Page 24 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

“When I showed you how to waltz,” he purred seductively, “moved you, guided you, urged you, you liked it. You would not have if I had merely told you.”

“I was… too shocked to protest,” she breathed.

He smiled. “And instead of asking me to leave, that night in the library, what did you say?”

Lydia swallowed thickly. “I… do not remember.”

He draped her hand over his shoulder and teased his fingertips along the bridge of her arm, caressing up the side of her neck. He held her chin lightly, smiling as he murmured, “You asked me what I was planning to do in there.”

“Yes, and you stole my first?—”

He did it again, his mouth catching hers so swiftly that she had no time to draw breath. A soft, searing kiss that would have made her forget her own name, much less that she was supposed to be annoying this man so much that he annulled the marriage. But he did not stop as she had made him do the last time, his lips moving against hers, guiding her in what to do.

With every ebb and flow of his mouth, his hand gripped and relaxed on her thigh, teasing out sparks of excitement that crackled all the way to her stomach. There, butterflies fluttered, and her nerves made somersaults.

Tentatively, she kissed him back, following his lead. Like the waltz, she picked it up quickly, allowing herself to be lost in the rhythm that he was setting. A slow, sensual caress of lips one moment, a crushing press of urgency the next, keeping her on her toes.

Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him closer despite herself. And he came willingly, urging his mighty, muscular weight against her, pushing her down onto her back. The coverlets were still between them, his body at an angle. But he soon reached for the edge of the bedlinens, tugging them down, the side of his hand brushing all the way from her bosom to her stomach as he did so.

The bubble burst.

What am I doing?

Lydia broke the kiss and slammed her palms into Will’s chest. “You are wrong about me,” she gasped, her head spinning. “If you can have rules, so can I.”

He pushed himself up on his strong arms, still too close. “I am listening.” His tongue rolled across his lower lip. “I am distracted, but I am listening.”

“One, you and I will not share a bed, nor… um… be man and wife in said bed unlessyoustay out of other ladies’ beds for at least… a month,” she replied, making it up as she went along. Anything to buy herself the time she needed to no longer be his wife.

Amusement danced in his wolfish eyes. “Aftertonight, you mean?”

He dipped his head to kiss her again, and her hand shot out to cover his mouth.

“No, from this moment on,” she rasped. “Let us see howhonorableyou really are.”

He pulled back, and sat on his haunches, staring at her with the sort of fascination one reserved for oddities and curios. “Do not forget, it is our wedding night.”

“I know,” she replied, grabbing the book she had left on the side table and lifting it as she had done in the library. “And I am kicking you out. If you do not obey the rules, there will be consequences.”

A dark smile played on that sensual mouth, and he got up off the bed, walking to the adjoining door. He opened it wide, and with laughter in his voice, he replied, “Very well. Let us see who breaks yoursolitaryrule first.” He paused to look at her. “I guarantee, it will be you.”

CHAPTER 10

Breakfast proved to be an awkward experience. The guests who had stayed at the manor had chosen to take their breakfasts in their chambers, as if they had orchestrated it as a group. That left William at one end of the table and Lydia at the other, with Anthony between them.

“How is the marmalade?” William asked, smiling as he sipped his cup of weak coffee.

Lydia refused to meet his gaze. “Sweeter than I am used to.”

“Careful you do not accidentally swallow any of the toast,” he said.

Her cheeks flamed immediately, and she set the toast down as if she had lost her appetite.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Anthony interjected, raising an eyebrow. “How can she eat toast and marmaladewithout eating the toast? Unless, Your Grace, you do not like the toast?”

Lydia took her napkin and fanned herself with it. “I like toast very much. I believe your brother is attempting to make a joke. Truthfully, I do not understand it either. He is not so gifted at humor, is he?”

“Alas, where he received height and handsome looks, I received the talent for humor,” Anthony replied, chuckling to himself.

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