Page 101 of The Duke's Daring Bride

Worth the pain? Olivia shook her head, distracted from their conversation by his member, which had begun to harden against her thighs once more. “I’m not worth pain, Alistair.”

“Aye,” he croaked, before pulling her lips to his again.

They explored one another, using their tongues and fingers and skin. He caught her happy sighs with his mouth, and returned them when she proved to be as eager a student as him.

This time, he took her on her back, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and made enough noise for both of them.

Afterward, she drowsed, curled in the circle of his arms.

But the rumbling of her stomach roused her, and she felt his chuckle on the back of her neck as his hand cupped her breast.

Curious, she squirmed around so she could see him. “You can laugh,” she accused.

He appeared too sated to rise to her bait, and merely grinned lazily.

She had so many questions, about his life and his experiences, but she didn’t want to cause him pain…

Biting her lip, she glanced at her bedside table. Hadn’t she tossed one of her notebooks there the other day, after returning from the print office?

Rolling to the side of the bed, she groped about, pleased they hadn’t had a chance to lower the lanterns, and crowed with triumph when she found a notebook and pencil. When she presented it to him with a flourish, he raised a brow.

That’s when she flushed with shame. “You’re likely too tired to answer my questions, aren’t you? You’ve been traveling—”

Scowling, he snatched it from her hand and pushed himself up onto the pillows. “What…wife?”

Wife.

He called her—called her—wife.

Her grin was likely blinding.

“I want to know all about your accident, and the aftermath, and how you healed, and why you don’t speak!”

He hesitated, then—sprawled naked in bed beside her—scribbled, “I do not speak because”

And his pencil halted.

“Because?” she prompted gently.

His gaze rose to hers, and he swallowed. Without looking at the notebook, he wrote, “I sound like a frog.”

She burst into chuckles.

“No, you do not! Granted, your voice is strange—”

I croak.

“You whisper,” she corrected, pressing a kiss on his temple as she snuggled up beside him so she could read over his shoulder. “And yes, fine, you do sound quite different from everyone else.”

I have had enough of not being like everyone else.

And just like that, she understood.

Alistair was embarrassed.

She knew now the reason he didn’t go into Society, and refused to allow anyone to meet him directly, was because he was protecting himself from humiliation; she’d learned that much in the short time they’d been married.

But had he ceased using his voice all these years because he didn’t want to give anyone—not even his family—reason to mock him further?

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