Page 43 of The Duke's Impetuous Darling
"No wonder we won the war against Bonaparte," she complained, capitulating to his demands as she reached around to snatch up the paper. "Which article?"
"There," he said, pointing to the column at the top left of the page, then dipping his head to trail kisses down her throat. "Read it aloud, please."
"Oh," she breathed, quite enthralled with his attention to the hollow between her breasts. "Very well. Um. There, just there.Yesss.So..."
“Read.” He chuckled.
She pulled the paper closer. The print was small and the ink seemed faded. She checked the date. A week ago.
"This paper is old," she complained. “Why am I—?”
“Read.” He hummed as he pulled open the ribbon holding closed her morning robe and dragged down the muslin bodice of her gown.
"Why didn't you show it to me before now?" she asked as he bent to kiss the top of one breast.
"Too busy, darling." He lifted out her breast and fastened his lips around her nipple. "My priority was to keep my bride happy."
She sighed in delight and dropped the paper.
"No, no," he said, pulling away so quickly she felt the lack of him in her very blood. "Read it to me or I stop."
"Terrible man," she complained, hooked one hand around his neck and arched to give up both breasts to his ardor.
"Mmm. Hurry."
"'On Monday sen'night, as a painter was decorating the house of—'"
"Not that entry, darling. The next."
She gave him a jaundiced eye, then cleared her throat. "'Last Thursday, the Revenue Officers of Shoreham and Brighton seized upwards of seventy tubs of contraband spirits and foreign fabrics, and safely logged them in the Custom-house at Shoreham. This is more evidence seized by William Godley and William Majuit, Mariners, belonging to theHound Cutter,in the Service of the Customs in the County of Sussex. The Commissioners of His Majesty's Customs, in order to bring justice to the offenders, are hereby pleased to award the Duchess of Kingston—'" She gaped at her husband. "'The Duchess of Kingston a reward of six hundred pounds.'"
She cast about, examining the ceiling a moment, then returned to the paper. "Six hundred. That is what it says. Six. Hundred. Alastair?”
“Yes, my darling?” He stroked one breast with deft fingers as he sucked the other deeply into his hot wet mouth.
“What will we do with six hundred pounds?"
He laughed against her breast, the sound of his joy reverberating through her skin. "We decide later. Go on, my love."
"But six hundred pounds! Oh, Alastair, that would pay to build two pigsties!"
"Indeed.” He stripped her gown down to her belly and splayed his fingers over her nakedness. “Or more. Read on."
She cleared her throat, the need to read as great as the desire to have her husband possess her. Perhaps here on the table?
"'Her Grace was instrumental in identifying the smugglers known as those of Ben Hagen, aided and abetted by two men, Edward Finch, Lord Carlson and Reginald Winslow, third, Lord Hallerton, the last formerly a member of Parliament for Brighton.'"
She shot from his lap. "Oh, Alastair. What has happened to them?"
A smile curving the corner of his mouth, he devoured her nakedness with his appreciative gaze, then inhaled, shook his head and said, "Read that other newspaper."
She picked it up. "The date. It's January tenth."
"So it is."
Heart pounding, she focused on the page. "'Bow Street. The government has been induced, by recent outrages of smugglers, to make the most active exertions for the apprehension and conviction of the most daring of them. On Tuesday last, Reginald Winslow, Lord Hallerton, and Edward Finch, Lord Carlton,were brought before the judge and accused of customs violations along with their accomplice, Ben Hagen, all of Brighton, Sussex.'"
She turned to Alastair, stunned they would publish this.
