Page 113 of Ironvine

Aunt Vivian laughed. “A great many prefer a more stable existence, Charles. Perhaps you’ve never met those ladies, hmm?”

He had no witty reply. He was only transfixed on his wife’s molten gaze in the quivering shadows of the torchlight. He knew that Georgina was a woman who wanted a savage and hungry lover for herself as well as stability. Could marriage be that?

A jolt shot through his insides, and he shifted his weight. He wanted to be the one to give that to her. He wanted to experience that with her.

Aunt Vivian’s clear voice rang out, “Alice, dear, what do you think of the sculpture?”

Alice remained spellbound by Apollo’s hand gripping Daphne’s bare hip, holding her in possession, claiming her for himself as she attempted to twist away from the bewitched god. Her attention slid to the god’s bare muscular thighs.

Georgina’s lips curved into a slight smile, a delicious knowing smile that melted into a softer one, as she moved alongside Alice. “I must say, the movement the artist has created here from stone is sublime. Do you not think so, Alice?’

“Yes, it is remarkable indeed.”

“Such a rush of movement fuelled by opposing forces: her fear and his great desire. I can feel it. Can you?”

“Yes, I can,” whispered Alice.

Charles’s breath deepened, a growl rising in his lungs. He could smell Georgina from here as if he were Apollo himself and she his Daphne. But Georgina did not run away from him. Her body thrilled to his in the shadows of their bedchamber. She’d taken his hand, chose him, became his mate. That growl in his chest became a strange, deep ache spiralling from the very centre of him.

Footsteps and chatter broke the thick spell between them. In the next aisle, wandering in between portrait busts of previous Dukes and Duchesses of Oakley, two couples who Aunt Vivian knew greeted them. They all exchanged pleasantries, and the couples strolled away.

Charles touched his Aunt’s arm. “Aunt, I believe one of the sculptures you wanted to see is just over there.” He pointed. “His Grace mentioned over dinner that he’d recently acquired The Three Graces.”

“Wonderful.”

Charles led them to the section of the gallery which the Duke had mentioned to him earlier, and they found the small marble trio of bare goddesses dancing together. “They are lovely.”

“Yes they are,” murmured Aunt Vivian.

Alice cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Apollo once more, and Charles and Georgina shared a grin.

Low voices and heavy footsteps grew louder and louder. The Duke and three of his friends all headed for the Three Graces.

“Ah, Oakley, a remarkable piece,” said one gentleman.

“Indeed. Good for you for plucking it and bringing it home,” said another.

“There’s so much to be had there, most of it lying about,” said the Duke. “The Ottomans don’t really care if there’s money to be had for it…”

“If you don’t take it, I imagine it’ll only rot,” said one.

“Quite right,” remarked another.

His Grace turned toward them. “Ryvves. You found it.”

Charles bowed his head. “I did, Your Grace.”

The Duke’s gaze honed in on Georgina. “Countess.” His voice had gone velvety smooth. Charles took in a tight breath as his wife bowed to the Duke, and the Duke’s chin lifted, lips curving. Satisfaction. “You are enjoying my recent acquisition?”

“It is a beautiful piece.”

He held her gaze. “Once I find something I like, it must be mine.”

“Certainly, this is a once-in-a-lifetime find.”

His eyes narrowed over her. “I very much agree.”

“Did Your Grace travel to Greece to find it?” asked Aunt Vivian.

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