Page 48 of One Wicked Secret
Elsa left before tears welled but lingered on the landing, wondering which of the five doors was her bedchamber.
It didn’t take long to find the right room. The familiar scent of her husband’s cologne acted as a silent invitation. Her heart fluttered like a bird mid-flight when she saw him standing shirtless at the washstand.
He plunged his hands into the porcelain bowl, scoopingwater and rinsing soap off his face. Rivulets ran down his muscular forearms. Her gaze followed the droplets as they slid down the taut, bronze skin of his bicep.
Merciful Lord!
She stood hypnotised. A quiet yearning stirred inside her.
Had she whimpered? She wasn’t sure.
Daniel saw her and straightened, grabbing a towel to dry his face. “How’s Clara?” he said, unaware his wife was on fire and struggling to form a coherent word.
“F-fine.”
“Just fine?”
He dragged the towel down his throat and across his broad shoulders, each movement holding her entranced. She should focus on his sensible question, but her thoughts were tangled, consumed by the need to feel his skin beneath her lips.
“I find Signora Conti’s directness refreshing. Clara will, too, in time.” He tossed the towel over the back of the chair and padded slowly towards her. “Passion and honesty are admirable qualities. Wouldn’t you agree?”
For heaven’s sake, stay where you are!
“Most admirable.”
She wasn’t sure where to look. At those hard brown nipples that were small and perfectly symmetrical? At the dusting of dark chest hair clinging to the curve of his pectoral muscles? Or that deliciously wicked mouth?
“Elsa, what’s wrong?” The flick of his tongue over his bottom lip played havoc with her insides.
“Nothing.”
He stopped a mere foot away, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Nothing? What happened to the woman who stormed into the ballroom and offered achallenge? The fearless woman who rode my stallion like she was leading a heathen army?”
“It’s easy to be courageous when one is ignorant.” This whole business had left her floundering. “I’m not sure who I am anymore.”
She wasn’t his wife or his lover. She had no idea how she ended up in a dead man’s bed. What if she made love to her husband, only to find out he was not her first?
“Then let me help you remember.” Daniel reached behind her, closing the bedchamber door, though he kept his hand braced on the panel. “You’re the woman willing to sacrifice her happiness to pay her father’s debts. You’d die to save those you love.”
“I’ve always placed other people’s happiness before my own.” Wasn’t that a woman’s role in society, unless she was a heroine in a Gothic novel?
“Now you don’t have to.” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered in a low, husky tone, “You’re free to say what’s on your mind. Free to do as you please.”
She didn’t want to be free.
She wanted him to possess her in every erotic way.
She wanted him to admit he would have stormed the church, punched Lord Denby and whisked her away because loving her was all that mattered.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If you married me to save me, why didn’t you offer when you learned about my father’s contract with Lord Denby?”
He sighed. “Because Magnus told me it’s what you wanted. I didn’t know about the contract then. I presumedyou sought security and a title. After Clara’s accident, I had other priorities.”
“How could you think I wanted Lord Denby?” Did he not recall those moments when their breath mated in the air between them? Stolen moments when it was just the two of them alone in the dark?
