Page 15 of Til Death Duke Us Part
“Your wedding ring, dear. Don’t you remember?” Hefting his valise in one arm, he kissed her temple and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “We were married just this morning.”
“What are you doing?” she hissed, her eyes shooting daggers.
He leaned low and whispered in her ear, “Ensuring you’re always within my sight. You’re my key, Sephy, and I’m not going to let you get away.”
“I ha?—”
“Hate me. Yes, I know. Ah, innkeeper!” He raised an arm and snapped his fingers. “My wife and I need a place to rest our heads tonight. We’re on the way to Manchester to visit with her family.”
“My name is Mr. Trembly. I’m the owner of this establishment. And we have plenty of room. Plenty of room.” The innkeeper, a bald man with a voluminous mustache inspected them from top to bottom. “What kind of room are you looking for?”
“Private, innkeeper,” Victor barked. “I do not like to share my wife with anyone.”
The man’s lips thinned, and he barely hid his annoyance when he said, “Understandable. Right this way.”
“You could be nice to Mr. Trembly,” his pretend wife hissed.
“Why?”
She sighed. “Take note: I tried to poke you in the direction of generally decent human behavior.”
He did not laugh. But he wanted to.
Ten minutes later, they were locked into a small room that overlooked the coaching yard, and Victor’s hand was burning. He might be allergic to whatever metal composed the ring he’d pilfered last night. But other things were burning, too. His heart had become a drum in his chest, and his veins were pumping all available blood south. His body appeared to be working up the most magnificent and insistent cockstand he’d ever managed.
And every time he looked at his traveling companion… it got worse.
He shrugged out of his greatcoat as she shrugged out of her threadbare mantle. She shook her hand. Her cheeks were red as apples. She peeked at him with shy little glances.
Fuck.
He wanted to drive into her hard and fast.
He found the washbasin and splashed water on his face, though it did nothing to cool him off. He dropped the glamour hiding his identity as he stood, flicking away droplets of water from his fingertips.
“What is your name?” he asked.
She blinked. “You don’t know my name? Oh… yes, of course you don’t know. I never told you.” Her gaze settled on his lips. She licked her own lips. Then she pushed him out of the way to splash her face with water. She shook droplets everywhere then paced across the room to stand as far from him as possible. “Persephone Graves.”
“Persephone Graves?” Sephy. “That can’t be your name. You’re bamming me.”
“I’m not!”
“Graves is a bit too on the nose, isn’t it?”
“You’re not the first to notice, and you will not be the last. It’s very unoriginal of you.”
“Is it also unoriginal of me to say I want to strip you bare and lap your nipples into my mouth.”
“What?” she squeaked.
“I’ve thought of nothing else since we entered this cursed room. It must be cursed. Why else do I want to drag my teeth along the skin of your belly until I get to your sweet cunny, where I’ll begin to use my tongue instead and?—”
“Can you afford this room?” She barked the question, so loud and clear their neighbors likely heard.
“I’ve some emergency funds tucked away. And I’m not entirely without means. If we need funds, I’ll perform some glamour work for someone in town, earn a coin or two.”
She took two hesitant steps toward him. “Glamour work?”
