Page 58 of A Heart Disguised 1

“Truly?” I asked, my voice tinged with suspicion and a hint of hope. “You’re not going to turn me into a frog or somethingequally inconvenient? Because I must say, I don’t think I’d make a very fetching amphibian.”

He came closer, and before I could react, he gathered me into his arms, pulling me against his chest. “Truly,” he confirmed, his hand stroking my hair in what I could only assume was meant to be a comforting gesture. “We are husband and wife now, Robin. Our marriage is binding.”

“But I’m a man!” I blurted out, my face heating up like a forge in the heart of a blacksmith’s shop. “You’ve… er… touched me. Surely you’ve noticed the distinct lack of womanly attributes? Unless you thought I was hiding melons under my nightgown?”

The duke’s eyes held mine, a steadfast flame flickering within their golden depths. His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “It makes no difference to me whether you are a man or a woman, Robin. You could be a talking turnip for all I care. You, Robin Aldercrest, are my wife.”

My mind was awhirl with questions, fears, and a budding sense of hope that I dared not acknowledge. “But, Your Grace, I’m about as capable of bearing children as a stone is of dancing a jig. Surely a duke needs heirs, not a wife who’s as barren as the Aridian Desert?”

He smiled then, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that hinted at secrets as old as time itself. “Ah, but demons are full of surprises, my dear Robin. We have ways of producing children that would make your head spin faster than a drunken pixie.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Do tell, Your Grace. Don’t keep me in suspense. Do we summon a stork from the demon realm?”

The duke chuckled. “Even better. I myself was hatched from a magical egg, the product of two male parents. And one day, if you wish it, we might just find ourselves proud parents to our very own little omelet.”

My jaw dropped so fast I feared it might detach entirely. “A magical… egg?” I sputtered, my mind reeling with theimplications. Though the duke’s lieutenants had mentioned something about it during dinner a few days ago, the reality of it being possible for us was another matter entirely. “So you’re saying we could… what? Lay an egg? Hatch one? Good heavens, Your Grace, I’m not sure whether to be intrigued or terrified. Do I need to start practicing my clucking?”

The duke’s laughter filled the room, warm and rich. “In time, perhaps. But for now, let us focus on getting to know one another as husband and wife. The rest will come in due course.”

I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the concept of magical eggs and demonic procreation. Was it even possible between a demon and a human?

My voice, when I found it, was steadier than I felt. “Very well, Your Grace. I suppose we have a great deal to discuss—starting with the finer points of demonic egg-laying etiquette. Should I be concerned about developing a sudden craving for worms?”

His smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, bright and full of promise. “Fear not, my little bird,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “We have all the time in the world to explore the mysteries of our union. And I have a feeling it’s going to be a most extraordinary journey—though I can’t promise it won’t be a bit… egg-centric.”

I couldn’t help but groan at the pun, even as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips.

17

Robin

“Your Grace, if you keep cracking jokes like that, I may just scramble out of here.”

The duke’s eyes danced with mirth, and for a moment, the weight of our peculiar situation seemed to lift, buoyed by his humor. But as his gaze swept over me, the atmosphere shifted, charged with a heady intensity that left me acutely aware of my disheveled state. The wedding gown hung precariously from my shoulders, the skirt was a mess of silk and lace, and my hair… well, I imagined I looked like a wild nymph who’d been caught in a tempest.

The duke’s eyes darkened, and that look—equal parts predator and protector—made my heart race and my insides quiver with a dark longing I couldn’t quite understand. It was as if he could see straight through the gown, the lingerie, and into the very core of my being.

“Come, let’s get you out of this dress,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of my bones.

I hesitated, my eyes wide as I clutched at the fabric. A surge of panic washed over me, the prospect of standing bare before him as daunting as facing a horde of Raiders in the heat of battle.

“But why must we remove it?” I asked, my voice quivering like a leaf caught in a storm. “It’s not as if it’s on fire… is it? Surely there are parts of me best left to the imagination?”

His lips curled into a smile that was equal parts mischief and impatience. “I wish to see my wife as she truly is,” he said. “It is customary for a husband to behold his wife in her natural state on their wedding night,” he explained, as if I were somehow unaware of this age-old tradition. “There should be no secrets between us—sartorial or otherwise,” he continued, his voice lowering to a husky timbre. “And I find myself most eager to see what treasures lie beneath all this finery.”

I knew he was right, but that didn’t quell the fluttering in my stomach or the heat that crept up my neck and flooded my cheeks. With a resigned sigh, I stepped away from the bed, standing shakily as the duke began to peel away the layers of my gown. Each inch of fabric that slipped from my body seemed to increase the intimacy between us, stoking the fire that his touch ignited within me.

Once I stood there in nothing but the cursed white lingerie, I felt more naked than if I’d been entirely bare. The duke’s gaze roamed over me, from the top of my tousled hair to the tips of my trembling toes. His hands followed the path his eyes had taken, caressing my thighs, waist, and the sides of my torso, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“Have you had your fill of staring?” I asked, my voice laced with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “Or shall I pose for a portrait while we’re at it?”

The duke’s smile was slow and thoroughly wicked. “Not quite yet,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I am cherishing the sight of you, my beautiful wife. You’re a masterpiece that deserves to be savored.”

Before I could retort, he pulled me into his lap, cradling me against the firm contours of his chest. His lips claimed mine inan ardent kiss that left me breathless, the sensation of his fangs teasing my lower lip. His hands roamed freely over my body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touched.

I groaned into the kiss, my body instinctively arching into him. The duke’s lips trailed a scorching path down my throat—each kiss, lick, and nip setting my nerves alight. My hands found their way into his hair, tangling in the silken strands as I clung to him, lost in the maelstrom of sensations he was conjuring within me.

When he finally released my lips, I was panting, my heart pounding like a drumbeat in my ears. The duke’s eyes held mine, and in that moment, despite my fear and uncertainty, I found myself eager to explore the mysteries of our union—and the myriad ways in which this demon lord could make me feel alive.

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