Page 123 of The Duke's Daring Bride

God help him, it was.

But love?

This isnae a surprise, ye dobber. Ye’ve been falling for her daring perfection for ages.

Nay.

Nay, a wife was just…part of the dukedom. Just a part of his life, his obligations. He supported his mother, his sisters…and a wife.

He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her.

Wasn’t supposed to allow her to undermine his control.

Wasn’t supposed to allow her to interrupt his careful existence.

Olivia dragged ye to dinner with yer family. She has ye visiting her printing offices. She’s so tempting ye nae longer sleep in yer own bed.

Aye, having a wife had changed him.

Perhaps it was best for both of them that the carriage slowed to a stop and Alistair dragged himself out of the haze of desire she’d thrown him in. They were here. They were home.

Clambering out and tossing the cabbie double the fare, he reached in and hauled Olivia out. Best to keep things simple. He tossed her over his shoulder once more and stalked toward the house.

They entered through the back, which was his preference on nights—Knights!—like this. Olivia hadn’t struggled when he’d lifted her, but he could feel her heavy breathing.

And squirming against his shoulder.

Was she as aroused as he was?

And what was he going to do about it, with his anger and fear and desire chasing each other in his chest, warring for dominance?

He rounded the corner and nearly bowled over his mother.

Fooooooook.

She gasped, but Rocky—standing at her side—steadied her. When Mother stepped backwards, then took another step to tilt her head to face Alistair, the footman gave an abbreviated bow and hurried toward the kitchens, his gait awkward.

Mother, meanwhile, had recovered from her surprise. “Alistair! What are you doing?” She lowered her voice. “Oh dear, have you been out again? And who have you—oh, hello, dear.”

Olivia had hoisted herself upright by planting an elbow in his back with enough force to make him wince, and was now waggling her fingers at Mother in a sort of awkward wave.

And Mother’s expression slowly cleared. “Oh, I see…” She cleared her throat, then patted at her hair. “Well, I suppose I understand. I was young once, and in love.”

Eyes narrowing, Alistair realized her hair was unkempt, and the neckline of her gown was askew. He shot a glance at the doorway through which Rocky had scurried, his mind shying away from a truly horrifying hypothesis.

Mother? Rocky?

“It’s not like that,” Olivia was trying to explain. “I was just out—”

He swatted at her backside to shut her up. Mother didn’t need to hear anything about tonight.

But to his surprise, his mother’s blush turned to a little smirk. “Yes, well, I see now. Your father had similar appetites, God rest him. Sometimes a bit of playfulness or pretend…”

And then she winked.

His mother winked.

At him.

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