wanted to attend another ball, then by God he would make that happen, and he would hardly have to play the part of a man consumed with need for his wife when that was precisely what he was.
